by Zoey Parker
I totally appreciated that. He was super easy on the eyes.
The rest of the night, we didn’t even talk about it—we just allowed ourselves to be. He had a couple beers, I took care of Peter when he woke again; it was like we were a normal couple. Which we weren’t, but kind of, we were.
We had just agreed to marry, so—even though it was for convenience sake, and would be a temporary thing—the sex had seemed like a natural and normal thing to do, to seal the deal. Not to mention, we had obviously both been dying for it. Our chemistry was off the charts. Bonus!
In any case, our bodies were finally sated after too many days of being on high alert around one another. Well, sated might have been too strong a word. Because having had him once, I wanted him more. But I was also really just happy with what I got. I felt really, really good.
He disappeared into his bedroom for a while to get started with the broken glass, and maybe a half hour later someone had pulled up in a pickup with a huge board of wood to cover the window from the outside until it could be replaced.
I cooked up one of my favorite easy meals for dinner. After boarding up the window, his buddy had left, and we ate together, talking of how best to deal with the glass on the bed. Jack decided he was going to buy new bedding; there were too many shards all around for him to be comfortable with sleeping on and amongst them. I fully supported this decision. The thought of all those slivers was disturbing.
He didn’t want to leave me home alone again with Peter, even though I told him we couldn’t stop our lives because Brian was an asshole. Regardless, after dinner the three of us piled into his shiny manly pickup and we went to one of those huge home stores for new bedding—like a family—which was funny and weird, and definitely fun. We kept cracking up. It felt good and right, too—which in itself, was probably not so great.
I had to be careful not to get too comfortable with having Jack in my and Peter’s lives. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t a for-real or a forever thing.
I didn’t want Jack sleeping in that room until it had been thoroughly vetted in daylight for all shards in the carpeting and any that might be hanging around the bed, and I found it fairly easy to convince him to sleep with me on the air mattress for the night. It was just a size double, so we were forced to be close, which I had no problem with, although his feet were hanging off the bottom of the bed. He laid on his back, and I curled up to his side, draped over him, with my face pillowed on his shoulder. Every breath I took was deliciously filled with his scent, and I kind of blissed out on it quickly.
But in short time, his scent and skin and feel had my body turning on hot, which was problematic for me. I was concerned about getting too much into this sex thing with him, without being clear about what we were doing together. I definitely felt like we should talk—that phrase dreaded by every man ever born. So I didn’t want to say it, but I thought it.
“Hey, where are you? You suddenly got really tense. What’s up?”
“Oh. Yeah. Um, you probably…no, you know what? Can we just sleep tonight? It’s kind of been a big day.”
He chuckled. “Understatement of the year. Yeah, babe. You comfortable enough? This bed is damned small. I think it was made for…”
“Lilliputians. Exactly, Gulliver.” We smiled at each other, and I kissed the side of his neck. “Good night, Jack.”
“’Night, El.”
# # #
I floated through the next day like it was made of creampuffs. I felt delicious, and I kept catching myself smiling at nothing.
Peter still wasn’t sleeping through the night, so I had been up and down a couple of times, as per my norm with him. Jack seemed to sleep right through, the lucky jerk, but his body just curled around me each time I reentered the bed zone, as if spooning together was our long-time habit.
In the morning, I must have slept through Jack’s awakening and departure, because I woke up to my baby crying and an otherwise empty house. Within minutes though, Jack came in through the front door loaded down with stuff. He set a paper bag and a carry-tray with two coffees on the kitchen counter, plucked out one coffee and nodded at me. “Coffee, bagels, cream cheese. OJ in the bag is yours, too.” He then headed to me, kissed the top of my head, which was still rather foggy, and the top of Peter’s head, then headed to the front door again. “I’m gonna be right outside for a while, not going anywhere yet. Don’t worry.”
“Um…I don’t…mnaaa…’wake ’nough to worry. But good to know.”
He looked up with a smile and watched me stand there in my daze, and he laughed at me. Right in my own face.
Whatever. I was not processing yet. Let him laugh.
“Ellie, turn around. Go into the kitchen. Grab a coffee. Sit down. Drink the coffee. I’m right outside.”
I recognized wisdom, and did what he suggested.
He was banging around the outside of the house for the better portion of the morning, and at some point I wandered out to see just what he was up to. Turned out, he was installing a security system, complete with a bunch of cameras, movement sensors, an alarm box, and a couple of panic buttons for easy access in multiple rooms.
The man was thorough and action-oriented. It kind of turned me on even more. How did he keep doing this to me, ramping up the vibe? He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, it was just him.
I began to think I was in way over my head with him; his very being was an aphrodisiac to me. I would have to tread carefully from here on. Peter needed his uncle through his whole life, not just these first six months. I had to get my head clear. Immediately.
Jack finished installing the system around lunchtime, and he toured me through all aspects of the system and the codes for activation, et cetera. It wasn’t rocket science, so I had it down quickly. He praised my aptitude with, “Sharp cookie. I like it.”
I smirked at him with the rejoinder, “As a tack, sweets. I got good genes.”
He purposefully misunderstood my comment and, leaning to the side, checked out my denim-covered butt. “Yeah, you do. Nice ass, too.”
I swatted his arm and laughingly danced away from him. He was too magnetic for my own good.
After lunch, sure that I was now ensconced in a safe-as-it-could-be zone, Jack took off for the shop, so I was on my own with Peter until night. Making sure the baby was clean, fed, breathing well, of good color, and tired out, I laid down myself to catch some much-needed z’s. I never seemed to get enough, and it was a daily test to see how many little naps I could score. After yesterday’s crazy scary and crazy incredibly awesome events, I was dealing with emotional exhaustion, too.
I was gone in two seconds, flat.
Chapter 11
Jack
“Yo ho ho, he’s baaaack!” Ah, the sweet trills of Trini’s voice clanged in my ears.
“Watch it, Treens. I sign your checks.”
“No you don’t. I have direct deposit.”
I side-eyed her, and continued to the back of the shop.
“Jack-o, check this out.” I redirected to Grath’s station to see his latest masterpiece, a full-sleeve free-hander of spiral-wrapped text in some seriously old-school font. I couldn’t make it out for my life.
“What is that?”
The happy but pain-dazed client garbled, “‘To be, or not to be…’ in secretary han’. Izin it fabuloush?’” It was fabulous, but her own speech wasn’t.
“Nice work, man.” And I tipped my chin to Grath, who tipped his back at me and continued wiping her arm down.
Finally, I got back to my desk, and collapsed into it.
What a fucking crazy twenty-four hours: the fire-drill, the rock, the Brian story, the Peter story, the crazy grandmother trust fund, the marriage thing, and the sex. I couldn’t decide which I should be thinking about more. I wanted to focus only on the sex—by far the best part. By far. But the other issues, they each warranted some heavy-duty mind time.
I figured, first things first. Peter, the most vulnerable individua
l on the spectrum, had to come first. The test results were due to be available online at any time now. It had been more than a week since we sent them in, so I pulled up the website to check again.
Bingo! They were there. I clicked on the link and held my breath, praying they came out positive. I was actually nervous about it—my palms were a little sweaty—so I was glad to be doing this alone. Sure, maybe I should have waited so Ellie could see them, too, but this really wasn’t about her so much as it was just about me and Peter. And Keith. I needed to do this alone.
When the page opened, it was filled with graphs and metrics, and it took me a few minutes to comprehend what it was saying. Finally, though, I got it. Over 99% likelihood of avuncular relation. That was as close to certain as they could get.
I was Peter’s uncle. Peter was my brother’s son. I had Keith’s son—in my home, in my life. My eyes burned and felt a little wet, and I rubbed them down until the dust particles cleared out. I must have been just starting to fight a cold, too, ’cause I had to blow my nose a couple of times. Wow. I was an uncle. For real.
I suddenly knew how the Grinch felt on that hill, when his heart grew however many times bigger in a flash. It was all I could do to not go running back up to the front of the shop and jump up and down and run in circles and yell out my excitement.
But I was cool. I got it together. I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t stand still. So I took off through the shop, filled with so much emotion I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, and made it outside without interruption. I started walking down the sidewalk, just to burn some energy, try to get my head straight again, when Grath caught up to me. He put a hand on my shoulder from behind, and I whipped around, backing up, needing space from everyone and everything.
He knew me well, and only put his hands in the air, like he was calming down some feral beast. Which, I guessed, I was.
“Whoa, dude. Chill. What’s up? What just happened?”
I took a few deep breaths. “I’m an uncle. Peter’s mine. No—Peter’s Keith’s son, man. Peter’s Keith’s son. I got Keith back. Peter’s mine.”
Grath’s eyes grew about twice as big, and a smile spread wide on his face, and he grabbed me in a bear hug I had no idea I needed. I felt awesome. As close to what I could guess a new daddy might feel. I felt incredible. I allowed the hug for a moment, then pounded his and backed up.
“Congratulations, man! Uncle Jack! We need cigars, man. So it’s official. Keith has a baby. You got Keith’s baby. That’s fucking beautiful.”
“Yeah. Right? It is. It’s fucking incredible.” I was still wrapping my head around it.
“It’s amazing. And you know for sure? How does that work?”
“Took a test last week, sent it into a lab, results posted online. Just saw ’em, right now. More than ninety-nine percent positive match between us. As sure as they can get.”
“Wow. That’s…I don’t even know what. Awesome.”
“It is.” I was nodding and smiling at him. “It is awesome.” And we laughed.
“You gotta go home, man. What are you doing here? Today, you just found out, you gotta go home. Spend the day with your nephew, and his mama.” He side-eyed me with a smirk. “I know that’ll be really tough on you. Painfully hard.” And he laughed at his own fucking joke.
I punched his arm, none too gently, and agreed. I should spend the rest of the day getting to know Peter better. Even though they’d been living in my house for over a week, and Ellie and I already planned to get married—soon, I reminded myself—I still had not really allowed myself to believe that Peter was Keith’s. I had wanted to, but at the same time I didn’t. Like, it was too much to hope for.
But now it was real. It was true. And I wanted to hold him in my hands, to feel his weight, and his little body warmth. I needed to connect with him. Priority one. Everything else, for the moment, fell away.
Chapter 12
Ellie
I heard Jack’s bike pull up the drive just as I was settling down with Peter for a feeding. I had him on the big nursing pillow, and I wasn’t well covered-up, but by this time, I had no modesty about it in front of Jack. He obviously enjoyed getting the eyeful, and I’m not sure how much of that was his liking to see my exposed breasts or watching the beauty that is a baby feeding from his mother. I didn’t really care, to be honest. I knew it to be a beautiful thing, and I was glad that Jack appreciated it, too.
What was strange was that Jack would be back so early in the day. So when I heard the door open, I called out, “What did you forget?”
“Nothing. Where are you?” And he immediately saw me on the couch, and pulled up short, looking at me and Peter in a kind of wonder. I raised my brow at him, but he seemed not to notice.
After a couple of moments of nothing, I asked, “Jack? You all right? Did something happen?”
His eyes met mine, and he seemed to snap back into the now. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m great. I’m…” He choked up, and his eyes got watery.
And I got worried. What in the world could make this man tear up? It was something bad. “Jack? Don’t scare me like this. What happened?”
“Nothing, babe. I’m fine. Just…goddamn it…something in my eye.” He rubbed at his face. Finally, he came into the room and joined us on the couch.
“Got some news today. I checked the test, online. Results were up. Positive. We’re a match. Peter… Peter’s my nephew. Keith’s son. For sure. He’s mine.”
Now my eyes welled up, realizing what a big moment this was for Jack, for Peter, and for myself. But mostly, really, it was about Jack. And Keith. It was huge.
I had known this to be true, and I’d hoped Jack would be moved by it, too.
For a moment, I felt awkward. Keith was back in the room, in a way that made me a little bit uncomfortable. I had, after all, slept with both brothers. Gah! This was such a weird situation. What a freaking mess.
But at the same time, it was kind of perfect. It was the best possible outcome, given the worst of circumstances with regard to Keith’s fatherhood of Peter and his far-too-early death.
Of course, I never had any doubt that the test results would show a positive match, but it was an amazing load off that the question had been answered for Jack, and that he could now fully accept Peter into his life.
I now totally understood the tears that Jack had tried to hide. He was such a stereotypical badass—and such a beautiful man. I wanted to jump in his lap and just hug him for ages.
Jack, too, clearly needed to close the gap between himself and Peter. He leaned into us, putting his hand on the outside of Peter’s head, stroking his soft cranium and cheek gently and with awe.
“He’s really Keith’s son. This is my brother’s blood.” He lost words, and just gazed at the baby, who by this time was fighting the food coma, slipping between sleep and suck modes at random intervals. I figured he’d probably had enough by now, so I handed Jack a baby cloth to drape over his shoulder and said, “Petey, your uncle is going to burp you now, honey.” And I smiled at Jack as he froze in horror, all deer-in-headlights. I had to bite my tongue to hold in my laughter.
“I don’t…I can’t…Whaaa—“
“Oh, come on, Jack. You’ve watched me do this a thousand times by now. It’s not that hard. Just pat on his back kinda softly but firmly, so the air bubbles in his belly come out.”
“Yeah, but he always gets sick. It can’t be good for him.”
“He just loses some of the food with it. It doesn’t hurt him. And it’s only milk. You’ll be fine.”
I firmly placed the baby on his shoulder and walked away toward my room, purposefully not watching as Jack figured it out. I didn’t want to cave in to anybody’s pleading eyes—truth is, I was thrilled to finally have someone who might share some of the baby-care responsibilities.
I loved my baby, to the core of my being and beyond anything in this world, but it was exhausting being a single mommy to a newborn with medical issues. I’m sure it was exhausting fo
r every mommy, but I only knew my own experience, and I was so ready for an extra set of eyes and hands to help out.
I just prayed that Jack would be as good as his word, and really stay on board. I knew he could opt out whenever he wanted; he was only Peter’s uncle, not his father. Still, I wanted Jack to be a constant, actively-engaged father figure to my son. I really wanted that for Peter. That was my ideal dream, the thing I would do just about anything to give to him. And I wanted my son to know him, to grow up with that example, and in the circle of Jack’s family, whoever else they might be.
Several minutes had passed by now, and I didn’t hear anything from the living room, so I poked my head out to see what they were up to. Jack was lying back on the couch, holding Peter by his sides sitting on top of his chest. Jack was making some rumbly noises and funny faces, and Peter was watching his face closely, sometimes reaching out a little hand to try to grab at Jack’s chin or nose or lips. They were beautiful together, and I found myself tearing up again.