*Xander*
Seven Years After Their Wedding
“No,” I said firmly as I shrugged off my jacket. I tossed it over the side of one of the chairs in the breakfast nook nestled in our private kitchen, which was currently full of cooking smells, toys, and screaming children.
Lena arched her brows as she stirred a pot of stew, her hair tied in a large, messy bun on the top of her head.
“What do you mean, no?” she replied with a smug laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.
Alexis darted between my legs, and I almost tripped over her as I made my way toward the kitchen island, laying my palms flat on the surface.
“Lena,” I said slowly, flexing my jaw as a scream pierced the air. Alexis, who was now seven, and Jaqueline, her six-year-old sister, were currently holding Rosie, who was five, down on the rug and tickling her while our sweet, amiable two-year-old daughter Daphne stood by and watched, her mouth twisted in a mischievous smile around her thumb.