“You mean like the cartoon?”
He smiled wider. “Yeah, like the cartoon.”
“I like Peter Pan, he can fly!”
Peter Pan was the first book Micah, Nathaniel, and I ever read to each other, and now we’d read it to Matthew. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with everything Matthew saw and learned with us, but his mother was okay with it. Who was I to bitch?
What bothers me most about keeping Matthew is that Nathaniel is starting to hint that maybe we could have a rug rat of our own. Me, a mom? So not happening. But if he keeps hinting about kids, he may talk me into that puppy he’s been wanting.
I can see us with a puppy, but a baby? Not only no, but hell no. I’m a U.S. Marshal, a legal vampire executioner, and I raise the dead for a living. None of those jobs would work with a baby, and not even the thought of having Nathaniel’s lavender eyes staring up at me from some curly-haired moppet is enough to change that. Besides, brown beats light-colored eyes genetically. I’d more likely be staring into a pair of my own dark brown, and I can see that every time I look in a mirror. I’m not fond enough of my own eyes to want to see them in someone else’s face.