Right now, she’s clutching Glyn by the shoulder as they stare at a chaotic black-and-red painting on the wall.
I say chaotic because I’m artistically illiterate, as Astrid and our sons like to tell me. It’s only Glyn who says, “It’s okay, Dad, you don’t have to understand art to feel it.”
Because she’s special, my little Glyndon. Compassionate to a fault, too. Like her mother.
Only she’s not little anymore and she’s bringing a headstrong boyfriend home that I get irritated about whenever he comes to mind.
“Why didn’t you show me this before?” Astrid asks her, a soft frown etched between her brows.
Glyndon slides her palm down her shorts. When they’re standing side by side, they look so similar and yet so different. They’re the same height, have the same eyes, but everything else sets them apart.
My wife has mature beauty, the type that’s honed by years of being a badass businesswoman, artist, wife, and most importantly, mother.
I would’ve never been able to be a good father if she wasn’t the mother of my children. She understands the difference between the three of them and does her best not to squash it.
She never dressed Landon and Brandon in the same clothes. Not even once.
And when people told her they’d look cute in similar clothes, she said that she wasn’t ready to sacrifice their sense of identity just so everyone would think they were cute.
“I guess I didn’t think it was good enough,” Glyn says. “Bran wasn’t supposed to show you this.”
“He didn’t. I actually snuck into your art studio. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have, but you haven’t shown me anything for almost a year.” She tightens her fingers on our daughter’s shoulder. “And this isn’t only good enough, it’s an emotive masterpiece. The first time I saw it, I had tears in my eyes from the flow of emotions.”
“R-really?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Thanks.” Her voice shakes. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Not everyone is going to like what you put out and that’s okay, Glyn. Just tune out other people’s opinions and only focus on your art. That’s if you still want to continue down this path.”
“Of course, I do.”
“You always expressed yourself the best with a brush in hand and a wicked grin on your lips.”
Glyn chuckles, then hugs her mother. “Thanks, Mum, really. For everything.”
Astrid pats her back with a loving expression on her face. “Does that mean you’ll show me your creations from now on?”
“I will.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you were thinking about when you did this one?”
Glyn smiles sheepishly. “A beautiful nightmare.”
“I like that.”
“Me, too.”
“Also, I spoke to Professor Skies since Landon told me he’s giving you a hard time.”
“Lan did?”
“Yeah,” Astrid says slowly. “But the weird thing is, Professor Skies said he already got a visit from some masked man who threatened him that if he continues to bother you, he better start counting his days. Be honest with me. Do you think that was Lan?”
Glyn releases a breath and shakes her head. “And here I was wondering why he suddenly changed his attitude toward me. He even praised my painting in front of the whole class, which is something he’s never done before. Now I know it’s all because of the threat, and no, Mum, I don’t think it was Lan.”
“Oh, okay. If your oldest brother causes any trouble, you’ll let me know, right?”
“No, Mum, I’m sorry, but I won’t. And neither will Bran, actually. Lan is a big boy. He can handle himself without you monitoring him.”
“Glyndon! Where did you learn the habit of talking back?”
“I just…feel better when I say everything out loud instead of burying it inside.”
My wife smiles. “Well, it’s about time. I’m proud of you, baby. And I’m so happy you found someone who understands and loves you the way you are.”
A faint blush covers her cheeks. “You think Killian loves me?”
“Loves you? No, it’s more than that. He looks like he’s ready to wreak havoc for you, and believe me when I say that type of love is rare to find.”
“You think?”
“I’m sure.”
“That would be one of us.” I choose this moment to stroll inside and then wrap a hand around my wife’s waist.
She fits perfectly in my arms. This woman was made for me and I refuse to think otherwise.
“Dad.” Glyn sulks. “Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s a little psycho, that’s why. Imagine what he’ll become when he grows up.”
“Aiden?” Astrid asks with a mischievous smile. “You still love him.”
“Tolerate him, not love him, princess.”
“Oh, please. You’ve been overprotective of Aiden since you were kids. Either way, Aiden is the type of man who puts his family above the world, so don’t be judgmental.”
“Yeah, Dad, don’t be judgmental.”
“We’re playing two on one now, are we?”
“Well, you put yourself in this position,” Astrid tells me, shamelessly taking our daughter’s side.
“Still love you, Dad.” Glyn pecks my cheek, then grins. “I’ll get going before you start kissing.”
Her laugh echoes in the air as she leaves the studio.
My wife slides her hand up my ribs and to my chest, a glimmering light shining in her eyes. “Are we going to start kissing, my king?”
It only takes a few strokes from her to transform me into a raging volcano. “Not sure. You just took that fucker Killian’s side over mine.”
“Because you’re being unreasonable and you know it. He brought our daughter back from the edge and that alone makes me forever thankful.” Her hand travels to my cheek, her voice softening when she says, “Are you really not going to kiss me?”
“I’d never say no to you, princess.” I’d lose to her over and over if I have to.
My fingers lift her chin and my mouth meets hers. I kiss her with gratefulness, love, and the absolute need to have her in my life.
She is my life.
My wife.
The mother of my children.
Mine.
Levi: I just lost my daughter.
Xander: Please tell me that’s figurative and Glyn is actually okay?
Levi: If by okay, you mean breathing, then sure, she’s okay. But she brought home a boy and said the dreaded words of “I love him.”
Aiden: Surely you knew she’d do this eventually? She’s fucking nineteen, Lev, not nine.
Levi: Says the one who only has sons. You don’t understand, so how about you kindly fuck off?
Aiden: What’s so wrong with having sons? Don’t be jealous.
Ronan: Agreed. Sons are the shit. Also, I’m on pins and needles for when Remi will introduce his special someone to us.
Cole: From what I gather, there will be special someones. I wonder where he got that womanizing tendency from.
Ronan: Fuck you, Nash. My son is living his life as a healthy uni student and I won’t allow anyone to shame him.