(Jay's POV)
The sun filtered through the curtains of our shared room, hitting my face like a reality check I wasn't ready for. I blinked, realizing this was the last morning we'd wake up in the Philippines for a long time.
Beside me, Keifer was already awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn't say anything, he just pulled me closer, his heart beating a steady rhythm against my ear.
"Last morning, Jay-jay," he whispered.
"Don't," I choked out, the tears already welling up.
The goodbye with Keigan and Keiren was a mess of snot and promises. I hugged them so tight I thought I'd leave an imprint. "I'll FaceTime you every single day," I sobbed. "Even if I'm in the middle of a lecture on corporate mergers!"
Keifer was more stoic, but I saw his jaw tighten. He turned to Honey, his ever-reliable assistant from Watson Enterprises. "Honey, if so much as a fly breathes near them without permission, I want a full report. Their security is your top priority while I'm in London. You look after them, or you'll have to answer to me."
Honey bowed, her face a mask of professional calm. "Understood, Sir Keifer. They'll be safe."
The airport was a chaotic mix of Section E madness. David, Mica, Calix, Freya, and Edrix were already there, surrounded by mountains of luggage. Then the rest of the gang showed up to see us off.
Ci-n was, predictably, the loudest. "Oh, look at them!" he wailed, draping himself dramatically over a luggage trolley. "Going off to the big city, leaving us poor souls behind to rot in the heat! Who will I tease now? Who will protect me from the scary monsters of the Philippines?"
"Ci-n, you are the scary monster," Edrix deadpanned.
"And hey," Ci-n added, a devious glint in his eye as he looked at Keifer and me. "Don't think we don't know why you chose a house together in London. All that freedom... just the two of you... no Angelo to play bodyguard... we expect a 'London-made' niece or nephew soon!"
I turned bright red. "Ci-n! Shut up!"
Keifer just smirked, pulling me into his side. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Ci-n."
The flight was long, but Keifer didn't let me stay sad for long. As soon as we were at 30,000 feet, he started.
"You know, Jay," he said, leaning in close while I was trying to read a business journal.
"I was looking at the floor plan of our new house again. I think we need to install a very specific rule."
"What rule?" I asked, suspicious.
"The 'No Clothes Allowed Near the Kitchen Island' rule," he whispered with a wink.
"Keifer! People are sleeping!" I hissed, swatting his arm while my face felt like it was on fire. He spent the next three hours 'planning' our interior design, which mostly involved him finding ways to tease me about our new-found privacy.
The flight was supposed to be thirteen hours of me catching up on sleep and mentally preparing to be a "responsible successor" for the Fernandez and Mariano corporations. But with Keifer Watson sitting next to me in first class, "responsible" was the last thing on the menu.
"Keifer , look," I whispered, practically vibrating in my seat as I pressed my face against the window. "We're actually doing it. London! Do you think the university looks exactly like the brochures? I bet the library smells like old parchment and expensive tuition fees."
Keifer chuckled, leaning back with that effortless "Young CEO" poise that usually made girls faint. "You're more excited about the library than the fact that we're living together without a curfew?"
"I'm excited about everything!" I chirped. "The classes, the weather, the trench coats, the—"
"The lack of walls between my bedroom and yours?" he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, velvety register that always made my stomach do a backflip.
I whipped my head around, my face heating up instantly. "Keifer! There are still walls! It's a house, not a studio apartment! And whatever who told you to keep separate bedrooms? "
"Technically," he said, reaching over to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a bit too long on my neck. "I chose the house specifically because the master suite has a very... 'open' concept. Very European. Very 'no-room-for-Jay-to-hide-from-me.'"
"I don't hide!" I huffed, trying to look dignified while clutching a plush airline blanket.
"Oh really?" He smirked, leaning into my personal space until I could smell his cologne—that intoxicating mix of cedarwood and success. "Then why is your heart racing? I can see it hitting your ribs from here, Honey."
"It's the caffeine!" I lied through my teeth.
"Is it?" He took my hand, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over my pulse point. "Or are you just thinking about the 'One Hit Rule' being replaced by the 'One Bed Rule'?"
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief. "Keifer Watson, if you don't stop, I will call the flight attendant and tell her you're harassing a future business mogul."
"Go ahead," he challenged, his grin widening. "Tell her. I'll just tell her we're engaged and you're just 'extra' because of the altitude. She'll probably give us a bottle of champagne to 'celebrate' our first night in London alone."
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You are impossible. I'm trying to be serious about our future! I have to carry two corporations, Keifer! I need to be focused!"
"You can be focused," he whispered, leaning even closer so his breath tickled my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You focus on the corporations from 9 to 5. But from 5 onwards? You focus on me. I've already planned our first night. No unpacking. Just takeout on the floor and me reminding you exactly why we moved six thousand miles away from our parents."
"To study!" I squeaked.
"To be mine," he corrected, nipping lightly at my earlobe before pulling back with a wink.
I spent the next six hours trying to focus on a spreadsheet, but every time I moved, Keifer would "accidentally" brush his leg against mine or lean over to "help" me read a graph, his chin resting on my shoulder. By the time the pilot announced our descent, I was a blushing, stuttering mess, and Keifer looked like the cat who had swallowed the world's most expensive canary.
My excitement for London was now officially a tie between seeing the Big Ben and seeing if I could survive living with a teasing Keifer without combusting.
The moment the wheels hit the tarmac at Heathrow, I was practically vibrating. "Keifer! We're here! Look at the rain! It's so... British!"
"It's literally just drizzle, Jay," Keifer laughed, though he was holding my hand so tight it was clear he was just as pumped.
As we reached the arrivals hall, the London chill hit us, but I was too busy staring at everything—the signs, the red buses in the distance, even the way the air smelled.
David, who was busy wrestling with a suitcase that looked like it contained his entire life, looked over at us and snorted.
"Look at you two," David teased, nudging Mica. "Jay's eyes are wider than the London Eye, and Keifer looks like he's already scouting which skyscraper he's going to buy first. Try not to get lost in each other's eyes and miss the exit, okay? We actually have to get to our apartments."
"Ignore him," Keifer muttered, though he shot David a 'shut up' look.
"Oh, I'm serious!" David continued, laughing as the rest of Section E gathered their bags.
"While we're all cramped in student dorms sharing a communal microwave, these two are heading to their 'love nest.' Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Actually, knowing Keifer, just don't break the furniture on the first night!"
"DAVID!" I yelled, my face turning a shade of red that matched the London buses.
After a round of emotional (and loud) goodbyes, the group split up. David, Mica, and the others headed for the university-managed apartments, waving frantically.
Finally, it was just me and Keifer. He signaled a private black car, and we drove through the winding, historic streets of London until we pulled up to a stunning neighborhood.
"We're here," Keifer said, a hint of pride in his voice.
I stepped out and gasped. It wasn't just a "house"—it was a classic, three-story Victorian townhouse with a modern twist.
The exterior was beautiful white stucco with huge sash windows and a jet-black front door with a polished brass knocker.
"Keifer... this is ours?" I whispered.
"Ours," he confirmed, swinging the door open.
The inside was a dream. The hallway had original herringbone wood floors that led into a massive open-plan living area. To the left was a state-of-the-art kitchen with dark navy cabinets and a massive white marble island (the one he teased me about on the plane!).
The living room had a sleek fireplace and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened into a private, walled-in English garden. But the best part? The winding staircase led up to a master suite that took up the entire top floor, featuring a skylight that let us see the London clouds.
"It's perfect," I said, spinning around in the empty living room.
"It's missing one thing," Keifer said, dropping the keys on the counter and walking toward me with that predatory smirk. "The unpacking. And I think I remember promising you a very 'distracting' first night."
I looked at the beautiful living room, then back at Keifer, and it finally hit me. We weren't just visiting; we were starting our life here. The adrenaline of the move finally mixed with pure, unadulterated joy.
I didn't even give him a warning. I lunged forward and threw my arms around his neck, jumping slightly so he had to catch me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent of him that always felt like home, no matter what country we were in.
"We really made it, Keifer," I whispered, squeezing him tight. "Just us."
He chuckled softly, his strong arms wrapping around my waist as he lifted me off the floor and swirled me around once. "Just us, Jay-jay. No bodyguards, no Section E drama, and definitely no Yuri." He set me down but didn't let go, resting his forehead against mine. "I'm going to make sure these next few years are the best of your life."
But as the silence of the house settled around us, the thirteen-hour flight finally started to win. My eyes felt heavy, and my legs felt like lead.
"Okay, CEO," I murmured, leaning my head against his chest. "I think the 'London excitement' just crashed. I'm exhausted."
"I was wondering when that would happen," he teased, rubbing my back. "The boxes aren't going anywhere. Let's take a nap. We'll tackle the 'Great Unpacking Disaster' tonight when we've actually got the energy to argue about where your shoes go."
We didn't even bother finding the "proper" blankets. We dragged a couple of thick duvets out of a box and collapsed onto the oversized sofa in the middle of the living room. Keifer pulled me into his side, and within minutes, the sound of the soft London rain against the windows lulled us into a deep, peaceful sleep.
A few hours later, the room was bathed in the cool, blue glow of the London night. I woke up to find Keifer already stretching, looking refreshed and dangerous.
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered, pulling a strand of hair from my face. "The sun is down, the city lights are on, and we have approximately fifty boxes calling our names."
I groaned, stretching my arms out. "Can we just live out of suitcases forever?"
"Nice try. But if I don't find my espresso machine in one of these crates soon, someone's getting fired," he joked, hauling me up. "Come on. Let's put on some music and see if we can find our bed before midnight."
I scrambled up from the sofa, still a little bleary-eyed, and grabbed the nearest taped-up box. "Fine, fine! But I get the top shelf in the kitchen for my snacks!"
I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced through the tape of a box labeled 'FRAGILE - JAY'S ROOM'. I expected to see my textbooks or maybe some desk organizers, but as I pulled back the bubble wrap, I froze.
"What is... Keifer, look!"
I pulled out a crumpled, neon-pink feathered boa and a giant pair of sparkling "12th Grade" shutter shades. Below that was a half-deflated inflatable guitar.
Keifer walked over, peering into the box, and immediately burst out laughing. "No way. Is that from the Section E graduation after-party?"
"Oh my god," I gasped, holding up the boa. "I forgot David shoved all the 'party evidence' into my luggage when we were rushing to pack! I can't believe this made it to London."
"I remember this," Keifer smirked, snatching the shutter shades and putting them on. He looked ridiculous—a high-end CEO in a designer t-shirt wearing neon plastic glasses. "This was right before Ci-n tried to do a stagedive off the buffet table and ended up face-planting into the chocolate fountain."
"And you!" I pointed at him, giggling. "You actually wore this boa while you were 'negotiating' with the DJ to play my favorite song on repeat."
"It was a power move, Jay-jay," he said seriously, though his eyes were dancing with mischief. He draped the pink feathers around his neck and grabbed the inflatable guitar, striking a rockstar pose in the middle of our half-empty London living room. "Do I look like a prestigious university student or what?"
"You look like a dork," I laughed, reaching for my phone. "Stay right there, I need to send this to the Section E group chat. Ci-n will die."
"Don't you dare," he warned, lunging for the phone, but the boa got caught in his arm, sending him stumbling back into a pile of packing peanuts.
"Too late! Sent!" I cheered, dodging his reach.
He stayed on the floor for a second, surrounded by pink feathers and foam peanuts, shaking his head. "Wait until I find the box with your old 'Team Keifer' fan club posters, Jay. Revenge is coming."
"Okay, okay! Truce on the photo!" I laughed, shoving my phone into my pocket as Keifer stood up, shedding the pink feathers but keeping the ridiculous shades on his head.
"Since I'm a generous fiancé and I finished my three suitcases in record time," he said, flexing his arms playfully, "I'll help you with your mountain of clothes. At this rate, you'll be dressing out of a box until our second year."
"Hey! Managing two corporate wardrobes takes strategy!" I defended, pointing him toward the large suitcases near the walk-in closet.
We worked in a nice rhythm for a while—Keifer hanging up my coats and blazers with surprising precision (perks of being a CEO, I guess), while I folded my sweaters. It was actually peaceful, just the sound of hangers clinking and the distant hum of London traffic outside.
Until I noticed it got too quiet.
I turned around to see Keifer standing by my smallest suitcase—the one I specifically meant to unpack privately. He was holding up a piece of black bikini set with a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.
"Keifer! Put that back!" I shrieked, my face turning a shade of red that would put a fire engine to shame.
"Now, now, Jay-jay," he said, dangling a matching lace bra set from his index finger. "I was just being a helpful partner. This looks... complicated. Do you need a tutorial on how to fold these? Or perhaps a live demonstration of how they look?"
"You are a pervert! Give it here!" I lunged for it, but he used his height advantage, holding it high above his head.
"Wait, is this new?" He squinted at it, his eyes darkening with that teasing, possessive glint. "I don't recognize this one. Was this part of your 'London Independence' shopping trip? It's very... daring. I didn't know the Fernandez Corporation successor was into such delicate architecture."
"It's just—it's just laundry, Keifer! Give!" I jumped, trying to swat it out of his hand, but he just stepped back, laughing as I stumbled into him.
He caught me with his free arm, pulling me flush against his chest while still holding the lace set just out of reach. "You know, the drawers for these are on the bottom, but I think we should keep them somewhere more... accessible."
"I am going to kill you," I muffled into his chest, unable to look him in the eye.
"With what? A feather boa?" He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper right against my ear. "I like this one, Jay. Why don't you go 'try it on' to make sure the London water didn't shrink it? I'll wait right here."
"KEIFER WATSON!" I finally managed to snatch it and shoved it back into the suitcase, zip-locking it shut with aggressive force.
"Fine, fine," he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'll go back to the boring coats. But just so you know... I've already seen the rest of the suitcase. We have a lot of 'testing' to do this weekend."
I was just about to throw a stray sock at his head when a sharp, familiar cramp shot through my abdomen. My eyes widened. No. Not now. Not the first night in London.
"Jay? You okay?" Keifer's teasing grin vanished instantly as he saw me turn pale and clutch my stomach.
"Bathroom! Now!" I squeaked, bolted toward the ensuite, and slammed the door.
A quick check confirmed my nightmare. The stress of the flight and the move must have messed with my cycle because I was definitely early. "Keifer!" I wailed through the door, my voice muffled by the tiles. "Check the side pocket of the blue suitcase! I think I put a travel pack of pads there!"
I heard the frantic sound of zippers and rumbled fabric from the bedroom. "Blue suitcase... side pocket... Jay, it's empty!" he called out, sounding genuinely panicked.
"Wait, let me check the other one. Fernandez? Mariano? Nothing but clothes and those lace things you just hid!"
"I must have left them in the Philippines!" I groaned, resting my head against the cool wall. "Oh, great. Welcome to London, Jay. Day one and I'm a disaster."
"Hey, hey, stay calm," Keifer's voice was right against the door now, soft and steady. "Don't move. I'm handling it."
The "Young CEO" mode kicked in. I heard him tapping furiously on his phone. Within seconds, he was back. "I just used a 15-minute grocery delivery app. I ordered three different types because I wasn't sure which ones you prefer, plus some chocolate and those heat patches you like. Just sit tight, Honey."
True to his word, the doorbell rang barely ten minutes later. I heard him jog down the stairs and come back up, breathless.
"Jay?" A soft knock. "I'm opening the door a crack. I'm leaving the bag right here. I also grabbed some wipes and a fresh pair of those comfy sweatpants."
I opened the door just enough to grab the bag. Inside, he hadn't just thrown things in; he'd neatly organized the pads, a bottle of water, and a bar of dark chocolate. It was the ultimate gentleman move.
When I finally emerged, feeling a hundred times better but still a bit crampy, the room was dimly lit. Keifer had cleared the bed of boxes and laid out a heating pad.
"Come here," he said gently, pulling back the duvet. He didn't tease me. He didn't make a single joke about the 'undergarment suitcase' anymore. He just tucked me in and sat beside me, rubbing my hand. "Better?"
"Yeah," I whispered, feeling a tear prick my eye. "Sorry for the 'bloody' welcome to our new house."
"Shh," he smiled, kissing my forehead. "CEO training includes crisis management, remember? And you're my most important client. Now, eat your chocolate while I finish the rest of your unpacking. You're officially on bed rest."
As I lay there, I watched Keifer move around the room. The "Young CEO" of Watson Enterprises was currently kneeling on the floor, meticulously folding my sweaters and organizing my vanity as if it were a high-stakes board meeting.
Suddenly, a wave of sharp, white-hot pain bloomed in my lower back and radiated through my stomach. I gasped, curling into a tight ball and pressing the heating pad against me, but the cramp was so severe it made my breath hitch.
"Jay?" Keifer was by my side in a heartbeat, his face etched with genuine worry. He dropped the shirt he was holding and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a warm hand on my back.
"I'm... I'm okay," I managed to choke out, though a stray tear escaped. "I'm sorry, Keifer. This was supposed to be our big, romantic first night unpacking, and now you're doing all the work while I'm a useless mess."
"Stop that," he said firmly but gently, pulling me into his lap so my head rested on his chest. He began to massage the small of my back with the perfect amount of pressure.
"You are not a mess, and you are definitely not useless. You're in pain. If I can handle a corporate takeover, I can handle a few boxes and a grumpy uterus."
I let out a weak, watery laugh, clinging to his shirt.
"Listen," he whispered, his voice vibrating against my ear. "You look restricted. That bra is probably making the pressure on your ribs and stomach worse while you're curled up like that."
I looked up at him, my face flushing even through the pain. "But..."
"No 'buts.' It's just us, Jay-jay," he said, reaching into his own suitcase and pulling out a large, worn-in grey T-shirt that smelled exactly like him. "Remove it. It'll help you breathe better and relax your muscles. Put this on instead. It's soft, it's oversized, and it's much better for sleeping off a crisis."
He stood up and turned his back, giving me privacy with the effortless respect of a true gentleman. "I'll be right here. Change, and then I'm tucking you back in."
I quickly swapped my restrictive top for his shirt. It swallowed me whole, the hem reaching my mid-thigh, and the soft cotton felt like a literal hug.
"Okay," I whispered.
He turned back, a soft smile touching his lips when he saw me drowned in his clothes. He lifted the duvet, tucked me in securely, and slid in beside me, pulling me back into his arms. He didn't try to be "mischievous" anymore; he just kept his hand flat against my stomach, the warmth of his palm acting like a secondary heating pad.
"Get some sleep, future CEO," he murmured into my hair. "Everything else is taken care of."
The next morning, the peaceful silence of our London bedroom was shattered by the aggressive buzzing of a phone on the nightstand. I groaned, burying my face deeper into Keifer's chest, but the caller was persistent.
Keifer reached out blindly, his muscles tensing as he checked the screen. He didn't even have to put it on speaker for me to hear David's frantic, high-pitched voice echoing through the room.
"KEIFER! JAY! ARE YOU GUYS ALIVE?!" David screamed from the other end. "It's 9:00 AM! We're all meeting at the campus gates to scout the best coffee spots and check out the library! Where are you? Did you get lost in your giant house? Did you fall into a gap between the floorboards?! DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE STILL SLEEPING!"
Keifer sighed, his voice thick with sleep but immediately protective as he felt me wince at the noise. He pulled the phone closer to his mouth, his arm tightening around me.
"Keep it down, David," Keifer muttered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We aren't coming."
"What?! Why?! Is the 'London life' already too much for you? Don't tell me you're having a 'honeymoon' morning while we're out here in the cold!"
"Jay is unwell," Keifer said, his voice dropping into that serious, "Gentleman-CEO" tone. "She had a rough night and she needs to rest. I'm staying here to take care of her."
There was a brief silence on the other end. I could practically hear David's brain switching gears from 'annoying best friend' to 'concerned brother.'
"Oh... wait, really? Is it serious? Do we need to bring medicine? I can ditch Calix and bring over some soup!" David's voice was suddenly full of worry.
"No, we're fine," Keifer replied, looking down at me with a soft, private smile. "I've already handled the medicine and everything else.
She just needs sleep and her personal nurse—which is me. Tell the others we'll see them in a couple of days. Don't call again."
He hung up before David could protest and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand. The room fell silent again, save for the soft rhythm of our breathing.
"You heard the man," Keifer whispered, kissing the top of my head as I snuggled closer into his oversized T-shirt. "You're off duty. The corporations can wait, the university can wait, and David can definitely wait."
"You're a very bossy nurse," I mumbled sleepily, my heart melting at how he just brushed off the whole world for me.
"Only for you, Jay-jay. Now, go back to sleep."
I must have drifted back into a deep, cramp-free sleep because when I finally blinked my eyes open, the space beside me was empty. The room was bright now, filled with that soft, diffused London sunlight, and the air carried a scent that definitely wasn't packing peanuts or old boxes.
It smelled like home. Specifically, it smelled like the herb-crusted omelets Keifer used to talk about—the ones his late mother taught him to make when he was just a kid.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open. Keifer walked in, looking far too handsome for someone who had just spent the night on a sofa-turned-bed. He was carrying a large wooden tray, and the sight of it made my stomach growl loud enough to echo.
"Perfect timing," he said, setting the tray carefully across my lap. "I figured the 'CEO Nurse' should probably earn his title."
I gasped. It wasn't just breakfast; it was a masterpiece. There was a fluffy omelet garnished with fresh chives, two slices of perfectly toasted sourdough, a small bowl of berries, and a steaming cup of tea.
"Keifer... you did all this?" I looked up at him, touched. I knew how much those recipes meant to him; he only cooked them when he truly cared.
"My mom always said that a good breakfast is the best medicine for a heavy heart—or a grumpy stomach," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing me a fork. "I made sure the tea is ginger and lemon to help with the nausea."
I took a bite of the omelet, and it practically melted. "It's amazing. You're definitely overqualified for this job."
"Good," he smirked, watching me eat with a satisfied look. "Because I've decided your only job today is to finish this and then decide which movie we're binge-watching. I've already finished the kitchen and the living room boxes. The house is officially starting to look like our home."
I reached out and squeezed his hand, feeling incredibly lucky. Amidst the chaos of London and the pain of being away from the Philippines, having him here—with his mother's recipes and his gentlemanly care—made everything feel exactly where it was supposed to be.
"I love you, Keifer," I said between bites of toast.
"I know," he teased, leaning in to steal a strawberry from my tray. "Now eat up. We have a lot of nothing to do today."
Just as I was about to dive into the second half of my omelet, Keifer's phone started vibrating on the nightstand—not with a ringtone, but with the specific high-pitched chime he'd set for home.
"It's the kids!" I squealed, nearly knocking my tea over.
Keifer swiped the screen and propped the phone up against a pile of pillows. Instantly, two familiar faces filled the screen. They looked like they were sitting in the middle of their playroom, looking suspiciously pouty.
"Ate JAY!" Keigan yelled, his face so close to the camera all I could see were his eyes.
"The house is too quiet! Keifer took all the noise to London! When are you coming back? It's been like... a hundred years!"
"It's been one day, Keigan," Keifer said, though he was smiling widely.
"One day is too long!" Keigan huffed. "The pancakes this morning tasted like sadness because you weren't here to burn the first batch, Jay-jay."
"Hey! I don't burn them that often!" I laughed, feeling a lump of homesickness in my throat.
Then Keiren, the calmer but much more lethal one, leaned into the frame. He adjusted his little glasses and looked at Keifer with a purely judgmental expression. "Kuya, why do you look so tired? Did Ate jay make you carry all the suitcases up the stairs by yourself? Or did you cry during the flight because you missed your bed?"
Keifer's smile twitched. "I didn't cry, Keiren. And I'm a CEO; I have people for suitcases. I'm just taking care of Jay."
"Taking care of her?" Keiren raised an eyebrow, a perfect mini-imitation of Keifer's own 'business' look. "You mean you're hovering like a giant mosquito? Ate jay, blink twice if he's being annoying. We know how he gets when he's 'in charge.' He probably made a spreadsheet just for your breakfast."
"He actually did a great job, Keiren," I giggled, watching Keifer's face go from 'proud brother' to 'mildly offended.'
"Don't defend him, Ate Jay," Keiren continued, relentless. "He's only being a gentleman because he knows if he upsets you, Angelo will fly to London and turn him into a rug. Also, Keifer, your hair looks like a bird's nest. Is this the 'London Fashion' you told us about? Because it looks like you lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner."
Keifer instinctively reached up to smooth his messy morning hair. "Okay, that's enough roasting from a ten-year-old. Don't you have homework? Or a corporation to pretend to run?"
"We miss you, Jay-jay!" Keigan shouted, pushing Keiren out of the way. "FaceTime us tonight! And tell Keifer to buy us some cool London toys so we can forgive him for taking you away!"
"I'll call you tonight, I promise!" I blew them kisses until the screen went dark.
Keifer stared at the phone for a long beat. "I'm going to have to increase their security... specifically to keep them away from my ego. Keiren is getting too smart for his own good."
"He learned from the best," I teased, poking his cheek. "Now, about those 'London toys'..."