Instant Parents with My Enemy

Chapter 08

Jasmine's POV

“Mama, I think we need to call Papa Nate before we leave,” Keith informed me seriously as I struggled to get him dressed.

We were getting ready to head out for groceries and a few household essentials. I had just finished giving both twins a bath, which somehow felt like a full-body workout, and now I was attempting to get them dressed without either of them running away.

This was literally all I'd done today.

And I was already exhausted.

Cleaning the entire house. Bathing two energetic four-year-olds. Finding their clothes. Getting them dressed. Keeping them from fighting over a toy. And somehow remembering that they needed actual food.

I had no idea how real parents did this every single day. I was beginning to respect my own mother a whole lot more.

“Mama?” Keith called out again, tugging gently on my sleeve.

I looked down, letting out a tired breath. Keith was standing in front of me with one sock pulled up to his knee and the other mysteriously missing.

“Yes, baby?” I asked softly, searching the floor for the stray sock.

“Papa Nate,” he repeated firmly.

Right. Nate.

He hadn't returned since leaving earlier that morning, and I'd been waiting for him to come back so we could go grocery shopping together. There was absolutely no way I was going to take two energetic toddlers into a supermarket alone while pushing a cart, lugging bags, and preventing them from climbing into places they shouldn't be.

I might be a successful fashion designer, but I was definitely not a superhero.

Unfortunately, there was one tiny, embarrassing problem.

I didn't have Nate's phone number.

How was that even possible? We had known each other for years. We'd attended countless dinners together. We'd been to birthdays, parties, double dates, and family gatherings. We had spent more time arguing with each other than most married couples spent talking!

And somehow, I had never saved his number. Probably because I'd never actually wanted to call him.

But now I needed him, desperately.

I could call Karen's old contacts, ask Jerry's friends, or perhaps even contact his assistant. Or... I could go straight to his company. I already knew where his headquarters was located.

I briefly imagined myself storming into his high-end office with the twins beside me, pointing dramatically at him while yelling, “How dare you abandon your children!” just like one of those ridiculous scenes from a local drama series.

I almost smirked at the thought. That would definitely teach him a lesson.

“I don't have Papa Nate's number, Keith,” I explained gently, leaning down to button up his little shirt. “But we can visit him instead. I know where he works.”

Keith's little forehead immediately furrowed into a tight knot. “You don't have his number?” he asked, tilting his head.

“No, sweetie,” I admitted.

“But you're a couple!” he insisted, his voice rising in mild confusion.

My fingers froze mid-button. I slowly looked up at him, my brow arching. “What?”

“You and Papa Nate,” he explained matter-of-factly, gesturing between me and the hallway. “You're a couple, right?”

I glanced over at Kitty, who was sitting patiently on the edge of the bed while I finished fixing her hair. She looked just as curious, her big brown eyes blinking back at me.

Where on earth did these children learn this?

I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to stay calm. “We're not a couple, sweetheart.”

Keith looked genuinely confused now. “But Mommy and Daddy are a couple,” he pointed out.

“Yes, they were,” I agreed softly.

“And you're Mama,” he added.

“Yes.”

“And he's Papa.”

“Yes.”

“So... couple,” he concluded with absolute conviction.

I stared at him in utter silence. That toddler logic was disturbingly difficult to argue with.

“No,” I stated firmly, shaking my head. “We're definitely not a couple.”

He tilted his head again, resting a tiny hand on his hip. “Then what are you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Enemies.

That was the obvious answer. We're enemies, Keith. Sworn enemies. Professional rivals. Two people who could turn buying birthday presents into a blood sport. Two people who couldn't spend five minutes in the same room without arguing.

But I couldn't exactly tell a four-year-old that.

“Friends,” I finally lied, forcing a sweet smile to my face.

Keith's eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?” he squeaked out.

“Really,” I affirmed, nodding convincingly.

He looked at me suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “But you fight.”

I nearly choked on my own breath, while Kitty erupted into a fit of giggles from the bed.

“Yeah, Mama and Papa fight a lot!” Kitty chimed in.

“We don't fight,” I corrected quickly, trying to save face.

Keith stared at me. Kitty stared at me. I stared back at both of them.

“Okay,” I sighed, throwing my hands up in defeat. “We argue.”

“That's fighting,” Keith declared sharply.

I pressed my lips together in a tight line. Smart kid.

Now, I don’t know what to say.

“Fine. Sometimes we argue,” I conceded.

“Then you're not friends,” Keith stated simply.

I blinked, thoroughly stumped. “Why not?”

“Friends don't argue all the time,” he reasoned, folding his little arms across his chest.

I glanced up toward the ceiling, asking the universe for strength. This child was only four years old, why was he already better at analyzing relationships than I was?

“Well...” I searched desperately for a child-friendly answer. “Sometimes adults are complicated.”

Keith nodded slowly, accepting my explanation as if he'd just received a profound life lesson. “Yeah, adults are complicated,” Keith muttered.

Thank God.

I returned to fixing Kitty's hair, breathing a sigh of relief and hoping the conversation was finally over.

Then Keith spoke again.

“Mama?” he called out softly.

“Yes?” I replied, sliding a hair clip into place.

“Do you love Papa Nate?” he asked innocently.

My hands stopped dead in their tracks. Beside me, Kitty gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with both hands.

I slowly lowered the hairbrush, staring at the floor before raising my eyes to meet his.

“What kind of question is that?” I gasped out.

Keith shrugged his shoulders innocently. “A normal one.”

I looked at the two of them, then at the clock on the wall, then back at them.

“I love you two,” I stated firmly, trying to dodge the bullet.

“That wasn't my question,” Keith countered instantly without missing a beat.

I stared at Keith in absolute disbelief. Karen, your son is lethal.

Before I could be forced to answer, Kitty suddenly pointed toward the bedroom door.

“Can we go see Papa now?” she squealed excitedly.

Thank God, Kitty is my savior from her noisy twin. I exhaled a massive breath of relief, silently thanking her.

“Yes!” I announced quickly.

I grabbed my purse, hoisted their little backpacks onto my shoulder, and took both of their tiny hands in mine.

“Come on. We're going to Papa's office,” I told them, leading them out toward the hallway.

Keith beamed, skipping alongside me. “Then you can give him your number!”

I groaned loudly, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. “Apparently, that's my most urgent problem today.”

The twins giggled together as we headed down the stairs and out to the car. I had no idea that walking into Nate Davis's high-end corporate office with his two newly orphaned godchildren would turn out to be the absolute easiest part of my day.

Because the moment those elevator doors opened on his executive floor... I was about to discover exactly what kind of man Nate Davis really was when he wasn't busy arguing with me.