busy schedules, we don’t get to see them nearly as much as we’d like. Matt is always running around with the fire department in town and has a busy dating life of his own that his mother doesn’t always approve of. Ames is in college, and we’re lucky if we get a phone call once a month.
I never thought I’d be the family man out of our bunch, but my life has been full of sports practices, high school dances, graduations, and trying to put three kids through college. I’ve loved every single minute of it, and now that there is a new baby, it’s brought out a whole new side of me.
See, I never got to raise babies. I love the boys like they’re my own, but they were already little men when I came into the picture. Spending time with Miles, watching him learn new things each and every week, not to mention day, is fascinating. Plus, Penelope loves to tease me about finally changing diapers.
I’m still working with coding and computers like I always have. It’s my passion, and I likely won’t give it up until they put me in the ground.
Penelope, however, is nearing the end of her teaching career, though. She’s close to fifty, and while she loves the kids, she’s tired of coming home sick most weeks from their colds and dealing with parents who don’t seem to take their children’s health seriously. She’s been a full-time working mom for a long time. And a single mom for a lot of those years. I told her about five years ago that she should quit, relax. I make more than enough money to support the both of us. I think she’s finally, just now, coming around to that idea.
“It’s beautiful here.” She sighs, nuzzling back into me.
“You’re beautiful,” I counter, peeking between her cleavage because I can’t help it.
“Mr. Nash, what a charmer you are,” she teases.
“I can be romantic.” Sometimes.
“You’re thinking about my boobs right now, aren’t you?” P chuckles.
“I’m neither confirming nor denying that.” My smirk is devilish.
She lets out a soft hoot of a laugh. “I love you, Forrest.”
“And I love you, my sweet P.” I press a kiss to her temple.
The next ten minutes sees the rest of the Nash clan padding down the stairs, hair askew, grabbing coffee, and settling in for the present extravaganza. The youngest kids are first, opening their presents in a fury, while the rest of us sit back and just smile at their enthusiasm.
“What is wrong with you?” Penelope asks her youngest son, who looks half-dead on the couch.
“Too many beers last.” Ames rubs his head.
“Or it could have been that you drank them in the hot tub, idiot. You really have that just-legal hangover glow about you.” Travis Jr. claps loudly in his brother’s ear, inciting Ames to try and put him in a headlock.
“At least I can handle my alcohol. Remember the time I came to visit you in the city and you puked tequila all over Rittenhouse Square Park?” Ames fires back.
Fletcher sidles up next to me, looking on as my kids try to pummel each other. “God, those were the days. Remember when we used to fight like morons?”
I nod fondly. “They really were. Were we that cocky?”
“Probably cockier.” My twin shrugs. “Lord knows, I puked up enough tequila to last a lifetime.”
My brother has been sober for just about two decades and has turned his life around from the addiction he just mentioned. There were times I never thought I’d drag him out of the darkness, but I’m sure as hell glad we made it to this moment.
“I think we have the scars to prove the most epic of our fights. There is still numbness in my pinky where you broke it over me smashing your skateboard when we were ten.” I give him a pointed look.
Fletch rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t get me back for it. I have seven stitches in my head from when you pushed me off a moving dirt bike.”
“I missed you, brother.” I grin.
We don’t see each other as much as I see the rest of my family. Fletcher and his brood are always on the go, flying from country to country. When they do make it to town, that strange twin connection seems to set in, and it’s oddly comforting.
“Hey, stop setting a bad example for the kids. You’re adults now.” I whistle for my stepsons to stop horsing around.
“Technically, I’m