by Lori L. Otto
“You don’t need that money,” she states.
“You don’t either, sweetheart,” he argues. “You’re gonna be a billionaire before I am.”
“Really? Am I, Daddy?”
“No.” I glare at Max, but it’s wasted on him since he can’t see. “Hey, you guys didn’t eat anything. Do you want me to get you some plates? I’m sure they can put something together for you in the kitchen.”
“We’re good,” Callen says. “We’re staying down here, and there’s a restaurant nearby that he likes… we’ll just go there in a bit.”
“Like that? Are you sure?”
“Maybe after a shower, but yeah. We ate just before we left.”
“That was hours ago. What’s the restaurant?”
“It’s a… a vegan place,” he says.
“Wow, you really went through with that, huh?” Max nods. “You, too?” I ask Callen.
“For the most part. He’s hardcore. I’m about 90 percent there.”
“Oh, Trey didn’t offer a vegan plate, did he?”
“He had vegetarian,” Max said. “And the salad was vegan. He offered to go out of his way for me, but I told him it was dumb. Not to worry about it.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t do it anyway.”
“I’m sure he did…” Max says, making a face. “But… I just… I don’t know if I trust the preparation when everything else here isn’t vegan, right?”
“I guess I can see that.”
“Finished!” Edie finally exclaims.
Callen sets the tray of makeup aside and hands Max his glasses.
“I don’t know, babe. I don’t think it’s your look.”
“I could go drag,” he argues. “Gimme a dress and heels. I could pull it off.”
“There are some dresses back here, Uncle Max!” Edie suggests.
“Nooo…” Callen and I both say in unison as my brother stands up to study himself in a mirror.
He grins. “You don’t think I make a pretty girl?” he asks Callen.
“You do, but…” He stands up and puts his hands over Edie’s ears. “She was way too heavy-handed. It’s way too much. You could do light contouring, some concealer under the eyes, maybe a little highlighting on the lids, just some gloss on the lips, and your lashes, babe, they don’t need mascara. You have gorgeous lashes.”
Max turns quickly and grabs Callen around the waist, holding him there so he can kiss him and smear some of the lipstick on his partner’s mouth. They both look a mess now.
“I hope you have a plan to take all that off,” I say.
“I hope he does, too,” Callen says, looking only slightly annoyed.
“For you,” Edie says, handing a small packet of makeup-removing cloths to him. “But don’t give it to Uncle Max, please?”
Callen hears something outside the makeshift room. “I think I hear… cake?”
Of course, my girls try to take off in a sprint, but I stop them at the door. “Let’s walk together, okay? Like proper young adults…”
“You’re not young, Daddy,” Willow says, taking the hand I offer her. I look at her sideways, but follow them both as I’m dragged out, one daughter on each arm.
Chapter 35
At the end of the night, I swing by Lexi’s apartment to pick up my son. Thankfully, she meets me at my car, so I don’t have to wake up the girls quite yet.
“He was perfect,” she whispers. “He just ate, so he should go right down for you.”
“Oh, great. Thank you.” I give her gift cards to her two favorite restaurants.
“I told you I wanted to do this.”
“And I appreciate that, but I also want you and Kyle to have a few nights out on me, okay?”
She gives me a hug. “Livvy was so lucky to have you, Jon.”
“I was the lucky one.”
“Don’t deflect the compliment. You were both lucky, but… you’re doing an amazing job with them and I know she’s so proud of you and… at peace with the way you’re continuing to raise them.”
I smile at her. “Thanks for saying that. It means a lot. I really hope she is.”
“I have no doubt in my mind. I pray for you every day… and when I see these kids, I know you’re going to be fine.”
“Really?” I ask, teasing. “When you see Edie mouthing off, or Willow running around like a banshee…”
“I see you raising extraordinary little girls… normally. They have a childhood; they’re going through adolescence. They aren’t privileged little brats… a lot of the kids I teach private lessons to are… horrible. They’re Edie and Willow’s age and they’re entitled little brats and… yours could be just like them. But they’re not. They’re smart and funny and talented and caring and, yes, they can be a handful sometimes… but that’s how tweens are. You just haven’t raised them before.”
“I kind of have…” I think of my brother, Will.
“Not in this decade, Jon… and it gets harder and harder with each one.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Go home and tuck them all in under their warm blankets… and then you do the same. Get a good night’s sleep. Dream of her. I know she’s watching over you tonight. I feel her.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll rest well tonight, too. Good night.”
Edie wakes up just enough to help push Luca’s stroller into the building while I guide a sleepy Willow, and carry the bags containing the formal dresses and shoes they wore earlier in the day. Our new night doorman greets us and pushes the elevator button, seeing I’ve got my hands full.
Had I a third hand, I’d tip him right now, but I don’t, so I’ll make it a point to come downstairs tomorrow night, when I think he’ll be on duty again.
The door to my apartment is cracked when we get off the elevator. “Edie, stop.” I grab her shoulder and leave Willow with her, my heart immediately racing. I know I locked up this morning. Just as I reach the door, it swings open, revealing Will and Shea.
“Shit,” I breathe, pulling at my hair. “What the hell, you guys?”
“I thought the after party was here,” Will says. Shea hugs me quickly, then moves past me to wrangle my kids into the apartment.
“No party, no. I’m exhausted… plus, this was your night off! No baby, right?” I nod.
“Yeah, but… why not spend it here, with my favorite brothers?”
“Brothers?” I check to make sure Luca’s okay; he’s sound asleep in his stroller.
“Max and Cal are getting changed in the other guest room.” He nods across the way.
“No, they got a hotel downtown…”
“They changed their minds,” he says. “You’ve got space. We won’t be bothersome. I promise.”
“I really… I really just want to sleep.” I smile at him.
“And we want to support you in your endeavor. Callen and Max are going to sleep on the pull-out couch–”
I snort.
“Right? We laughed about it earlier, too. But, yeah. Callen’s committed to being on godfather duty tonight. He wants to do it. I told him Shea and I would be on standby downstairs for help… so you could get a good night’s sleep. How long’s it been?”
I think about his question as I watch Shea lead my daughters upstairs. Biting the inside of my cheek, staving off tears, I answer. “The night before she died.”
He hugs me before I break down, but tears are dripping onto the dress shirt he wore to Trey’s wedding, and I hesitate to let him go right away.
“It’s okay, Jon,” he says softly. “Let us take care of you tonight, okay?”
I nod my head against his, knowing he can feel my response.
“Jon?” Shea calls down. “Do we need to do baths tonight?”
“Oh,” I say, wiping my eyes and sniffling, then looking up at her. “No, they’re wiped out. We’ll do showers in the morning. If we can get them into pajamas, I’ll call it a win.”
“I’ve got this,” she says.
“What’re you dr
inking?” Max asks, breezing past me in purple yoga pants and a tank top that’s not befitting for the cold, winter night we’re predicted to have. There’s no trace of makeup left on his face, but I’m wondering if he got this clean at the venue, or here, in my guest bathroom. “Beer… or that fancy scotch you have with Jack sometimes… whaddya want?”
“Are you drinking with me?” I ask him, knowing the pot has worn off by the vibrant look in his eyes.
“Nope. This is to help you sleep better.”
“Then pour a glass of scotch. A little goes a long way,” I tell him. “But help yourself…”
Callen greets me in a Bruins sweatshirt, matching flannel pants and light blue fuzzy socks–not a look I’m used to seeing Callen wearing, but I like that he’s made himself at home here.
“Did you guys eat?” I ask him.
“Nah.”
“Eat. Raid my fridge. There’s plenty. Lots of healthy stuff…”
“You hear that, babe? Your brother’s feeding us.”
“Fuck, yes, I’m starving,” Max says as he hands over the scotch. “First, though, should we put the baby to bed? Take him upstairs?” he asks me.
“I’ll do it.”
“No.” Callen puts his hand on my chest. “Sit down. We can do this. Does he need to be changed?”
Holding my drink away from the stroller, I stick my head in and sniff. “No, seems good right now. But he’ll need to be at some point tonight.”
I watch as Callen carefully tucks his hands under my son’s body and lifts him, supporting his head like he was taught, and brings him into his chest. “Tell your daddy good night, pal,” he whispers, bouncing lightly.
Luca’s still sound asleep, proving that Callen might be perfectly suited for caring for my son. Not many people can get him out of the stroller without waking him. I gently press my lips to Luca’s head. “Good night, son. I’ll see you… in a few hours?” I look at Callen, and he shakes his head.
“In the morning,” he confirms. “We’re taking the baby monitor.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We are,” Will confirms. “Shea and I will have one, and Max and Cal will have the other. That’s four people looking after him to your one. I promise you he’ll be in good hands.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep well without that,” I admit.
“Then Max didn’t pour enough,” Callen says, looking at his partner, and then back at my glass.
“On it,” my youngest brother says as Cal starts up the stairs. My gaze follows him until he makes it to the top, nervous of the precious cargo he has in his arms.
“No, not yet,” I laugh. “Let me drink this first, and then I’ll let you know if I need more.”
“We’ve got better stuff,” Max says. “Not here, but it’s a cab ride away.”
“No, Mascot. I’m not doing that.”
“No! They’re sleep aids, you dolt.” He leers at me, then chuckles.
“I don’t know why you have sleep aids, too.”
“Perhaps they’re not mine,” he says. “When are you gonna sit down?”
I sigh, then finally take a seat on the couch. My brothers join me. “Why’s Cal taking sleeping pills?” I ask him casually.
“Stress. His job. His brain just churns and churns and doesn’t shut the fuck off.”
“Boy, do I know that feeling?” Will says. “But that woman upstairs saved me…”
I smile at Will, but look back at Max, curious. “And the other stuff… doesn’t… help?”
“He doesn’t do that. That’s just me.”
“Oh.” I take a sip of the Glenlivet. “Okay. Hey, do you want me to make something for you to eat?”
“I’ll get it,” Will says, getting off the couch. “Is everything fair game?”
“Whatever you want,” I tell him.
“Vegan,” Max states his preference.
“Wow… how things have changed. I remember you nearly gagging at my place over an eggplant dish,” Will teases him. “What do you think of it now?”
“I liked it after I ate it then,” Max says, “and I love it now.”
“I’ve got some… in that bowl on the counter.”
“And I know how to cook it. What does Callen like?”
“He likes it, too.”
“Perfect. I get to cook one of Shea’s new recipes. She’ll be so impressed with me,” Will says, almost giddy.
“I wanna watch,” Max says, relocating to one of the barstools.
“Daddy? We’re going to bed,” Edie says, her exhaustion evident in her pronouncement.
I set my drink aside. “Do you want me to tuck you in, Wils?” Edie had recently informed me she was too old for this.
“Aunt Shea’s going to, but will you check on me when you go to bed?” she asks.
“Of course, I will. I love you girls. You were great today.”
“Love you, Daddy,” they both tell me.
I decide to follow Max to the island, where I can look up and see the doorway to Luca’s room. The baby isn’t crying, so things must be going well with him.
“Your partner appears to be a natural at this baby thing.” I bump Max on his left shoulder.
“Right? I had no idea.” He shrugs. “Good thing that kid got the third godfather,” he teases me as he watches our brother add seasoning to a slab of eggplant. “Let me see those spices.”
When Shea joins us, she fixes glasses of ice water for everyone else in the apartment. Subconsciously, I took the “they’ll take care of me” idea to heart, because it never occurred to me to offer them anything. I don’t apologize for my inhospitableness. I just take another sip of my scotch, relaxing, reveling in the way it’s making me feel. It was a long day, and I feel unburdened right now, having my brothers, Shea and Callen here. The absence of Trey and Coley is noticeable, but I’m too happy for them to miss them.
The absence of Livvy is… becoming something I’m used to. The fact that I thought of her brother and sister-in-law before her is significant. I drink the rest of the scotch to rid my throat of the lump residing there. Before my glass hits the countertop, Max has it in hand and is returning to the bar. He pours double the amount. I don’t stop him.
“Luca’s sound asleep,” Callen says, squeezing one of my shoulders and putting a baby monitor on the countertop, equidistant from all of us. “I ended up changing him, and he got a little fussy, so I rocked him back to sleep.”
“Shut up, no you didn’t.”
“I did,” he says, smiling.
“I saw him.” Shea validates his story.
“He always cries when someone else changes him.”
“Then they don’t know how to do it right,” he challenges. “With confidence, speed and grace. Just how I played ball.” He’s cocky when he says it. “It works in so many aspects of my life.”
“It’s true,” Max says. “Sometimes, we ditch the grace.”
“Mascot,” Shea says, throwing a dishtowel at his head and laughing. Callen’s quick in his reflexes, though, just as he bragged he was, and catches the makeshift weapon mid-toss.
“He’s not wrong, though.” Before he’s finished with his sentence, he’s done a jump-shot, hurling the balled-up towel into the far side of the sink across the kitchen. “Still got it. Hey, Jon, do you have any avocados?”
I nod to them on the counter, not far from the dishtowel’s final destination.
“I’m making your dinner, Grace,” my brother says as Callen grabs a knife and a piece of fruit.
“This is an appetizer. Anyone want some avo toast?”
I plug my ears. “You sound like California. Get out.”
“We plan to,” Max says, pulling one of my hands from my ear. “Give us time. I want some.”
“I was kidding. I don’t want you to leave.”
Shea pulls herself up on the counter, watching how Callen prepares the dish and, I suspect, monitoring how Will is cooking the eggplant, too.
Once a plate
is set in front of my youngest brother, I grab a wedge and take a bite, wondering what’s so special about this delicacy. I’m surprised to actually like it. I nod, placing the rest back on Max’s plate. “Guys,” I start, looking between him and Callen, “really… you aren’t seriously… thinking of moving all the way to the other side of the country, are you?”
“We are,” my brother says quickly. Callen’s biting his lip and lets Max answer for him.
“But with everything that’s happened–”
“No,” he shuts me up. “I’m not gonna feel responsible, or guilty, or whatever. Jon, sometimes we have to take care of ourselves, and this is what I have to do.”
“But tonight, right? It feels right, all of us together, doesn’t it? And with Trey and Coley, it would be perfect. Don’t you feel like that’s how it’s supposed to be?”
“I’m not denying that you guys and Trey and Coney are… the people I’d want around me all my life. No question. But the rest of this city is slowly suffocating me, man. It’s sucking the life out of me, and that shouldn’t be okay with you. It should concern you, and it should be reason enough for you to support this decision.”
My eyes plead with Callen, who hasn’t said a word. I gather he’s still reluctant to move to the West Coast, too. His career is here–the company he and his father currently run–the one he’s set to take over next year. He looks away from me, but I call him on it.
“Callen, come on. What about McNare Holdings?”
“That’s why we haven’t gone yet,” he responds. “There are details to iron out.”
“And he’s got to do it soon,” Max adds, not looking at him. “But he will.” I notice he doesn’t talk to Callen when he says it, but about him, as if it’s something unresolved between them. To me, that means there’s still room to talk him out of the idea. There have to be reasons for him to stay in Manhattan, or at least closer to New York than California. I just have to work harder to find them.
But if the people he loves most aren’t reason enough, I realize I have my work cut out for me.
“Will, Shea, what do you think?”
They look at one another, then at Max, then at me. “We support him,” Will says. “He swears he’ll come to visit us often, and I believe him.”