A Bundle of Mannies

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “I think we have time for both.” He tore the blanket off and jumped out of bed. “I’ll turn on the water.”

  He was right. We had time for both.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lincoln

  I got off shift that night at seven and made my way home after a quick stop for coffee at my favorite place. I hadn’t heard from Adam all day, and it was bugging me more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t that alpha, the one who needed to know where my mate was at all times or checked his Snapchat map.

  Still, I worried he was working too hard.

  I came in to a house filled with the cries of Penny—it had been so long since I’d entered our once house of chaos I knew something had to be wrong for her to go off the rails again.

  “Penny?” I asked as I rounded the corner into the kitchen where a red-faced Penny sat on Pace’s lap while he held her close and stroked her hair. I’d learned in his short time with us he was very good at comforting.

  Pace looked up at me and then back down to Penny. “Did you want to talk to Daddy Linc about what you’re feeling, darling?”

  “I miss my Papa Adam!” she shrieked, making me cringe.

  “Come here, Penny.” I bent low and held my arms out for her. She wiped her tears with no grace whatsoever and came into my embrace then wiped her nose on my scrubs shirt. She mumbled something incoherent before yawning. I cocked my head and spoke to Pace, “I’m going to give her a bath and read her a story.”

  He nodded and went back to his dinner, which had probably gone cold. After getting her pj’s from the dresser, I looked back to tell Penny to get into the bath but she was passed out cold on her bed, legs hanging off, slobber already marring her unicorn pillow.

  “Well, that explains the meltdown.”

  I changed her into her pajamas while she slept and tucked her in before going downstairs. I took a long sip of coffee the cardboard cup had failed to keep warm for me. “Yuck.”

  “I think today is a little my fault. I didn’t realize she was anxious about going back to school. She threw a fit when she saw the displays at the market today. Then she refused to take a nap, and after that, it was all an avalanche of nothing being right. I tried to act excited about school.”

  Shit. That was my fault, or our fault as her parents. Penny had thrown up on the first day of kindergarten, and we’d hoped it was a one-time thing instead of a pattern. When back to school was mentioned, our usually upbeat and confident daughter became a mess.

  Thing was, she got it from me.

  I was the kid who got nervous in early June, thinking about going back in September. Vomiting was also my nervous tick. When the midhusband entered the room to tell us it was time for Adam to start pushing Penny out, I excused myself to puke. I puked eight times before I could proceed with our wedding ceremony.

  Three times the morning of my graduation from medical school.

  “It’s not your fault at all, Pace. She gets nervous. Maybe you have some suggestions to help?”

  He looked at me like I’d sprouted a third arm. “I feel like I failed her today—that’s for sure. We have to find a way to make her less nervous. She has many more first days in the future.”

  We shared a laugh. I would give anything for my little girl not to go through a life of puking at any sign of anxiety. Especially about school. School should be enjoyable—at least until high school.

  “Sit,” Pace said. “Let me heat you up some dinner. You look tired.”

  I chuckled but did as he said. “You mean I look like…poop.”

  Pace’s face turned a shade of white I didn’t realize a person could turn. “No, that’s not what I… It’s simply the dark circles under your… I mean, you are quite dashing…no. I’m going to shut up now and get your dinner.”

  I racked my brain for my limited knowledge of British words.

  Dashing—British for handsome, right?

  Wait. Pace thought I was handsome? Suddenly, my throat got tight and a few beads of sweat broke out along my hairline.

  I swallowed as I processed the information, listening to Pace behind me in the kitchen. The sound of the microwave popped my thought bubble. “I can get it.”

  “Nope. Sit down.”

  I did as he asked and watched him gently place a plate of roast, lots of vegetables and gravy, along with a mound of steaming rice in front of me.

  Do not look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch. Do. Not. Look.

  I looked then felt like I’d cheated on Adam. I also looked at Pace’s ass as he bent to get Beau from his high chair, saying sweet things to him all the time.

  “Shall we watch a movie after putting Beau down?” he suggested. “I got one at the store from the vending machine.”

  “Sounds good.”

  As he passed, Beau on his hip, his hand brushed my arm.

  Gods I was in such trouble.

  In lust with the fucking manny.

  Just as I’d scooped up my first bite, my fork piled with meat and veggies, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Hello, my love,” I answered and shoved the bite into my mouth.

  “Hey,” he said, and I heard a sound like turning on a shower, that little squeak most hotel faucets had.

  “Just getting in?” I asked, worried about his tone. Even with one word, I could tell he was off.

  “Yeah. It was a killer. I haven’t even eaten.”

  My plate of food now made me guilty. My mate hadn’t eaten, and here I was drooling over the manny and sitting in front of an abundance of food. The alpha inside me did not approve.

  “You need to eat, Adam.”

  “I will—after a long, hot shower. I’ll call you before I go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” I answered. “I love you.”

  “And I you.”

  I hung up the phone and rushed to get my laptop. I ordered my mate his favorite Chinese dishes from a place close to the hotel and paid a good bit extra for them to rush the order. By the time Adam got out of the shower, he would have a hot meal waiting. It was the least I could do when he was so far away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pace

  Tension was rising in my employers’ household. Even the kids could feel it. Sure, Penny was edgy about the upcoming first day of school, but I thought we’d eased her stress by playing school with her as the teacher and Beau and I as the students. She’d risen to the occasion, instructing us in our alphabet, numbers one to ten, and the proper etiquette when making a “mean kid” share the only red crayon on the table. After the “mean kid” showed up in our schoolroom on several occasions, in reference at least, I made the decision to discuss this with her dads.

  If there was a classroom bully, and if the child was in her class again or she might encounter them on the playground, Lincoln and Adam needed to address the issue with the teacher. It would have helped if Penny was willing to share the name of the child, but so far, she was holding firm on not doing so.

  But I also thought some of the general crankiness in the kids was in response to the low-voiced conversations and worried expressions on their dads’ faces. When Adam was home, which wasn’t very often, he tried to make up to the whole family for his absence. And when he wasn’t, Lincoln was trying to make up for Adam’s absence, too. So, too many treats that led to a few upset tummies and restless nights. A shopping trip where Penny got shoes that cost the earth. She’d outgrow them in a few months, making it an impractical expenditure. Also, her new princess bed.

  My job was not to interfere between parents and their children, but when their interactions began to cause problems with my routine and the health of the little ones, my instructors were very clear that scheduling a meeting to discuss the issues as soon as possible was called for.

  When I learned Adam was due back for a full weekend, I approached Lincoln on Friday afternoon, while the children were napping. He was relaxing on the back patio for once, reading one of the thrillers he liked, enjoying a rare afternoon off after several days wit
h long shifts. A breeze ruffled the leaves on the oak tree that shaded the pair of chaise lounges where the two men rarely had the opportunity to sit together. They loved one another, anyone could see it, but the current situation was doing no one in the family any good.

  I understood they only hired me because their careers were so encompassing, but they were not the type of men who were happy spending minimal time together. Especially when one of them was not happy in that job. I didn’t try to eavesdrop, but I did live there and had overheard bits and pieces of conversation.

  However, their jobs and how they chose to do them were not my concern. Mine was only to let them know about how the children were feeling. And behaving. What they did with the information was entirely up to them.

  I stepped outside and waited for him to notice me, reluctant to interrupt a peaceful interlude. But I’d only been there for a moment when he reached for his iced tea, noticed me, and gave me a warm smile. “Pace. The kids asleep?”

  “They are. Tired out from the park. They sure love the splash pad.” I fished in my pocket and pulled out my phone. “Want to see?”

  “I’d love to.” He waved toward the other chair. “Sit down. Want some tea?” A second glass waited next to the pitcher on the tray beside him. Adam was due home shortly, and he was ready.

  “I don’t want to use Adam’s glass.”

  He looked up from my phone, where I’d brought up some short videos of the morning at the park. “I’m sure we can get another one. He won’t get here for at least an hour, anyway. And he prefers iced coffee…”

  “We should make him some, then.” Abandoning my plan, I took a step toward the house, but his deep chuckle stopped me.

  “Sit down, Pace. We’ll make it in a few. Take a load off and tell me what you wanted to talk about.”

  I perched on the edge of the chaise, but when he arched a brow, I scooted back and lifted my legs onto the cushion, accepting the frosty glass he offered me. “I…I wanted to request a meeting with you both,” I told him.

  “Oh?” He set his book down, open on his chest. “Sounds serious. Can’t you talk to me? Is something wrong?”

  I took a quick gulp of my drink, letting the icy beverage moisten my dry throat. I’d spoken with parents many times about their children. Why was this so awkward? “Well, usually, it’s better to talk to both parents. If possible.”

  “Okay, now I’m alarmed.” He sat up straight, putting his feet on the ground on the side of the chaise facing me. His book slid to the chair and landed half open. He didn’t fix the bent pages. “Whatever you need to discuss, let’s do it now. Adam is going to be tired when he gets here, and probably cranky. If we can resolve your concerns before then, we should sure try.”

  “I—”

  “Talk!” he barked in a tone I’d never heard before but one that held nothing but alpha. My cheeks heated, cock hardened, and it was all I could do not to throw myself at his feet. But fucking the bosses wasn’t what I was here to do.

  Wasn’t what I was ever going to do.

  “All right. If you insist.”

  “I do.” And he did.

  “It’s a couple of things.” I proceeded to explain to him about the meany kid, and we agreed he and Adam would reach out to the kindergarten teacher and try to learn more. Luckily, they had an email contact that meant they didn’t have to wait until school started.

  “And the second thing?” he asked.

  This was much harder. It required tact, and one never knew how someone would take what they might regard as criticism. So, after another sip of tea, I told him about how the general tone of the house was affecting the children. He looked so stricken, I wanted to take it all back, but how would that help resolve anything? Manny as family counselor. It happened more than I liked to admit.

  “I had no idea.”

  At the voice from behind me, I dropped my glass, and it shattered all over the patio.

  “Adam.” Lincoln stared past me. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough.” He moved to sit next to his partner, giving him a quick kiss hello before facing me. He wore a button-down shirt and a striped tie, slacks wrinkled from travel, and had bags under his eyes. Even his color was bad. The damn job was going to kill him. And now I’d made it worse. “Please, continue.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adam

  “I should quit.” It was the only solution I could think of after the truth bombs went flying and the tears started pouring. Pace had been so kind about the horrible father I’d become. His empathy over my needs had me almost wanting him brought into this part of the conversation, the part we took to our bedroom.

  He couldn’t be here. We were making a decision that could impact his livelihood, and asking someone to sit in the meeting to decide their fate sucked monkey balls.

  I should know. I’d been attending them for weeks on end, and not once did they get even a speck easier. No. Politely excusing ourselves had been the better option.

  Then why does it feel so wrong?

  “Throwing out the baby with the bathwater is a shitastic idea. Especially when your emotions are so raw.” Linc sat beside me on the bed, and, instead of just wrapping his arm around my side the way he often did when I was upset, he pulled me onto his lap and I snuggled in deep. “And it wasn’t just you. You heard Pace. My erratic schedule isn’t helping.”

  He kissed the top of my head softly, and, for the first time that night, it sank into me. This wasn’t about my actions, it was about our family and how we wanted to function. It was about being the best fathers we could be, and we’d been failing. Miserably.

  “But what are the options? You can’t leave the hospital. They need you, and even if they didn’t, your contract has a non-compete clause that would mean uprooting everyone and moving if you did decide to go work for a private practice.” It was the reason we almost didn’t buy our house when he first began to work here. We always knew I wanted to not stay home forever, and owning a home could severely limit my options depending on how the housing market was at the time.

  “I could leave the hospital. I get offered opportunities quite often.” What? How did I not know that? “I wasn’t hiding them from you, love. No need to tense up so. I just never take them seriously. And even so, there’s the pesky non-compete clause.”

  “Like my dad used to say, you can always get a job when you have a job.” I tried my best to have my voice sound light and failed miserably. If he hadn’t known I’d been sobbing, he’d probably have given me a check-up and not the fun kind when I pretend to be his nurse.

  “Something like that.” He ran his hand up and down my arm lightly, soothing me with each stroke. “You do hate your job.”

  “I really do.”

  “But? I hear a but in there.” Because he knew me oh so well.

  “But people’s job depend on me. Their kids depend on me.” It was a burden that grew heavier and heavier with each passing day.

  “They are not your concern. Your say really doesn’t matter in the long run. Sure you can sway things but the brass is gonna do what the brass is gonna do.” I could hear his father coming out of his mouth. Weren’t we the pair?

  “You’re right. All those jobs.” And I was both a pawn and powerless, at least in any real capacity.

  “Take those jobs out of it. What do you want to do?” That was like saying take my arm out of it; how does my finger feel? Separating the two felt impossible, and yet I tried, running through scenario after scenario as he held me and patiently waited.

  “I want a job where I can be home for the kids and still work,” I finally confessed almost too low for even myself to hear. “As selfish as it is, I still want to work.”

  “Not selfish.” He brought his hand to my cheek, cupping it with care. “You know what you need, and if you are going to be the father you want to be, your needs must be met, too. Giving up everything for your kids is not the role modeling people on social media seem to think it is.”
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br />   “So, where does that leave us? Penny is heartbroken, and Beau is no better, just without the words to express it. This needs a more immediate fix than keeping my eyes open for a new job.”

  “How much vacation time do you have?” He said that as if I ever used any. I’d always meant to, but things came up, and they needed me. I’d given up more than my share of vacation days in the time I’d been there and hadn’t use more than the allotted sixty days for having Beau. Damn my suckitude started long before the new job.

  “I still have two weeks use-or-lose and six weeks banked.” And wished I had none because that would be indicative of me not having been so horrible. “I’m not sure they will let me take a huge chunk.” I knew they wouldn’t. Nothing in the staff manuals stated as much, but since they thwarted attempt to take full weeks, I gathered longer would face similar fates.

  “You know what?” I sat up fully at his firm tone. “Screw it. Quit your job. It’s not even making you happy, which was why you went back to work in the first place.” He wasn’t wrong.

  “But what about Pace?” And this was why we hadn’t invited him into the conversation. We could be walking out of this bedroom with bad news for him—for all of us. Weird thing was, I had a feeling if we fired him so we could fix what was broken in our family, he’d be happy. “How will we pay him while I look for a new job?”

  “I make enough.” He did well, but not that well. Not without some extreme sacrificing, like no anything but necessities and, even then, I wasn’t completely sure we’d manage. “We just need to be careful, and you are going to get a job so fast. You are the ideal employee.”

  “Which is why I suck as a dad.”

  “You don’t suck.” He tilted my chin up with his forefinger. “You saw a problem, and instead of saying, ‘The kids will adjust,’ or something equally harsh, you said, ‘Let’s fix this.’” I cringed because, in the past, we had said, “They’ll adjust,” just like the daycare people told us, just like our co-workers told us—just like society told us. And they had adjusted to me working just fine. But this wasn’t working. I was practically owned by my bosses, and that meant I jumped when they told me to even if it meant tears at home. True, the tears at home had been something I didn’t know about, but the result was the same.