Rightfully Hers

XXVII

JADA WARREN

"I don't understand why she doesn't have to eat vegetables," Arabelle complained, peering curiously into Charlie's car seat. On her other side, Julian sat by the window, snickering.

"Charlie does eat her vegetables, Ari, they're just not the same as the ones you eat," Isabelle explained, sending Arabelle a glance through the rearview mirror.

After a moment of thought, the brunette in the middle seat nodded in understanding. "I'd rather eat carrots than the gross slime she eats. I take back my previous statement, I am good with my vegetables."

Julian was still shaking with laughter when we drove into our city limits in Toronto. Isabelle had insisted she drive, though she was currently watching her GPS to navigate to my parents' house. We agreed to stay there for the duration of our stay, seeing as their house was much larger than Julian and I's apartment.

I wasn't feeling very well, neither was Isabelle, for that matter. We'd classed her throwing up as the flu, because I currently had a fever of 106, which was a werewolf's version of a 102 degree fever, and I was close to dropping like a fly. My body was not used to such heat, which made it much worse. I made a mental note the entire trip to take Advil as soon as we reached my parent's house.

As my parents were 59 and 60, they'd decided the city life was no longer for them, and they lived in a beautiful home just outside the busy streets of Toronto. It looked like every home you'd ever imagined yourself growing old in. Painted white, a veranda wrapping around the entire house, a porch swing for the two of them to drink their coffee in. They had field all around their house, the closest estate being about a kilometre away.

My dad was seated on the porch when Isabelle rolled into their driveway, and I watched him stand up immediately upon seeing us. Isabelle sent me a nervous glance but I simply squeezed her hand and got out of the car to take out Charlie's car seat. I had her handle in my right hand and Isabelle's hand in my left, Julian and Arabelle in front of us.

"Julian," my dad greeted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "How are you doing, son?"

"Hey, dad," my best friend replied, clasping hands with my dad before pulling him forwards into a hard hug. Julian's parents had never really been present in his life, so whenever I went home from the academy, I brought Julian with me. My parents had technically raised both of us.

"And who is this adorable girl?" My dad cooed, squatting down to Arabelle's level. She beamed proudly, not in any way shy.

"I'm Arabelle. You must be Grandad Warren!" She let out a delighted noise and threw her arms around his neck. My dad looked absolutely thrilled by the actions of the little girl, and he responded to the hug just as eager as she was.

"It's nice to meet you, Arabelle. Why don't you follow Julian inside? Grandma has some treats for special little girls." His eyes, the ones I'd inherited, were bright and gleaming. Arabelle was, technically speaking, his first grandchild.

With even more enthusiasm than before, my daughter shrieked and ran in the direction of the house, allowing my dad to stand up and glance in my direction.

Isabelle took Charlie's handle while I stepped forward to hug my dad. If he noticed how unnaturally warm I was, he didn't comment, only wrapping his arms around me and holding me in his familiar embrace. As much as I hated to admit it, I'd missed the feeling of his hugs.

"We both missed you, Jada," he whispered in my right ear. "We're glad you're home. You seem happy."

"I am," I replied back, only half lying. I was content with my girlfriend and the two little girls we were raising. I was content with my relationships with my group of friends and with my relationship with Julian. But there were small, nagging feelings that held me back from being completely happy.