“Oh, I’ll be sure to do that.” She walked him out to the garage, waited while he unlocked his car, then called her typical warning of, “No texting and driving!” as he started to slide behind the steering wheel. He gave the customary wave of acknowledgment and closed the door behind him. A minute later, he was gone.
After cleaning up dinner and storing the leftover pizza—good for lunch tomorrow—she tidied up and turned off all the lights downstairs and headed up. Following the sound of the low male voice, she pushed open the door to the new nursery and found Clay pacing the floor with Stanley still on his shoulder. The child looked to be sound asleep, but she knew looks could be deceiving.
Clay’s voice murmured, half talking, half singing, as he went through all the things he would do for his nephew if the bough of that tree should dare to break. He went a little off course at one point, giving a few verses she was sure he made up on the spot out of necessity, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless.
At one point, he spotted her, gave her a small nod, but continued to pace in the dark room. She’d added a nightlight during their shopping excursion, but it wasn’t enough to see his expression.
Was he feeling that sort of warm comfort she always did when she’d had a peacefully sleeping Isaac on her chest? The sort of feeling you could only get from the beautiful, trusting weight of a child? Was he feeling grief for the loss of his sister and this close connection to her? Some mixture of both, swirling inside him, warring for which one he would feel at any given moment?
The realization of how torn up inside he must be saddened her. But more, made her respect how amazingly controlled he was. How he never let it show in front of Stanley. Never took it out on his nephew, or her, or anyone else.
Made her fall that much more in love with the man. And she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. The idea that she had left early motherhood behind was dust. Yes, she adored Stanley and knew she would grow to love him. But it was love of the uncle, the man who held that precious weight so perfectly in his big hands that made her positive this was the right thing for her. The right step.
Now wasn’t the time to tell him though. Not when he was still grieving, so fresh. Not when he would continually have to pour salt in that open wound by taking care of the technicalities, the practicalities, the inevitabilities that death left for the living. Funeral arrangements, estate decisions, the heavy and arduous task of officially adopting his nephew.
The feelings could wait. They could hold for now. She knew, deep in her heart, the love wasn’t going anywhere.
And now, neither was she.
The rest of the evening passed calmly. With Stan down for the night, and actually staying asleep, thank God, Kristen leaned heavily on Clay while they watched the evening news in bed. Well, he watched. Her eyes drooped so hard they felt like sandbags attached.
And when Clay’s hand came up to absently stroke at her hair, she let them close entirely, content to simply listen to the newscasters and their doom-and-gloom report.
“I have phone calls to make tomorrow,” Clay said during a commercial break.
Well, that woke her up. She struggled to a sitting position. “Do you want to split them up? I can take a few of the less...personal ones.”
“No, I’m fine. Actually, I was thinking you could go in to work tomorrow if you wanted.”
He wouldn’t look her in the eye. She wondered... “I took the rest of the week off, remember? Not that I couldn’t go in, but wouldn’t it be easier to have someone around to help with Stanley while you’re on the phone?”
He seemed to think about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I’ll stay. Do some grocery shopping. Stanley can come with me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“They give out free cookies to cute kids in the bakery section of the grocery store.” She went on like he hadn’t started to protest. “And then I was thinking I could take him to the park. It might be good to find out what kind of kid Stanley is.”
“What kind of kid?” Clay asked.
“Yeah. Is he a slide guy or a swings man? These are important details,” she said with a smile. “And he might see a kid or two his age to play with on a blanket. He’s close to walking. I’m guessing it will just take seeing another few kids his size giving it a go and he’ll be off. The open atmosphere would be good for him.”
“So this is all for Stanley’s benefit,” he stated in a disbelieving tone.
No, you silly man. It’s because you don’t want me in the house while you make personal phone calls about your sister. Because—I suspect—you’re afraid you won’t be able to hold it together and don’t want witnesses.
“Yup. Totally for Stanley’s benefit. And mine. I always did like taking Isaac to the park. Since he won’t be home tomorrow, I might even take the little guy home with me and do some laundry. It’s always best to rip Isaac’s room apart looking for dirty laundry when he’s not there to protest.”
Clay’s eyes were a little widened, as if he were trying to make notes and struggling to keep up. “Uh, okay. Sure. Fine.”
With that settled, she patted his leg and lay back down. Sexy times would have to wait, that was for sure. After a few more minutes of the quiet drone of the news and Clay’s hand on her head, she felt a warm weight settle beside her stomach. Since Clay hadn’t budged an inch, she cracked one eye open in curiosity.
And found herself staring straight at a large tomcat with a look on its face that asked, What the fuck are you looking at, lady?
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Clay, there’s a cat on the bed.”
“That’s Satan,” he said, his voice low.
“I’m sorry, you know this thing?”
“It’s mine.”
“You have a cat? Since when?”
“Like, three years ago? Do you want to see the adoption papers?”
“I’m just curious why this is the first I’ve seen of the cat since I’ve been here.”
Clay chuckled. “That’s Satan’s secret to keep. He’s nervous around strangers. Add in Stanley’s high-pitched babbling, and he hasn’t been very active. I could have sworn I told you about him.”
“Nope.” When the tom stretched and kneaded at Kristen’s stomach, as if attempting to make more room for himself, she started to reach out to pet the cat. The cat’s low growl—cats could growl?—had her rethinking that decision.
“Yeah, no. I wouldn’t do that. Satan isn’t actually a nickname. It’s his given name, with good cause. Just let him hang out until he decides we’re boring and he’ll go sleep elsewhere.”
She gave the cat a narrowed look. “Don’t you dare shed on me.”
The cat merely flicked his tail in a fuck off gesture and rolled over. When she found that amusing, rather than insulting, Kristen knew it was over for her. She was exhausted. And something told her she might have another night of waking up with Stanley. Better get the sleep while she could.
Cat at her front and Clay behind her, she dropped off.
Chapter 18
Clay came downstairs from the bedroom the next afternoon to find Stanley watching a show on TV from the comfort of his Pack ‘n Play. Kristen, it appeared, was passed out on the couch. Was that allowed? Were parents and caregivers allowed to sleep while the kid was awake? He was penned in, but…
What the hell did Clay know?
He went to the kitchen, found the coffeepot empty—and he’d only had one cup—and frowned while he made another. She’d had that much coffee and still fallen asleep during a cartoon movie with singing?
Maybe it had gone bad. She’d just dumped it out. Then he counted the coffee mugs in the sink, not including the one he’d brought down with him. Four. He winced. Then winced again when he realized both breakfast and lunch messes were still present. She wasn’t the tidiest of people, but he’d yet to see her not clean up after a meal at his house.
Something was going on.
He carried his s
econd cup of coffee for the day into the living room. Stanley squealed and pulled himself up on the edge of the little child prison he sat in, banging his palms down on the sides for emphasis. Kristen jolted awake, sitting up quickly. Her eyes roamed the room until she found Stanley not five feet from her. Clay watched while a sigh of relief left her body. Then she saw him and flushed.
“I, uh... Yeah, you know what? No excuse, I totally fell asleep. I just laid down to get comfortable and I was out. Must have only been a few minutes. Seriously, couldn’t have been more than five.” She reached in to pick the boy up and give him some freedom again. Stanley pulled himself over to the coffee table and began patting the top.
“I’m not mad, Kristen.” He shook his head, worried about how panicked she looked. “How was the park? Laundry at home?”
“We didn’t make it either place. The grocery store took more out of me than I thought it would. So we’ve spent the rest of the time reading and watching movies down here. Trying to stay out of your way.” She sounded sheepish.
When he sat beside her, she vibrated with something. Nerves? Energy? Running a hand down her back, he silently willed her to calm down. “Kristen, how much coffee have you had so far?”
She gave him a sideways glance, then shrugged. “Some. It’s my morning drink, like practically every other American. What does it matter?”
“In all the times I’ve seen you in the morning, you’ve been a one-cup kind of girl. I saw four mugs in the sink. Just curious if they were all yours.”
“No, one was Stanley’s,” she bit out, then sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I get cranky when I’m tired. Today, of all days, you don’t need that junk from me.”
He set his mug of coffee on the side table and began massaging her shoulders. She moaned and let her head drop down in instant compliance. “Why so tired? Is it the mattress? Me? Am I too restless? Wait, let me guess. I snore, don’t I?”
“No. I mean, yes you do snore,” she added with a small smile. But her eyes were closed. “It’s not you. It’s...nothing. Forget it. Just a bad night’s sleep.”
“You were dead on your feet before ten last night. Two separate nights spent over at my place, and two nights you haven’t slept well. I’m thinking there’s a connection. I can get a different mattress.”
“It’s not the mattress, Clay.”
“So what is it?”
She bit the corner of her lip, then shook her head. “Nothing. It’s fine. Stanley, no, no.” She reached out and took one of his exercise magazines from the child’s hands. “These are Uncle Clay’s. Not Stanley’s. This is Stanley’s.” She handed him a cloth book.
“It was Stanley, wasn’t it? Did he wake up? How did I not hear that?”
“Men never do, from my understanding. Evolution has not been kind to mothers.” Kristen gave him a weak smile. “That’s a joke. The monitor was on my side of the bed. I heard him fussing and went in to sit with him last night.”
Clay waited a beat, then guessed, “And the night before?”
She lifted one hand, let it fall again in silent agreement.
“Kristen, he’s my nephew. Why wouldn’t you wake me up and make me get him?”
She turned to face him fully now, her eyes like heavy weights. “You have so much on your plate right now. How could I possibly ask you to do that? I’ve done this song and dance before. Though I was a little younger,” she added on a mutter. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m here to help, and this is me helping.”
“Helping isn’t running yourself into exhaustion. Kristen.” He kissed her lightly, and she swayed into him as if struggling to stay vertical. “Sweetheart. Go upstairs and take a nap. Please. I need a break from phone calls anyway. Stanley and I will finish up watching this, then we’ll entertain ourselves.”
She looked between him and Stanley with skepticism.
“I’ve got it. I appreciate your wanting to help, but now you need to help yourself. Go upstairs and nap. Please,” he added when she hesitated. “I need you to be okay.”
“I’ll go lie down,” she said as if that were compromise. “But if you need something—”
“I’ll let you know.” Like hell I will. He watched as she struggled to stand, then walked out of the room. A minute later, the door to the bedroom closed, and he sighed. “Stanley,” he said in his most stern voice, “you’ve got to let her sleep at night.”
Stanley simply smiled and used the coffee table to walk his way over to his uncle.
“One of these days, you’ll walk on your own.” He smiled at the young boy as he gripped Clay’s knee and shuffled over. “And I’ll wish like hell your mom was here to see it.”
He pulled Stanley up to the couch to sit with him, and they watched Big Bird, Bert, and Ernie debate what was healthier, an eggplant or a slice of cake.
But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop seeing Kristen, exhausted and ready to drop. And wondering if this had been what she’d meant when she said she couldn’t fathom doing the whole motherhood thing over again from scratch.
And how fair he was being, letting her step in to do just that.
Kristen stood by the car, sighing. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. The baseball team is fine. I wasn’t even planning on going myself to practice tonight.”
“So Stanley and I will go ourselves.” Clay shrugged as he tossed his mitt in the trunk. “I want to get out of the house and go be active. It’s not a big deal. Besides, you said yourself it was good for Stanley to get out of the house too.”
“And who will watch Stanley while you’re off being active?” When he paused in the act of putting his bat more gently in the trunk, she knew she had him. “Clay, you can’t do it all. That’s part of parenting, understanding that really hard fact.”
“I’m not trying to do it all. I just want to go to one lousy baseball practice so I can talk to Anton, apologize, tell the boys...” His voice strangled, and when he turned to give her his back, she felt like a bitch.
“Okay. All right.” Rubbing a hand over his shoulder, she didn’t walk around to face him. Instead, she gave him a minute to compose himself. The male pride and all that. “We’ll go together. I don’t mind,” she added when he hitched his breath and turned to argue. “Like I’ve said before, this is the last summer with my son while I still have him under my thumb. We’ll go I’ll keep Stanley on the bleachers. I’m sure Sienna will help me out.”
Clay nodded slowly, then cupped her chin and brought her in for a kiss. “Thank you. I’m not making a habit of this, I promise.”
“I didn’t ask for a promise. You love coaching. The boys enjoyed having you. There’s no reason to deny either of you for right now. Let’s go. The boys have a tournament this weekend, and it’s for sure going to be a tough one. They’ll need all the practice they can get.”
When they arrived at the baseball field, she saw Isaac pull in behind Dillon. They both got out of their cars, moving a little sluggishly, and she knew they’d wasted a lot of energy on their outing earlier that day.
“Isaac,” she called, hitching Stanley a little higher on her hip. Clay pulled out Stanley’s diaper bag and helped her adjust it on her other shoulder. Then he kissed her cheek and headed for the diamond.
Isaac strolled over, looking a little sunburned and a lot happy. “Hey, Mom. Coming home tonight?”
“Um, maybe.” Guilt over leaving Isaac home alone again and anxiety from abandoning Clay and Stanley warred in her stomach.
Almost as if sensing her dilemma, Isaac smiled and reached out a finger to poke Stan in the belly. “Hey, little man. Can I hold him?”
She waited for her son to shift his bat bag to his other shoulder, then reach out for the toddler. He laughed when Stanley began patting his cheeks. “How about I hang out at Coach’s house tonight? I could sleep on the couch.”
“Isaac, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering. Plus, l
et me tell you how much extra awesomeness points that gets me with my friends. Hanging out with a Bobcats coach.” He grinned and began walking toward the field. At one point, he slid his baseball hat onto Stanley’s head. The hat engulfed the younger boy’s face, and he batted at the cap. Her son chuckled and bounced the boy to make him laugh more.
They’re so adorable together.
And...stop that.
Kristen walked behind them, then took Stanley back—sans hat, which upset the child—when it was time for Isaac to head to the dugout for practice. To make it up to him, Kristen dug in the diaper bag for a toy and handed him a teething ring. That seemed to work, and she sat down on the bottom row of bleachers in relief.
“Here’s a new addition to the fan club.” Sienna sat beside her, all smiles, and cooed for the baby. “How’s everything going? This is Coach Barnes’s nephew, I assume?”
“No, I just found him in the parking lot. But he was so cute I decided to keep him.” She smiled when Sienna laughed. “Yes, this is Stanley. Or Stan, if you’re feeling so inclined. He’s almost fourteen months old.”
“Fourteen months,” Sienna said with obvious added excitement for Stanley’s benefit. “What a big boy. Can I hold you? Would that be okay with your...uh, with your friend Kristen?”
Kristen inwardly winced, unsure how to put that too. Clay was his uncle, and she had no clue how he would be choosing to address himself in the future. At the current moment, however, he had a name. But what was she to Stanley? Aunt Kristen, if they were married...
But they weren’t. She had no clue what they were anymore. She’d asked for space and time to think, and then Amanda had died... Space wasn’t what she truly wanted, but neither were children. But Stanley was here, and Clay would never give him up. Nor should he, nor would she want him to. Leaving him now seemed cruel. But starting over, even at fourteen months...
And she had to change the mental subject, or she’d totally lose it going down that rabbit hole.
Stanley seemed content with Sienna—thank God—and she got to watch as Clay addressed the boys. They were too far away for her to hear what he had to say, but every so often one of the boys would turn and look toward the bleachers. Looking for Stanley, most likely. The team was old enough though; she knew they would understand what he was saying. They’d be upset to lose a coach they enjoyed, but they wouldn’t hold it against him. They were, all in all, a really good group of boys.
Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 16