Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(59)

"You are that good," she croons and then turns back toward me. "You can wait in here while I give him a bath, if you want." She looks nervous and I know it took a lot for her to tell me that. "I mean…unless you have to go. That's okay too."

"I have nowhere else I'd rather be," I reply, ruffling Max's thick hair as I walk by. She smiles and tells me to make myself at home. I pick up the photo album we left sitting on the floor and start thumbing through it, laughing to myself about how excited Max was to show me each and every picture.

I learned one very important thing about Max tonight—he loves to talk. The kid does not stop talking. I don't even have to say a word, he just talks for me. But it's awesome. He is awesome. I'm not sure if it's normal to instantly connect with a kid that isn’t even yours like that, but it felt…normal. It felt right.

After a few minutes, Max emerges from the bathroom in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas, which I didn’t even know were still around. Growing up, they were one of my favorites. His wet hair is parted and combed perfectly to the side. It definitely looks like a woman fixed it.

“Come here, Max." I pat the seat next to me on the couch and he jumps up and looks at me. “Have you ever heard of a faux hawk?" I ask.

His cute little nose crinkles in confusion and he cocks his head to the side, as if actually trying to remember if he’s ever heard of it. “I know what a hawk is!" he answers proudly, his eyes widening with excitement.

I laugh at his innocence and pull him to stand in front of me. Running my hands through his hair, I start pushing it around and styling it. When I’m done, his hair is pulled together in the center and he has a full-on mohawk going from his forehead to the back of his neck. Christ, this kid has a ton of hair, almost like—

“Wow. Cool,” he says, gently running his hand along the top of his spikey hair.

“It won’t stay. It’ll fall when it dries, but next time I’ll bring some gel and we’ll style it for real. Now go have a look at it in the mirror.”

“Alright! Mom, look!” he yells, running out of the living room. They round the corner at the same time and Max plows right into Harley. He scowls at her and reaches up to make sure his hair is still intact. “Careful, Mom!” he scolds. “Don’t mess up my hawk!”

“Oh gosh, I would never want to mess up your very manly mohawk,” she says, squatting down to his level, just as he barrels past her to find a mirror. Harley shakes her head and laughs, walking toward the couch. She sits down on the opposite end, and I want nothing more than to pull her down here by me.

She’s watching me, her face expressionless. Is this that look they say that mothers give? I keep watching her and she keeps watching me. Yup, this must be that look.

“You gave my son a mohawk." Her face is stone cold, but as I watch her for a few moments, I can see her fighting a grin that is pulling at the side of her mouth.

“Hell yes, I did! Did you see his hair?” I ask, leaning back against the couch and pointing down the hall at Max. “He looked like a choir boy.”

She throws her head back and laughs, exposing the length of her neck. Fuck me, everything about her is perfect. All I can think about right now is what I wouldn’t give to feel that silky skin against my lips.

“There is nothing wrong with a choir boy,” she gasps, trying to stop from laughing. Her eyes smile at me and it’s an incredible feeling. I don’t ever want to go back to the place we were two nights ago.

“No, there isn’t. But your son has an amazing personality and he needs an amazing hair style to go with it!”

“Okay. Okay. He can keep the mohawk,” she says as Max comes barreling back into the room. Holy crap, does that kid ever slow down? He’s go, go, go all the time.

“I love it! Did you see my hair, mom?” he asks, and she nods. “Do you like it? It’s so cool. Andy is going to be so mad that he doesn’t have a hawk! Tyson said he was going to bring gel over next time and do it for real. Can I read you a book before I go to bed?" he asks, looking directly at me. I love how he so easily goes from talking about hair to asking to read a book in the same breath.

I point a finger at myself in question and he nods. “Do you mean, can I read you a book before bed?"

“No,” Max replies, staring at me like I’m crazy. Both he and Harley are watching me, and I swear my whole body warms under their gazes. I’ve had such a great time tonight; I really don’t want it to end. “I’m going to read you a book. How about Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site?" Max whips around on his heel and takes off for his room, obviously expecting me to follow behind.

“Really?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in question. “He can read already?" Is that normal?

“No." She laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve read him that book so many times that he has the words memorized. He knows exactly which words are on which pages and it looks like he’s reading.”

“Your kid is too smart for his own good,” I say, pointing a finger at her. “He’s going to give you a run for your money. You know that, right?"

“I know,” she says dramatically, tossing her head back on the couch as I make my way back to Max’s room—which is totally awesome, by the way.