His Perfect Little Heirs (Kids of The District)

by Nicci Harris

Two open eyes. One button-shaped nose.

Barely feeling the aches through the endorphins and euphoria, I turn to face Clay so I can properly present him with his sons. He accepts both boys, holding their heads in his palms, with their backs cradled along his tattooed forearms. And just like that, he’s a dad. Not the Don of the Cosa Nostra. Not my Sir or the mayor or the most powerful man in the city, but something far more important and infinitely simpler. Just a man. A man holding his twin boys for the first time. A man with tears rushing over his chiselled jaw. With a smile—a genuine smile—the kind that lights up every inch of his face, that glows along each line. The kind that only comes around once in a while from a man like Clay Butcher.

“Madonna Mia,” he finally says, his voice overcome as his gaze sweeps over his perfect little heirs. “Look what your magic made for me, little deer.”