The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 4

Mia's POV

Glass floor panels show the ocean below, actual fish swimming beneath our feet. A private infinity pool that seems to pour directly into the lagoon. A deck with stairs leading straight into water so clear I can see the sandy bottom twenty feet down. And the bed—

"THE BED IS BIGGER THAN OUR ENTIRE APARTMENT!" Alexander has already claimed it, bouncing in the center like it's a trampoline. "LOOK! I CAN DO A STARFISH AND I DON'T EVEN TOUCH THE EDGES!"

"Alexander, shoes off the bed," I say automatically.

"BUT I'M TESTING THE STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY!"

"Test it without shoes."

He kicks off his sneakers. They fly in opposite directions. One lands in the pool.

"...oops."

"I'll get it." Kyle is already moving.

Ethan has found the glass floor panel and is lying on his stomach, face pressed against it, watching the fish.

"Mama," he breathes. "Mama, there's a school of sergeant majors. And I think—yes—that's definitely a parrotfish. You can tell by the beak-like jaw structure and the—OH! There's a triggerfish! Did you know they can rotate their eyes independently?"

"I did not know that."

"Well, now you do. You're welcome."

Madison is standing at the railing, looking out at the ocean. She hasn't said anything since we arrived. Just standing there, Eleanor clutched in one arm, her other hand gripping the wood like she's afraid it might disappear.

I move beside her. Don't touch. Just stand.

"Pretty big, huh?" I say quietly.

She nods.

"Bigger than you expected?"

Another nod.

"Want to know a secret?" I crouch down. Eye level. "It's bigger than I expected too. And I'm thirty years old. So it's okay to feel... whatever you're feeling."

She looks at me. Those dark eyes that have seen too much.

"I'm scared it's not real," she whispers.

Oh.

Oh, sweetheart.

"It's real," I promise. "I know it feels like—like maybe you'll wake up and it'll be gone. But it's real. The water is real. This place is real. And we're here. All of us. For two whole weeks."

"Two weeks is fourteen days."

"It is."

"That's a long time to dream."

"It's not a dream, Madison. But if it helps, you can pinch me. See? I'm solid. Real."

She reaches out. Very gently. Pinches my arm.

"Ow."

"You're real."

"Very real. And so is this vacation."

She nods slowly. Then, so quietly: "Can we go see the water? The real water? Not just looking at it?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Let me just—" I stand. Raise my voice. "OKAY, TEAM BRANSON! BEACH TIME!"

"BEACH!" Alexander launches himself off the bed. "FINALLY! I've been WAITING! I've been SO PATIENT!"

"We arrived seven minutes ago," Ethan points out.

"SEVEN MINUTES OF PURE PATIENCE!"

"That's not—"

"Boys. Sunscreen first."

Alexander's face falls like I've just announced we're canceling Christmas."No," he says. "No, Mama. Please. Not the sunscreen. It's GROSS! It's SLIMY! It makes me smell like CHEMICALS!"

"You know what else is gross? Skin cancer."

"I'LL RISK IT!"

"Alexander—"

"NATURAL SELECTION, MAMA! DARWIN WOULD WANT THIS!"

"Darwin would want you to adapt to your environment," Ethan says. "Which includes protecting yourself from harmful UV radiation. The ozone layer has thinned significantly since—"

"WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?"

"Science's side."

Kyle emerges from the bedroom with a bottle of sunscreen. SPF 50. The good stuff. "Everyone line up," he says. "This is non-negotiable."

"That's TYRANNY!" Alexander cries.

"That's fatherhood. Line up."

Madison goes first. She stands perfectly still while Kyle applies sunscreen to her face, her arms, her legs. She doesn't complain. Doesn't squirm.

Ethan goes next. He provides running commentary.

"Did you know that SPF 50 blocks approximately ninety-eight percent of UVB rays, while SPF 30 only blocks ninety-seven percent? That one percent might seem negligible, but over the course of a two-week vacation, the cumulative—OW! You got it in my eye!"

"Sorry. Stop talking and close your eyes."

"I was being educational—"

"Close. Your. Eyes."

He closes them. But continues talking. "The active ingredients in most sunscreens are either chemical absorbers like avobenzone and octinoxate, or physical blockers like zinc oxide and titanium dioxide. This one appears to be a hybrid formulation based on the—"

"ETHAN."

He sighs. Falls silent.

Then it's Alexander's turn.

This is where things get complicated.

"No," he says, backing away. "Nope. Not happening. I'll wear a shirt. A big shirt. A HUGE shirt. I'll cover every inch of my body with FABRIC—"

"Alexander." Kyle's voice has gone dangerously calm. "Come here."

"You can't make me."

"I absolutely can make you. I'm bigger, faster, and significantly more motivated."

"You'll have to CATCH me first!"

They're off. Chasing each other through knee-deep water, splashing, laughing, making enough noise to wake up every fish in the Indian Ocean.

Madison stands at the edge. Not quite touching the water. Just looking.

"Want to try?" I ask.

She nods.

I take her hand. We wade in together. Slowly. One step at a time.

The water is perfect. Warm but not hot. The kind of water that makes you feel like you're melting into it.

"It's nice," Madison whispers.

"It is."

"Can I go deeper?"

"As deep as you want. I'm right here."

We wade out. Deeper. The water rises to her knees. Her waist. She's still holding my hand. Still holding Eleanor with the other.

A small wave comes. Maybe six inches high. Barely a ripple.

Madison gasps.

"It moved!" she says. "The water MOVED!"

"That's a wave, sweetheart."

"It's ALIVE!"

"Well, sort of. The ocean is always moving. The tide comes in and goes out and the waves—"

Another wave. Slightly bigger.

Madison laughs.

Actually laughs. This sound I've heard maybe a dozen times in the six months since we brought her home. This sound that's rare and precious and makes every difficult moment worth it.

"Again!" she says. "I want another one!"

As if on command, a wave comes. She jumps. Splashes down. Laughs harder.

I look over at Kyle.

He's standing in deeper water with the boys, teaching them how to float. Or trying to. Alexander is not cooperating.

"I CAN'T float!" he's saying. "My body is TOO DENSE! I'm made of PURE MUSCLE!"

"You're made of about sixty percent water," Ethan says. "Same as all humans. The density ratio—"

"ETHAN, NOT HELPING!"

Kyle catches my eye. Grins.

This is chaos, his expression says.

I know, mine says back.

Worth it?

Absolutely.