That’s what a nice smile looks like, right?
She looks up at me and takes me in for another moment, but I see something shift behind her eyes and she gives a little nod before stepping forward to grab a blanket off a shelf and lays it out on the floor, setting the baby down on it. She then goes to the basket and grabs out a few toys and lays them out within the baby’s reach. I can’t help but freeze and I look down at him while he rolls onto his side and reaches for his feet. I can’t remember the last time I even saw a baby. She nods again and offers a small “thanks” before turning and looping her arm through Clay’s, letting him lead her from the room.
I stare down at the little ball of person at my feet, unsure of what to do. I haven’t done the kid thing, let alone baby thing, since my siblings were little. I have no idea what to do with this thing that’s currently attempting to shove his own foot in his mouth. He rolls over onto his stomach and eyes all the toys his mom laid out for him. He reaches for one of the plushy little planes I had picked out. It’s just barely out of his reach and he grumbles, reaching for it again. When he still can’t reach it, he pulls his knees up under him and pushes off, moving forward an inch or two. He reaches for the plane again and grunts in satisfaction when he wraps his little fingers around a wing in a little death grip. He pulls the plane closer and rolls back onto his back, holding it up in the air and balancing it between his hands and feet.
I watch as he studies the plane for a few moments, turning it over in his hands like he is taking it in and learning all the different parts. After he turns it all the way around, he cranes his neck around and looks at me with another grunt. I just stare back at him, unsure what he’s doing. He grunts at me again, louder this time and starts flailing the plane over his head. When I still don’t respond he babbles in a grumpy tone and smacks the plane against the floor.
“What kid? Want me to take it or something?” I ask him, cuz just staring at him must be pissing him off. He keeps yelling at me, so I crouch down and take the plane from his little fist. Looking up at me with a big smile he lets out a giggle. I can’t help but chuckle at how fast his mood flips. Looking down at him, the toy hanging from my fingers, I’m completely unsure of what to do. It doesn’t take long for that little crinkle between his eyebrows to return and for him to grumble at me, waving at the toy. Clearly, I am fucking up again. This is worse than shopping with Roxy. Before I can figure out what he is after he pouts and cries again. Fuck. I hate seeing kids upset, and the last thing I want to deal with is his mother thinking I fucked up, so I drop to my knees in front of him and start buzzing my lips like an engine and fly the plane around his head. Thankfully he pulls another whiplash mood swing and starts babbling and giggling as he swipes for the plane when I bring it close enough to him.
Damn, this kid’s the best; tiny giggles, burbles, and smiles… It reminds me of home. Part of me has always wanted this, to settle down eventually and have a couple of rugrats of my own; but after growing up the way my siblings and I did, and after leaving New Jersey I’ve all but given up on having all of it. I play with the plane and before long I hand him a second one and we’re playing out a dogfight, complete with sound effects and me calling out “There ya go bud! … Ahh! Watch out! ... Kamikaze!” as I swoop my plane down and tickle Evan with it, earning a squeal and delighted giggle.
Eventually I get the feeling we’re being watched, and I turn to see Tessa leaning against the door frame watching us with an unreadable look. I shoot her a playful smirk before turning back to Evan and tickling him again, eliciting another squeal and giggle out of him. I can’t help but smile and laugh along with him, I can’t help but be in the moment of pure, baby joy.
Chapter 5
Tessa
What in the ever-loving hell is going on?!
I follow Clay into the cutest little house I have ever seen the afternoon following his ambush at breakfast the day before. The house itself is a side by side duplex, with a large covered front porch that both units share. It’s an older structure but well maintained, with blue cement board siding and crisp white trim and railings. Clay leads me into the unit on the right and the first thing that hits me is the scent of burning candles, fresh pine, possibly trying to cover up the tang of fresh paint that still lingers in the space.
The door opens on a small tiled entryway leading into a small but cozy living space. A large picture window looking out toward the street offers plenty of natural light and makes the room feel bright and welcoming. Through a large arched opening beyond the living room there’s a quaint, cozy looking kitchen. Through the kitchen there is a small mudroom and a door that leads to the well kept, albeit small, fenced in backyard and detached garage. Off the kitchen there is a steep set of stairs that twist their way up to the upper floors. I follow Clay up to the first landing where he leads me into the nursery. When I see the imposing man bent over the crib fighting with the mobile, I stop dead in my tracks. He’s rough and bruised, recent cuts still healing, obviously a fighter. I admit to being scared at first, only seeing a mountain of a man in a leather jacket with an intimidating grim reaper across his back. But when he straightens and turns toward us, I fight to keep my jaw from dropping. His eyes catch mine and I feel the air get sucked from the room.
Holy shitballs Batman...I didn’t know they made them that handsome.
Before I can process what’s happening, thanks to my traitorous ovaries screaming their little heads off, Clay has somehow convinced me to lay Evan at the gorgeous fighter’s feet and go off to finish the tour. I take Clay’s arm and let him lead me out of the room and up the next flight of stairs, feeling not entirely in control of my body at the moment.
Clay opens the door at the top of the stairs and ushers me into the master suite in the repurposed attic space. There is a queen-sized bed with a headboard done in beautiful wrought iron scrollwork. The bed is piled high with layers and layers of white blankets, pillows, and a dark purple knit throw draped across the end. Twinkle lights hang along the ceiling behind the bed, covered with the most delicate sheer fabric. It looks like a fairy hideaway. The deep purple walls, the gray wood dresser with the vanity mirror attached; it’s all exactly what I never knew I wanted. There are two doors in the wall off to the left, one leads to a decent sized walk-in closet and the other to the en-suite bath decorated in creams and touches of deep purple. It’s perfect, beyond perfect.
I stand frozen, trying to take it all in. The house, the room, the job, it’s all so overwhelming. I feel tears burn behind my eyes and I can’t hold them back. I turn to thank Clay and the first hot tear breaks free, sliding down my face. The look of patient pride and excitement in his eyes does me in and the dam breaks. I collapse into his chest, wrapping my arms around him and holding on as the sobs overtake me. Clay wraps his arms around me and holds me close, stroking a hand up and down my back in a comforting motion. It’s such a fatherly display of affection and care, and it breaks me even more. This simple hug from a man I hardly know is the most physical contact and comfort I have received from anyone other than Evan in I don’t know how long. I let the tears and emotions run their course a little longer, enjoying the comfort Clay is offering before I take a deep breath, quelling my emotions, and stepping away.