Alvin lay in a deck chair beside the yacht's pool, wearing sunglasses and enjoying the warm, humid sea breeze...
The yacht was moving at full speed without disrupting anyone's daily life. They were still three days away from Miami.
Stark was lying in a nearby deck chair, snoring. Beside him stood a high-end crib with a built-in sunshade. Little Morgan lay inside with her fists raised above her head, her adorable little mouth working as she slept just as soundly.
Stark hadn't had a good night's sleep in a week. He'd had no choice but to pick up the pace, figuring he might feel better once they got back to New York.
Alvin couldn't bring himself to tell him that it might only take half a month for a habit to take hold. By the time the yacht reached the New York docks, Stark would have developed a conditioned response.
A lot of good fathers weren't born that way. Most of them were made that way under pressure.
Of course, very few people regretted being "forced into it"...
Alvin glanced at Pepper, who was wearing a bikini and sunbathing with Fox and Jessica. He had to admit, the woman had nerves of steel. It took a lot of courage to leave Stark entirely in charge of the baby.
If little Morgan weren't Stark's own daughter, Alvin thought Stark might launch her into space in a rocket at any moment.
Little Ginny had finished her daily "drinking practice." With a little duck-shaped float around her waist, she struggled to climb out of the pool.
Looking at the sleeping Stark, little Ginny covered her mouth and tiptoed toward Morgan's crib, copying a cartoon character. She pulled faces, trying to wake the tiny, wrinkled bundle of flesh...
Behind his sunglasses, Alvin watched as