by Sean Michael
“The Y’s got some great programs, and it would be good for him to know how, given the pool out back. I like swimming, so I can go in with him. I’ll try and find a time when you’re home so you can look after Kimberley. Out-Reach has some great programs too.”
Jeff nodded, brain working over his schedule. How was he going to do this?
“I’ll get the schedules from the Y and Out-Reach and see what fits in with us.” Donny began to set the table.
“How do you like your steaks?” The parm went in the oven along with two oil-rubbed sweet potatoes.
“Medium rare, please. Man, this is the sweet side of living with a chef.”
Jeff chuckled, nodded. “Good man. So, do you come from a big family?”
He pulled out the steaks to warm up, the spinach, mushroom, onions.
“Yeah. Four older sisters, four younger ones.”
“Jesus Christ.” He actually stopped, stared. “Honestly?”
Donny laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Can you believe it? I was the only kid with dark hair too. The milkman jokes were legendary.”
“Jillian and I are the only two.” They had been together in foster care for most of their lives. They’d gone through three foster homes before Angela and Jim had taken them in, kept them. Loved them both.
“Yeah? I had my days where I wanted to be an only child, but it wouldn’t have been the same with just two. Are you two very close?”
“Yes, very. She’s my best friend now.” He smiled, started chopping mushrooms. He had a lot of good friends, actually, and he’d be well served to remember that.
“That’s great. I met her my first day.” Donny gave him a rueful grin. “She seemed a little overwhelmed by the kids.”
“She isn’t maternal. Not compared to Beth.”
“You wanted kids too, though, huh?”
He stopped chopping, looked at Donny. “I love the kids, but I was supposed to be their godfather. Beth wanted children. I saw them twice a month for an hour, brought presents, had a glass of wine with Beth.”
“Yeah? So what made you decide to keep them when she passed?” Donny frowned suddenly. “If that’s none of my business….”
“I didn’t decide. It’s what she asked for. It’s in her will, and it was her last wish. I was with her at the end.” Holding her hand. Her poor blistered hand. Fuck. Nobody should die like that. Especially not Beth.
Donny shivered. “I’m really sorry, Jeff.”
“I am too.” He got back to work. “I don’t regret taking them. I love them. I just…. My life is very different than it was a month ago.” Mitch had left almost immediately, and then there were the kids themselves and the lack of sleep….
“I bet. And this is a long-term change.”
“Yes. And I think I might still be in shock sometimes.” There were times where none of it seemed real, like it was a bad dream and all he needed to do was wake up.
“It’s going to be okay. You’re doing great with the kids, and it will get easier. Most people have time to prepare. You didn’t. Plus you’ve got two at once, different ages. Hell, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.” Donny had warm eyes, kind. Sexy.
“I know. Do you like onions?”
“I do. I’m not really picky. Comes from having to eat the ‘cooking lessons’ of eight girls.”
Jeff grabbed a red onion, started heating the pan for the steaks.
There was a cry from the baby monitor. Donny got up and put a hand on his arm. “Just wait a minute, she might settle back down. It’s good for her.”
“You sure? Do you think she misses Beth?”
“No. She’s never going to remember her. Hell, Robin will only remember what you tell and show of her. You’re going to love them, and they’re going to be okay. Kids are resilient. Way more than people think.”
Kimmie stopped fussing almost immediately, her cries turning into little coos.
“See?” Donny smiled. This close Jeff could smell him.
Stop it. Donny was off limits. Off.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Hand me the butter?”
Donny reached for it, T-shirt rising up and exposing a strip of flesh. Jeff looked away, telling himself to chill the fuck out. Donny handed over the butter, almost dropping it as their fingers brushed together.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem.” Oh man. Stop it.
Donny looked at him, blinking a little, and then he took a couple of steps back and gave him a smile. “So… what do you like doing in your downtime?”
“I don’t know anymore.” The words were the absolute truth.
Donny didn’t seem surprised by his answer. “Well, I’d suggest, until Kimberley is sleeping through the night, that you find stuff like watching movies and reading books—stuff that a sleep-deprived dad can enjoy. I happen to love movies on the couch with popcorn myself.”
“With my schedule, it’ll be watching late-night Kung Fu theater, but yeah. Mitch was a go-baby. He’d pick me up at the restaurant, and we’d stay out ’til dawn. Life is different now.” Not worse, but different.
“I heard what happened with him. And I’m sorry, but that kind of thing is better to know from the start, before you get used to the help, you know?” Donny’s eyes were sympathetic. And pretty.
“Yeah. If I meant that little….” He shrugged. What else was there to say?
“Oh, I don’t believe that. You’re a great catch—good-looking, a chef, comfortably well-off. And obviously he loved doing stuff with you.”
“He loved his life. He still does, from what I can see. He just isn’t interested in children or in men who raise them. He wants to play.” Bitter? Him? No….
“Sounds like he’s pretty shallow.”
Jeff shrugged. “He’s beautiful, wild. He knows what he wants, and that’s his freedom.”
“I feel like I should say something, but it all sounds pretty trite.”
That made Jeff laugh. “You know, you’re right. There’s nothing good to say. It sucks.”
“So you gotta focus on the stuff that doesn’t. If you look, there’s a lot of it.”
He nodded, put the steak on the built-in grill, the onions in the hot pan with the butter.
“Oh damn, smell that.”
Jeff nodded, sliced the bread, happy as he’d been in weeks.
Donny opened the fridge and looked in. “What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll drink sparkling water, please.”
“Sounds good.” Donny grabbed one of the big blue bottles out of the fridge and set it on the table.
Soon they were sitting together—plates served, music on, things easy.
“This is really, really good, Jeff.”
“I hope so. I’ve been working at it a very long time.”
Donny chuckled. “You make it sound like you’re sixty.”
“I’m close.” Not even. Not even close.
Donny laughed outright at that. “You are not.”
“Ancient.” He fought the grin.
“You’d better tell me your secret, then, because you look great.”
They laughed together then, and it was surprisingly easy to relax and have a meal.
After they’d eaten, Donny did the dishes, sending Jeff into the living room to find a movie to watch. He picked up The Producers, then put that down. That was stereotypical. The Matrix? Too loud. Oh, The Thirteenth Warrior was harmless and eye candy.
Donny wandered in with another bottle of the sparkling water and a couple of glasses. “You pick something for us to watch?”
“The Thirteenth Warrior?”
“Oh yeah. Antonio Banderas is such a sweet bottom in that one.” Donny’s eye went wide for a second, and he bit his lips.
They stared at each other, then cracked up, both of them laughing hard together. They put the movie in and settled on the couch, comfortable.
“Thank you.” Jeff smiled at Donny. “It’s nice to just sit.”
“It is, isn’t it? Relax for a
bit. And I won’t even ask for gourmet popcorn.” Donny’s eyes twinkled at him.
“Oh, you wait. I’ll get the curry out.”
Donny made a face. “Damn, I was thinking more caramel….”
“Caramel corn with cashews. Mmm.”
“Oh, now that’s a flavor I can get behind.” Donny grinned at him.
“Maybe tomorrow.” He was too full to move.
“I might hold you to that.” Donny stretched and started the movie, smiling. Their legs settled against each other.
It was better than he’d feared, less awkward. Weird. The movie was entertaining, Donny making comments that had him laughing. He thought Antonio Banderas’s little blond friend was completely edible.
Donny stretched when the movie was over. “Man, I love this movie. Thanks.”
“Me too. You heading to bed, or you want to watch one more?”
“It’s a nice grown-up evening. I wouldn’t say no to another movie.” Donny’s smile was warm, friendly. Maybe a little sexy.
“You pick this one.” That way he could watch.
“It’s a deal.” Donny went over to the bookcase of DVDs, taking his time to look through them.
Jeff relaxed back, let himself admire when no one would notice.
“You have Grease!” Donny laughed and pulled out the movie. “This is the only one my sisters watched over and over that I actually liked.”
“Summer lovin’….” Jeff sang the first line of “Summer Nights,” playfully.
Donny laughed. “I think I can recite this movie word for word.”
“Well, put it on. We’ll sing along.”
Donny cackled and changed out the DVDs before coming back to sit with him again.
Crazy. Absolutely crazy. That he’d be sitting and singing “Hopelessly Devoted to You” with a nanny while his children slept. Life was strange.
Donny actually got up and did the dance for “We Go Together” at the end of the movie, laughing like a loon.
Jeff applauded, threw a pillow at the dork, both of them rolling with laughter. It wasn’t until a tiny hand grabbed his shirt and tugged that he looked down. “What are you doing out of bed, Robin?”
“I heared you.”
“Oops. I’m sorry, Robin. We were singing along to the music.” Donny bent down in front of Robin, smiling. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
Robin hugged Donny. “I sing?”
Jeff chuckled. “I don’t think these songs are for you, buddy.”
“We could sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle.’” Donny sat back down, putting Robin between them.
“Star song!” Robin clapped, leaned against him, and Jeff grabbed a blanket, wrapping his baby boy up.
Donny led them through it, Robin’s little voice joining in enthusiastically. He did love that happy sound, how Robin cuddled into him, fingers holding his. They went through the song twice before Robin’s eyelids started to sag. He hummed softly, nodding as Donny turned the lights down. Donny kept singing, voice becoming softer and softer until Robin’s eyes closed for the last time.
“Thank you,” he mouthed.
Donny just smiled and mouthed back, “I’ll take him up.”
He nodded, handed Robin over, and started cleaning up from their snack. Donny disappeared, the soft sound of his singing trailing behind him. For the first time in almost a month, Jeff felt like he could do this.
The house wasn’t just quiet, it was peaceful; he had help, he’d gotten some sleep. Yeah. Maybe he could do this.
Chapter Six
DONNY SETTLED happily into a routine with the kids. Now that they had the things they needed, and the house was childproofed, he felt like he had a handle on stuff. Jeff worked pretty crazy hours, but as they were consistent, Donny thought they were working.
He was putting in more time than originally agreed upon, but he didn’t mind; it wasn’t like he had a huge social life that he was missing by getting up with Robin in the mornings so Jeff could sleep in, or hanging out with them.
This morning was no different. He was at one end of the couch, baby in one hand, Stephen King in the other, while Robin played with his building blocks—which were spread everywhere—in the middle of the living room.
“…me alone, you bastard!” Jeff’s voice trickled downstairs; he sounded utterly furious.
“Hey, Robin, you wanna tell me about what you’re building?” Donny gave the boy a smile and patted the space next to him. Hopefully if Robin was talking and distracted, he wouldn’t hear Jeff.
“Momma’s house.”
“…anymore.” Something upstairs shattered. Oh man. It did not sound like things were getting any better with Jeff’s phone call.
“It looks like a great house. How many rooms does it have?”
“Momma’s room. Kim’s room. My room. Bathroom.”
“Is there a kitchen?” He just needed to keep Robin occupied.
“No. Daddy Jeff’s house has a kitchen.”
Jeff came down the stairs, face like a thundercloud.
“Didn’t Momma’s house have a kitchen?” He asked Robin the question, but he gazed at Jeff, let his eyebrows go up.
Jeff almost looked like he was going to cry.
“Nope.”
Jeff shook his head. “It did too. It was yellow.”
“Why don’t you see if you can remember and can build it? I’m going to go to the kitchen and get Daddy Jeff a cup of coffee, okay?” He kissed the top of Robin’s head and stood, Kimmie still sleeping in his arms. He nodded toward the kitchen.
Jeff followed him, heading right for the back door, where he leaned his head on the screen. “That motherfucker.”
“The ex?” It was Donny’s best guess.
“He wants the house. My house!”
“Wow. That’s…. Can he do that?” What an utter fuckwad. Why had a nice guy like Jeff been with him?
“No. No, but he can bluster and bitch and threaten to sue and piss me off.” Jeff sighed. “He’s claiming this was our house. I designed it. I built it. I paid for it.”
“I thought he broke up with you? Isn’t it the breakupee who’s supposed to be an asshat?”
“Yeah.” Jeff sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate waking up to that sh—stuff.”
“I bet. Is there anyone you need to call? Like a lawyer or someone?”
“I’ll talk to Cathy later. Right now, I want my coffee and to believe that the day’s getting better.” Jeff winked at him, and that warm smile hit him balls deep. “How are you, Donny?”
He found himself smiling back at Jeff, caught in those lovely eyes. “Hmm?”
“Having a good day? Have you guys eaten breakfast?”
“We are. We had Cheerios and then quiet time in the living room.”
“Would you like bacon sandwiches?”
“Really?” He all but drooled, only this time over the food. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll make some.” Jeff started moving, then stopped, came over, and kissed Kimmie’s little head. “Morning, sweet baby,” he whispered.
Donny felt his heart melt a little bit, and he had to stop himself from taking a kiss of his own. He was going to have to quit noticing how handsome Jeff was before he got in real trouble. Long-term heartbreak trouble.
“I should check on Robin.”
“Okay, I’ll start bacon.” Jeff smiled at him, the look simply breathtaking.
He smiled back, caught there for another moment before he shook himself, hard, and went to check on Robin, Kimmie still asleep in his arms.
Robin was busily building either a dinosaur, a semi truck, or an elephant. It was hard to tell. He watched for a moment, enjoying the happy kid; this was why he had to resist falling for Jeff, because then he’d have to leave, and he didn’t want to leave these kids.
Robin looked up, grinned. “A twuck.”
Oh, he’d been right. Go him. “I thought so. It looks good.”
The little boy beamed at him, then bent back to his work, at least unt
il the scent of frying bacon hit the air.
Grinning, Donny held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go see if Daddy needs any help.”
Robin took his fingers and grinned. “Daddy Jeff! I help!”
Jeff’s laughter trickled in. “I have a bowl of grapes on the table for you to pull off the stems.”
Donny had to admit, the man learned quickly.
They joined Jeff in the kitchen, and Donny started to prepare a bottle for Kimberley, who was beginning to make her wake-up faces.
It looked like Jeff had recovered, the smells of brunch delicious.
“I’m going to get fat,” Donny announced as he took the bottle of formula out of the microwave.
“Nonsense. This is good, honest food.”
He laughed, and that was what woke Kimmie up, her little face screwing up immediately to scream. “Hey, sweetie, none of that.” He jogged her in his arm and tested the temperature on the bottle.
Before scream number two, he popped the bottle in her mouth, and Robin looked up from the grapes. “She’s a stupid, loud baby. You should give her back.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, really hard, to keep from laughing. “I know she doesn’t seem to do much but cry and poop and sleep right now, but soon you’ll have someone to play with.”
Jeff nodded. “Besides, she needs you to be her big brother. You’re the only big brother she’ll ever have.”
“I wish I’d had a big brother like you.” Donny sat next to Robin. “Can I have a grape?”
“Yes.” Robin picked out one for him, and he ate it.
“Yum. That was a good one.” It was all so domestic. Donny loved it.
Jeff leaned over his shoulder, chest solid and hot against him. “Me too.”
Oh man. That felt good. For half a moment, he leaned back against Jeff. Robin popped a grape into Jeff’s lips, and then that heat faded, a touch to the side of his neck making him shiver.
Okay, he had to get control of himself here. He was just the nanny. That was all. Just an employee.
“Do you want mayo with your sandwich, Don?”
“No, thanks.” He’d take the hunk of a chef cooking it, though. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself; that was not remembering he was just an employee.