Violet
By the time we got home from the clubhouse, I was exhausted.
Completely, utterly exhausted.
Thane apparently wasn't.
Our son had slept through half his own party and decided eleven at night was the perfect time to stare at us with wide-open eyes.
Doom carried his car seat inside while I followed with absolutely nothing.
Because my man refused to let me carry so much as the diaper bag.
“I'm capable of carrying things.”
“Your ass had surgery.”
“Almost two weeks ago.”
Doom looked over his shoulder.
“And?”
I rolled my eyes.
There was no point arguing.
Inside, Doom locked the door while I carefully lowered myself onto the couch.
My feet were killing me.
Wedges had been a terrible idea.
Worth it.
But terrible.
Doom took one look at me.
“Shoes.”
“Yes, Dad.”
His eyes
