“Cousins, actually,” he said in surprise. “Most people don’t catch that.”
“It’s in their mannerisms,” I explained. “The way they move, the way they smile, even their voices are similar.”
“Get the two of them together and fuck,” he said, drawing the word out with a small chuckle. “They could convince the Pope that Jesus was a figment of his imagination.”
“Persuasive, huh?” I asked as I brought the baby to my shoulder to burp her.
“Charming is the word you’re looking for,” he said ruefully. “Snake oil salesmen, the both of them.”
“Does that come in handy?”
“More times than you would think.”
After the loudest burp I’d ever heard coming from someone so small, I laid her on the bed between my knees, quickly finished dressing her, and wrapped her snugly again. “This is another thing that I had no fucking clue how to do before she came.”
“Sure you did,” he said, leaning over to look at her. “You’ve made a burrito before.”
I raised my eyebrows in realization. “Well, fuck.”
Mark laughed. “Lay back down,” he said, his face going soft in a way that was both familiar and brand new. “Maybe she’ll sleep for a while.”
“The sun’s up,” I argued, glancing at his windows.
“You got somewhere to be?”
I looked back at him and dropped all protest when his eyes met mine. The pull was as strong as it had ever been, and I was too worn out to fight it. Not now. Not yet.
This time, when I settled the baby on the open space between me and the edge of the bed and laid down on my side, Mark didn’t hesitate to curve his body into mine. He reached beyond me and set his hand on the tightly wrapped bundle for a moment before his arm came back around my waist and slid up my shirt.
I didn’t bother hiding the arch of my back or the tilt of my hips and he didn’t try to muffle his groan. His lips pressed against the back of my neck just before his body relaxed. It didn’t take him long to fall back asleep, but I laid there for a while, listening to his breathing.
If someone would have told me a week before that I’d end up in Mark Eastwood’s bed again, I would have laughed in their face. I still remembered the devastation he’d wrought, the days I hadn’t been able to crawl out of bed and when I finally had, the absolute confusion I’d felt about what I was supposed to do with myself. My world had started and ended with him, and then suddenly, he’d been gone and I’d been completely rudderless. It had taken me a long time to dig myself out of the hole he’d left me in.
Counting on him again was probably a mistake. I knew that. But, as I lay there next to him, I reminded myself that this was temporary. He was an old friend who had come through for me in a big way, but that was all this was. Maybe if I kept repeating that, I’d be able to keep my feelings in check.
I must have fallen back asleep because we woke up later to the sound of my phone ringing on the nightstand.
“Hello?” I answered groggily.
“We’re outside,” my mom said. “At least I hope this is his house. We’ve been knocking for five minutes.”
“Shit,” I sputtered, sitting up. “I’ll be right there.”
“They’re here?” Mark asked, throwing back the bedding.
“Yeah. God, what time is it?” I checked my phone. “Shit, it’s almost one.”
“They made good time,” he said as he got out of bed.
“Oh, my God,” I said, realizing that we’d been asleep for over three hours. She never slept that long. Snatching the baby up off the bed, I shuddered. As soon as I had her against me and could feel her breathing, I let out a watery sigh of relief. She was okay.
“What?” Mark said, staring at me.
“She slept for so long.”
“That’s a problem?”
I didn’t answer because suddenly we could hear someone pounding on the front door.
“I have a feeling my dad is done being polite,” I said in amusement as I swung my legs off the bed.
“Let’s get this over with,” Mark said as he led me out of the bedroom.
“Not looking forward to the reunion?” I asked dryly.
“I’m not your pop’s favorite person,” he muttered. When we reached the entryway, he paused, opening the drawer of a small table behind the couch. My eyes widened as he pulled out a pistol. “Just a precaution,” he said easily.
“Uh, you might not want to be holding that when you open the door,” I cautioned.
“You might be right,” he mused with a chuckle, setting it on top of the table within arms reach.
He unbolted the lock and swung the door open, and there, looking tired and worried, were my parents and brother Cam.
“I swear to God, CeeCee,” my mom griped as they came into the house. “You’ve given me more gray hair than your brother and sisters combined.”
She came straight for me, and as soon as she’d reached me, her arms were wrapped tightly around me and the baby. “That was the longest trip ever,” she said softly, kissing the side of my head. She leaned back to meet my eyes. “You’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” I replied.
“I’ve had the stress shits the entire way,” Cam complained as he came up beside us. “Hug me quick so I can find a bathroom.”
“Do not blow up Woody’s bathroom,” I warned as he pulled me against his chest.
“Well, I’m not shittin’ in the yard,” he replied. Wrapping his hands around my skull, he tipped my head back to look at him. “All good?”
“Not even close,” I whispered back.
“We’ll get ya there,” he said, kissing my forehead. “But first, bathroom.”
“Down the hall on your left,” Mark directed him.
“Hey, Bumblebee,” my dad greeted, still standing just inside the door. He was watching me closely, his jaw clenched and his eyes soft.
“Hey, Dad.” I tried to smile, but my eyes watered. God, these fucking hormones were the worst.
“C’mere,” he ordered, opening his arms.
There was something about the feeling of my dad holding me close that made everything seem safe. The scent of leather and his deodorant, the way he notched his chin above my head and smoothed the back of my hair with his palm, it was one of the most comforting things I’d ever encountered.
“We’re here now,” he said with a sigh.
“You made good time,” Mark said from somewhere behind me.
“We were motivated,” my dad replied as he let me go, leaving one arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Fill us in?”
“While I make breakfast,” Mark said, jerking his head toward the kitchen. “You guys hungry?”
“Starving,” my mom replied.
We followed Mark into the kitchen and my mom started laughing. “Well, this looks familiar,” she said, staring at the table covered in car parts.
“Bullshit,” my dad argued, leading me to a chair. As soon as I’d sat down, he ran his hand over my hair again before stepping away. “Woman, you have never let me leave any of my shit in the kitchen.”