Seamus was pretty sure she was getting the words wrong, but he didn’t think that mattered to Bellamy as much as the potential for brain injury when the iPad swung so close to his head he had to slide down the couch to take cover.
Little Sean copied his every action, laughing in evil delight, while Jake was watching it all subtly over his history book. Wes had decided to help Seamus in the kitchen, which meant coloring at the table while he cooked dinner.
He should go save him. Bellamy wasn’t used to children, and Penny and Sean had a lot of energy. Jake still had an alert look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t quite won over yet. Bellamy was a stranger to him, and Seamus had never had a friend Jake didn’t know sleeping over on the couch before. The teenager’s protective instincts for his siblings had definitely kicked in.
He still couldn’t believe Bellamy hadn’t gone back to his hotel after the kids came home. He seemed fine camping out on the couch bed, or pretending to, so the children wouldn’t be shocked with the sleeping arrangements before they got to know him. He just snuck into the master bedroom every night after the kids were asleep and left again before dawn.
Neither one of them was getting much sleep, but Seamus wasn’t complaining. It had been the best few weeks of his life.
“This is my song!” Bellamy announced to the living room at large, standing and placing Penny on the couch with Little Sean as he started to perform the part of the arrogant Gaston. By the time he flexed his biceps and got to, “As a specimen, yes, I’m intimidating!” Penny and Sean were screaming at rock concert decibels, and even Jake’s lips were twitching.
Wes tugged at his hand three times before he managed to look away. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Something’s boiling.” Wes’s blue eyes were saucer size. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s singing with your sister. You want to join them?”
His son shook his head, clinging to his fingers and tugging him back to the kitchen. “You sing like that all the time,” he said thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re friends?”
“It is today,” Seamus laughed, going to the stove and stirring the sauce he’d made to go with what Wes liked to call his veggie spaghetti. Getting Wes and Little Sean to eat vegetables was not an easy job, and he wasn’t ashamed to say he cheated. His life-hack, or whatever the heck the mothers were calling it the last time he helped with a bake sale, was the sauce. Cheese sauce, tomato sauce… Hell, he’d use chocolate sauce if he had to. It didn’t matter. As long as the vegetables were hidden, they’d be eaten.
“He looks scary.”
Seamus paused and looked over his shoulder with a gentle smile. Wes’s anxiety was worse these last few months. He’d taken to Ken Tanaka right away, but there was something very centered about him. Something that made Wes feel safe. Bellamy, however, was a force of nature. And sometimes he scared Seamus too, but for an entirely different reason. “That’s because you don’t know him yet. But do you want to know what Uncle Jeremy said as soon as he saw him in Ireland?”
“What?”
“He said Bell looked exactly like Vini’s new best friend. The Dark Prince. Vini thought he was scary too, but he was actually very kind.” He didn’t really have any idea if Jeremy’s prince was kind, but it sounded good and Wes was obsessed with pictures of Vini. He’d never read the comic, though, so Seamus figured it didn’t matter if he exaggerated.
Wes dropped his crayon and stared at his father with big blue eyes. “He’s Vini’s best friend?”
“That’s what he said. They’ll be having a lot of adventures together.”
“Can I bring down the picture of Vini and me having adventures? The one I got for Christmas?”
Gotcha. “I bet he’d love to see that. After dinner.”
“Dad.”
“After,” Seamus repeated firmly, hiding his grin. “Go tell everyone it’s time to wash up.”
“So I’m a misunderstood dark prince?” Bellamy walked toward him, a sensual twist to his lips. “You know, I didn’t think seeing a man cooking spaghetti would get me so hot.”
Seamus glanced swiftly at the door and shook his head. “Keep your voice down and I’ll make an adult meal for us tomorrow. We ran out of time today and this is what I make for growing children with stubborn taste buds. Now about that singing…”
Bellamy laughed and slid his hand quickly across the back of Seamus’ jeans, making him gasp. “That is a classic French story, my friend. If I didn’t know all its iterations, including the musical numbers, my mother might have disowned me. Elle is convinced it was written about her. In fact, I’m not sure that isn’t how I got my name.”