I smile at their close proximity. I’ve never noticed before just how good they both look together. I don’t think Caleb did either, or at least he never mentioned it.
Neither of them have been able to hold a partner down for long and now I’m wondering if all of these dates they go on are nothing more than a way to get at each other’s jealous sides. Nah, I’m reading into things to distract myself from my own mess of a life.
“Nathan got in touch today,” I chew on the inside of my cheek as I assess their reactions. They look as shocked as I felt at the time of receiving the letter. “He wants to take Dillan for a few days on the eighth.”
“A few days?” Sasha questions and then shrugs a little. “He probably misses him.” Well duh. “Reckon he’ll speak to you too?”
I hope so. “He’ll have to if he wants to take Dillan.”
“In other news,” Tommy announces, noticing my discomfort over speaking about Nathan. “I’m graduating early.”
“What?” I breathe, smiling broadly. “Oh my god, Tommy that’s amazing!” I rush to him and hug his head, mainly so I don’t crush Dillan between us.
“I start an internship at a firm in Doncaster in a few weeks.”
Wow. “Are you moving there? It’s a long commute.”
“It’s only a two hour drive. I’ll be home most weekends.” Realising I’m still hugging him, I release his head and slap him when he pouts at being separated from my boobs. “But they’re so big and bouncy.”
“They might leak on you.” Sasha chips in, making us both giggle when he cringes.
“Take the baby. I need to piss.” Tommy hands Dillan to Sasha before exiting the room.
“I need to get him settled.” I hold out my hands and she reluctantly passes him to me.
My friends leave not too long after I settle Dillan and I’m starting to wonder if they actually come to see me or him. Not that I’m complaining. It’s good to see them, whatever the reason.
Sleep comes quickly, but then I have had a busy day.
******
Valentine is a character. She doesn’t have any rules. As long as I make shit she can sell (her words, not mine) then she’s happy. Obviously she has to have certain customer favourites up front, but mostly she tries to do something different every day.
It’s fun and it helps me to stop worrying about Dillan every two seconds.
Her counter staff seem to be nice women; they know how to work a till and clean up after the customers and mostly they keep to themselves, which I’m grateful for. It might sound awful but I’m not looking to make friends. I just need to focus on making money and dealing with my life right now. Distractions aren’t something I can afford.
“They’re loving your cookies,” Elle, one of the two women who work in the front, smiles, showing slightly crooked teeth as she brings me an empty tray. My face reflects my joy. This is great news. “I kind of ate two though.”
“No problem, I’ll make some more.” Taking the tray from her arms, I place it by the sink and begin prepping my ingredients. I think I’m really going to like it here.
“You’re doing great. I think you may be a better baker than me,” Valentine chuckles and flicks at me with the tea towel.
“I doubt that, but thank you,” I respond kindly and look down at my flour covered hands. Yep. I’m definitely going to like it here.
CHAPTER TWO
“He’s just his uncle.” My mum says calmly. “You don’t have to let him take Dillan.”
But I feel like I kind of do. “He’s been like a father to him.” My voice is soft and quiet as I admit the words I should feel guilty about but don’t. “He loves Dillan a lot. I don’t want him to lose that.” Because Nathan is as broken, if not more so, than me, and Dillan is my anchor. Maybe he can be Nathan’s too.
“It’s your choice.” She grasps my hand and gives it a gentle, yet reassuring squeeze. “But if you feel that the time away from Dillan is too long for you, tell him he can have him until tomorrow night. Don’t force yourself into doing something you don’t want to do. Dillan is only eleven weeks old.”
“I haven’t expressed and frozen enough breast milk for more than two days anyway,” I sigh. I genuinely tried, but failed. My exhaustion has known no bounds recently, what with my new job and such. “He’ll be here in a minute.”
My mum nods and grabs her bag from the side, “I’ll be back later.” She kisses my forehead on her way past and gives me another squeeze, this time with both arms around my shoulders. “Good luck.”
I’m going to need it.
I pace the kitchen, nervously twisting my fingers together. He’ll be here soon.
What am I going to say to him? Should I hug him?
“You’re dead to me.”
I shudder. His words echo through my brain and I suddenly feel nauseous.
I fluff up my black hair with my fingers and stare at myself in the mirror for a moment. Tired grey eyes stare back at me. Only a hint of light green eye shadow rests upon the lids and my lashes are tinted with mascara. I look okay, I think.
Why do I care how I look? It’s not like I’m dressing up for him so he notices me, is it?
There’s a knock at the door. I dart to it, quickly checking my breath by cupping my hand over my mouth, and then I pull it open.
There he is, dark trousers, his hair teasing the collar of his shirt. I can see he’s had a trim, but I’m glad he hasn’t removed too much of the length. Piercing, almost chocolate coloured brown eyes linger on my face. His scent assaults me, always so clean. It’s fresh linen and soap and Nathan.
It takes a lot for me to resist the urge to throw my arms around him, bury my face in his neck and cry for our lost friendship.
“Hi,” I breathe. Christ, I’ve missed him.
He gives me a nod, his lips pressed together in a thin line. I move to the side and motion for him to enter.
“Is he ready?” He clips, glancing around my hallway.
Wow, straight to the point. “He’s in his car seat. He fell asleep.”
“So I’m allowed to take him then,” he seems slightly relieved, his body relaxing a fraction.
Nathan, always so tense. Not that I’m surprised. “Yes, but not until Monday as we planned.”
And there go his muscles; he didn’t stay relaxed for long, “I’ve driven all of this way.”
“I only managed to express enough milk for two days,” I explain, walking into the room where Dillan is sleeping soundly in his car seat.
“I’ve given you plenty of time,” he bites out, his frustration clear.
I sit on the couch, hating the glare aimed my way as he stands in the doorway. “I know. I’ve just been so tired, I really haven’t had the time.” I’m not a cow that squirts out milk by the gallon.
His frown deepens, “Tired?”
“Yes, I got a job two weeks ago,” I smile excitedly. “I now work at Valentine’s; it’s a bakery around the corner. Best in town.”