Take it.” Kenn looked furious now, not to mention utterly knackered. “I will lose both my jobs if I miss a day that week.”
Two jobs. His fucking creative artist was working two jobs. It wasn’t like he wasn’t helping with the kids, because he was. His money had to stretch to two households now, though, and all their extracurriculars. Plus he needed to keep feeding the university fund.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll juggle some stuff and take them the week before Christmas. I’ll bring them home Christmas Day at noon.” That seemed fair to him.
Kenn’s face fell, and he saw those amazing eyes shimmer, then Kenn shook his head. “I want them Christmas morning. That’s special to me.”
“You think it isn’t special to me?”
Did Kenn really think he didn’t give a shit for the kids? For Kenn himself? This separation was not his idea. Shit, he’d been calling Kenn’s bluff when he’d said, “Then leave.” He’d never for a moment thought Kenn actually would.
“You mean if someone doesn’t call you in to work?” Kenn shot back at him.
“That was an emergency.” If the company had lost that overseas contract, he’d have been out of a job. Then where would they have been?
“There’s always an emergency. There’s always a trip or a phone call, or anything or anyone that will keep you from having to deal with us.”
“Or keep me from losing my fucking job. Did that ever occur to you? That if I hadn’t left that night to deal with the shit hitting the fan, I would have been in the unemployment line?”
Jesus, they didn’t even live together anymore and it was the same fucking argument.
“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. It’s tough to be that important to someone, for everyone to need you.” Kenn didn’t sound like he was being sarcastic at all.
Chris just stared for a moment, then looked at his watch. He downed his coffee. “I have to get moving. I’ll take them on Friday night, keep them for the week, and bring them back Christmas Day at eleven.” Look at him, giving in by an hour.
“Christmas Eve at ten p.m.”
He shook his head. No way. “Christmas Day, ten a.m.” The kids were going to be up at the crack of dawn anyway.
“Bring them in the car late, then. Midnight.”
“That’s not fair to them. Nine a.m., but that’s my final offer—I’m giving up Christmas breakfast with them for that.” That was one of their traditions. Stockings at the end of their beds, Santa’s gifts when Daddy and Da were up, then breakfast before they unwrapped the rest of the gifts. That’s how they’d done it every year since they’d adopted the kids—Micah just three, his baby sister newly born.
Kenn’s shoulders dropped, his face falling. “I hate this.”
“And I don’t? Tell you what. You hate it so much, you come back to the house Christmas Eve and we both get them in the morning,” Chris suggested. Like Kenn would agree to that. Not his stubborn butthead of an almost ex-husband.
“Okay. That works for me.”
Wait. What?
Chris blinked a few times, but there was no damn way he was backing down. “Good, that’s settled. I have to go.”
“Bye.”
He got up and grabbed his briefcase, heading off before he could say anything else moronic. What had he just gotten himself into?
Chapter Three
K ENN MANAGED to pick the kids up from the babysitter’s after his ten-hour shift, get them fed, and have Micah at school for his Christmas pageant on time.
Now he and Sarah had an hour to kill, and Sarah was in full meltdown mode. “Daddy! You didn’t let me finish my nuggets!”
“I told you we were in a hurry.” He sat on the steps right inside the school doors. God, he was tired. Like deep down. Between the coffee shop and the toy store, he was putting in forty-eight hours a week right now, and he was scheduled for, what? Eighty plus the week before the actual holiday. Thank God Chris had agreed to take the time off to have the kids that week. And without too much of an
Two jobs. His fucking creative artist was working two jobs. It wasn’t like he wasn’t helping with the kids, because he was. His money had to stretch to two households now, though, and all their extracurriculars. Plus he needed to keep feeding the university fund.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll juggle some stuff and take them the week before Christmas. I’ll bring them home Christmas Day at noon.” That seemed fair to him.
Kenn’s face fell, and he saw those amazing eyes shimmer, then Kenn shook his head. “I want them Christmas morning. That’s special to me.”
“You think it isn’t special to me?”
Did Kenn really think he didn’t give a shit for the kids? For Kenn himself? This separation was not his idea. Shit, he’d been calling Kenn’s bluff when he’d said, “Then leave.” He’d never for a moment thought Kenn actually would.
“You mean if someone doesn’t call you in to work?” Kenn shot back at him.
“That was an emergency.” If the company had lost that overseas contract, he’d have been out of a job. Then where would they have been?
“There’s always an emergency. There’s always a trip or a phone call, or anything or anyone that will keep you from having to deal with us.”
“Or keep me from losing my fucking job. Did that ever occur to you? That if I hadn’t left that night to deal with the shit hitting the fan, I would have been in the unemployment line?”
Jesus, they didn’t even live together anymore and it was the same fucking argument.
“Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. It’s tough to be that important to someone, for everyone to need you.” Kenn didn’t sound like he was being sarcastic at all.
Chris just stared for a moment, then looked at his watch. He downed his coffee. “I have to get moving. I’ll take them on Friday night, keep them for the week, and bring them back Christmas Day at eleven.” Look at him, giving in by an hour.
“Christmas Eve at ten p.m.”
He shook his head. No way. “Christmas Day, ten a.m.” The kids were going to be up at the crack of dawn anyway.
“Bring them in the car late, then. Midnight.”
“That’s not fair to them. Nine a.m., but that’s my final offer—I’m giving up Christmas breakfast with them for that.” That was one of their traditions. Stockings at the end of their beds, Santa’s gifts when Daddy and Da were up, then breakfast before they unwrapped the rest of the gifts. That’s how they’d done it every year since they’d adopted the kids—Micah just three, his baby sister newly born.
Kenn’s shoulders dropped, his face falling. “I hate this.”
“And I don’t? Tell you what. You hate it so much, you come back to the house Christmas Eve and we both get them in the morning,” Chris suggested. Like Kenn would agree to that. Not his stubborn butthead of an almost ex-husband.
“Okay. That works for me.”
Wait. What?
Chris blinked a few times, but there was no damn way he was backing down. “Good, that’s settled. I have to go.”
“Bye.”
He got up and grabbed his briefcase, heading off before he could say anything else moronic. What had he just gotten himself into?
Chapter Three
K ENN MANAGED to pick the kids up from the babysitter’s after his ten-hour shift, get them fed, and have Micah at school for his Christmas pageant on time.
Now he and Sarah had an hour to kill, and Sarah was in full meltdown mode. “Daddy! You didn’t let me finish my nuggets!”
“I told you we were in a hurry.” He sat on the steps right inside the school doors. God, he was tired. Like deep down. Between the coffee shop and the toy store, he was putting in forty-eight hours a week right now, and he was scheduled for, what? Eighty plus the week before the actual holiday. Thank God Chris had agreed to take the time off to have the kids that week. And without too much of an
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