Выбрать главу

“What do I do with this?” Charlotte asks, standing like a statue and still holding the bag with the poo-covered clothes and nappy in it.

“Rubbish bin.”

“Mum won’t be happy if you throw his clothes away.”

“Don’t be silly. We can’t keep those, they are covered in shit.”

“Don’t swear.”

“Where has this ‘don’t swear’ shit come from?”

“Don’t swear. And Nanny told me to say it. She said you and Mummy swear a lot.”

I chuckle to myself. Bloody, Maryann.

Nate hands me the clean clothing and another wipe even though I don’t need one. “She’s right, Mum won’t be happy if she finds out you threw away Brayden’s clothes.”

“Thanks, Mate. But I don’t need any more wipes.”

“Yes, you do. You have poo on your head and arm.”

Looking at my arm and now becoming acutely aware of a smear on my head, I shudder and wipe both spots. “Thanks. Okay, baby boy, let’s get you dressed.”

I place a clean nappy under his bottom and go to secure it.

“You need to put some of that white cream on his bottom,” Charli reminds me.

“Yes, yes I do.”

Thankful for my little helpers, I take the nappy rash cream Charlotte is holding out for me and wipe a bit on Brayden’s bum. Now happily content that I have covered all bases where this nappy change debacle is concerned, I reclothe Brayden and pick him up, holding him in the air just like Simba in the Lion King.

He smiles at me.

Hold the fuck on...he just smiled at me.

“He’s smiling,” Nate says with a laugh while pointing to his baby brother.

 Leaning in closer for a better look, I smile back. “He is, isn’t he?”

Despite the past hour and the nightmare he was the cause of, his smile fills my heart with happiness—he is my pride and joy.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Do it again,” I probe, pulling ridiculous faces at Brayden. “Come on, smile for Daddy.”

“It was just wind, Bryce,” Alexis deadpans from the sofa.

Lying on my side on the floor next to Brayden, I desperately try to get him to smile like he had before. “No, it wasn’t, he smiled. Nate, tell your Mum he smiled.”

“Yeah, Mum, he did. Right after he did the biggest poo in history. It was disgusting.”

Alexis laughs and looks at me sympathetically. Her hair is now shorter; much shorter, sitting just lower than her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute in a sexy way.

“He will only be four weeks old tomorrow. I think it’s too early for him to smile,” she says with empathy while flipping the page of her magazine.

“He smiled,” I reaffirm, not having it any other way.

Alexis puts down her magazine and looks toward the kids. “So what’s for dinner, ratbags?”

“McDonalds,” they both chant.

Shit! I hate McDonalds.

I look up at Alexis and shoot her a you’ll-pay-for-this look. She innocently bites her bottom lip and smiles. There’s no way I can fight that smile and she knows it, it’s her ultimate weapon. That, and the one between her legs.

Compassionately patting me on the thigh like I’m some elderly frail man, she offers me an out. “It’s okay, I’ll go get it.”

God! I’m pathetic. “No. I’ll get it,” I say, shaking my head and rolling my eyes at her as if to say that I’m quite capable of going to the horrid place and that it doesn’t faze me in the slightest. When truth be told, it does; it fucking fazes me immensely. I hate with a vengeance having to go anywhere near Ronald McFucking Donald with his bright red scary hair, yellow fucktard suit, pasty white powdery skin, and obscenely high eyebrows. How the hell he doesn’t bother every person on this planet mystifies me.

“Charli-Bear,” Alexis says, clasping Charlotte’s hand in hers while making it extremely obvious that she is trying to keep a straight face. “I think you should go with Bryce,” she suggests while raising an eyebrow at Charlotte, hinting I need someone to hold my hand.

I know what she’s doing and she thinks she is funny. She also thinks she is going to get away with, but she’s not. No. Way. In. Hell.

Charlotte looks over at me and nods her head as though I’m her knew found charity case. My balls basically evaporate.

“Come on then, Charlotte,” I say as I get up off the ground.

Charli walks over to the door and waits while Alexis swaps places with me. As Alexis bends down on her knees, I lean in to kiss her neck and gently whisper in her ear. “I like your hair. I like it so much that I’m going to grab a fist full of it tonight while I fuck you into the next century.”

I walk toward the door and briefly look back, finding Alexis still on her hands and knees, watching me with hungry eyes and a salacious grin. Her arse is perfectly poised in the air, and if it weren’t for the three children in the room, I wouldn’t hesitate in yanking down her jeans, ripping her underwear to shreds, and planting my cock so fucking deep inside her pussy, I’d me more than balls deep.

Lingering probably just a little too long on her rear-end, I click my neck to the side and clench my fist, taking a second to get my shit back together before focussing on my trip to McFucking Hell.

* * *

“Why are you scared of clowns?” Charlotte asks as we walk through the Entertainment Precinct.

 “Mr. Clark,” one of my security team acknowledges as we pass by.

I nod back at him then answer Charli. “Because they are weird looking.”

“Are you scared of ET?”

“No. Why?” I ask, a little perplexed by her randomness.

“Because he’s weird looking, too.”

Huh, she has a point.

“Are you scared of sloths?”

I have to think for a second about what a sloth actually looks like. “No, I don’t think so.”

“They are REALLY weird looking.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Charli.”

We turn the corner, and once again I’m greeted with the evil statue, sitting on the park bench styled seat like he owns the fucking joint. Newsflash McFuckhead, I own it.

I purposely keep my distance as I approach the counter. Charli, however, decides to take a seat next to him.

It makes me cringe with disgust.

“Bryce, come sit with me,” she proposes, smiling sweetly at me.

“Nope, I’m good. What do you want, Charlotte? A Happy Meal?” I ask, wanting to get this McShit ordered so I can get the McHell out of here.

All of a sudden Charlotte bursts into pretend tears. And I mean really bursts into pretend tears, howling loudly like she is auditioning for the cowardly lion in The Wizard of Oz.

I look around slightly dumbfounded, noticing others looking her way as well.

“Charlotte, what are you doing?” I whisper under my breath.

Her howl gains a few decibels.

Feeling uncomfortable as it is—by having to be here in the first place—I am now in the equivalent to hell, taking in bystanders giving me dirty looks. I realise it’s because I’m just standing here while an innocent little girl is crying.

Bloody Hell!

“Charlotte, come here. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“No,” she faux sobs while peeking through her finger covered face. “You come here.”

You cheeky little shit! You are just like you mother. I’m both furious and impressed with her efforts to get me closer to the statue of Satan.

An elderly lady touches me on the arm. “Is she alright?”