Sweet Temptation

We are free.

CHAPTER FORTY

Good

“I believe now, there’s a reason why I’m here.

It’s to try to do good, it’s to try to do better.”

—“Free Now” by Sleeping with Sirens

Six years later . . .

I’m sure everyone’s curious about what it’s like to be married to me. It’s awesome, if I do say so myself. In many ways we’re just like other couples. She gently scolds me for leaving dirty dishes all over the house, and I have to sit through cheesy chick flicks. But it’s so much more than that.

A

I spent seven months worrying, listening out, watching for her goons, and not letting A

Six weeks later I held A

“She’s in heaven,” A

I’d swallowed hard as I held A

Like other couples, A

As for my job, in Lascivious’s fourth year of success, Raj went off the deep end and OD’d on a mix of drugs. An accidental death, but the band never came back after losing him. We went our separate ways, and I’m now working with Jay on the business end of the industry, making music and learning about producing. I do miss the rush of being onstage, but at least A

Though it was a complete turn-on when she once grabbed a girl’s arm backstage, saying, “Excuse me, but that is my husband you’re trying to grope, and I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.” She’d said it with Southern charm, but I could see in her stance that my girl had been ready to throw down.

I rewarded her well that night for saving me from the groper.

And I suppose that’s where we differ from other married couples.

We spend a lot of time in the buff. It’s not really fair to compare, since we’ve been through so much together, seen so much in our lives. We don’t have the same worries that other people do.

But what can I say? Life is good. Every time I see A

But I’m quite persuasive.

One year ago, as we lay together on the couch, she ran her fingers through that small patch of hair in the middle of my chest. A pang of old worry crept in.

“Do you suppose I should get rid of that?” I asked. “Shave it off or laser it or something?”

She’d looked at me with confusion. “What? This hair? Why? I like it.”

She’d laid her head back on my arm, and I held her tighter. I am a lucky bastard.

That’s why I tried not to blanch when she hesitantly brought up the idea of adopting from Malawi. She puts up with a lot of shit from me, so I fought back my initial instinct to run screaming at the idea of a tiny person invading our content little bubble. A lot would change.

No more walking about naked.

No more shagging A

No more playing the drums at night as loudly as I want.

No more blasting music with colorful language.

No more shagging A

I’m still a selfish bastard who doesn’t care to share, especially where A

I know she misses Patti like mad. I do as well, so I can’t imagine how it is for her. I know A

You can teach him drums and music, and dress him in tiny rocker clothes, and show him how to skateboard, and . . .

Then she mentions a set of brothers, instead of just one child, and I think she’s trying to kill me. She claps her hands, and her face is so filled with joy that I throw my hands up and sigh. Why the hell not? Let’s do it.

And that’s how we ended up here in Malawi at the orphanage owned by Kope and Zania. They’re looking well. I suppose if caring for loads of children hasn’t aged them terribly, A

I’m far more nervous than I care to admit, so I hold A

Kope comes back in with a toddler and a baby, one on each hip, and they’re bloody cute as can be. A burst of excitement I hadn’t pla

These are my boys. My sons.

My God, I can’t believe this is happening.

A

“Hi, Onani,” she says to him, laughing.

I can’t help but smile. I look down now at the older boy, Mandala, and he’s clearly going to be a tougher sell. He looks a bit untrusting, and I can understand that feeling. But I’ve come prepared. I squat next to him and pull out a toy car, a red hot rod. I hold it out, not getting too close. He takes a tentative step toward me.

“It’s yours, mate,” I say, stretching my arm closer to him. “I brought it just for you.”

I keep my arm extended until he slowly walks forward and takes it from me. He stares at my eyes, as if expecting me to take it back or yell. I nod and smile. I crouch and urge him to roll it on the ground. I even make some awesome engine sound effects and he suddenly looks up at me and smiles.

I have to swallow back a bout of mounting emotion. I want this boy to trust me. I want him to never fear me. I want to do right by him.

It’s fu