by B. Cranford
The sight of her boyfriend—her best friend—with a tiny human in his arms was doing odd things to her.
Heart racing. Palms sweating. Panties soaking.
Ovaries exploding.
“Yeah, let me—”
“I’ve got her,” Andrew said, standing and taking his daughter from Austin, making Odie admit that it wasn’t just the sight of Austin with little Kennedy that made her body react.
Apparently, she was a hussy for handsome men holding babies.
Good thing she’d only caught the tail-end of Simon’s turn with Kennedy, or she’d have been a goner.
And the explosion of her lady parts would have taken half the maternity ward along with her.
Crisis averted.
Walking out into the hallway just outside Ashton’s room, she turned to Austin and waited for him to close the door behind them. Then, she stood in the circle of his arms, kind of amazed by all that had happened that day.
The baby.
Spending time with Finn, just the thought of which made her smile.
“Are we welated?” Finn asked, his hand tucked into Odie’s, his four-year-old cautiousness meeting with curiosity. He’d been a little shy at first when Aaron had introduced her to him outside the hospital, but when she’d said she’d take him for ice cream, the nervousness seemed to fade away.
Apparently, sweets surpassed shyness. Good to know.
“Not technically, no.” She wasn’t sure how to explain it, not knowing how limited or vast Finn’s knowledge of family and relationships was.
“Aawon says you don’t have to be welated to be family.” He nodded, like he agreed with the statement, and Odie thought her heart might beat right out of her chest.
Here was a boy who’d lost his mom, been used as a pawn by his father—not that the asshole deserved that title, from the little she knew about the situation—and then moved to a new place, and he was so calm. So happy to accept that family came in all shapes and sizes and colors.
“Your Uncle Aaron is really smart,” Odie replied, giving the little hand within her own a squeeze. “So we aren’t related, but we are family.”
“’Cause you love Ozsin?”
Crouching down in front of him, making sure her eyes never left his—those bright, curious brown orbs looking at her like she had all the answers—she told him her truth. “Yes, because I love Austin. And Aaron and Simon. I love our whole family.”
He nodded again, thoughtfully. “Me too.”
“Everything okay? You didn’t get to hold Kennedy yet.” Austin’s arms tightened around her, bringing her body in closer and causing a flush of heat to shoot through her.
Between the adorable children, handsome men with said adorable children, and Aussie’s arms pressing them together, it would be a miracle if she left this hospital without falling pregnant or stealing a baby herself.
“I’m good, I’m . . . really good. Finn was fun,” she added, laughing at her alliteration and near-rhyme. “I wanted to let you know that I called Mom and Dad, and they said not to worry about coming today, either of us.”
“Were they okay about it?”
“Yeah, they asked for pictures to be sent, and then promised to bring back gifts from their trip, so I think they’re fine.” Her parents hadn’t been fazed in the slightest when she’d said she wasn’t going to make it to dinner with Austin. How she got so lucky with them when she knew that the Andrews’ siblings still struggled with their own disappointing parents was beyond her.
All she knew was that Karen and Mark Peterson were the best kind of parents.
And not just because they traveled extensively and brought home presents that were out of this world.
Well, out of this country, technically.
Semantics, she thought, snickering. After that night in the bar with Austin and his brother and sister, she didn’t think she’d ever hear that word again without laughing.
“Nice, I love presents.”
“I think they meant for the baby, but okay.”
Austin’s face crumpled in an excellent approximation of a child about to tantrum all over the place, but before her overly-dramatic man could launch into something ridiculous, she kissed him.
She’d really tried to wait, but to no avail.
They stood in the hallway, making out and making jokes, laughing with each other between presses of their lips together, until Aaron stepped out of the room behind them.
“Come on, you two. The maternity ward is for what happens after you make the baby. Not during.”
Odie broke the kiss and pressed her face into Austin’s chest, while he reached out and landed a punch on his brother’s biceps.
“Careful, any day now puberty will hit and that might actually hurt me,” Aaron teased, rubbing his arm gently all the same. Evidently it had hurt—even if only a little. “Are you two coming back in or leaving and coming somewhere else?”
“Haha, we’re coming back in, I think. Odie?” Austin looked down at her, so she nodded, excited to hold the baby but a little sad their moment had been interrupted.
“Si and Finn and I are going to head out in a second. He’s worn out,” Aaron said, holding a hand around waist height, as if to indict Finn’s person.
Austin winked down at her before he turned his attention back to his brother. “Oh, poor Simon. Getting old killing his stamina, huh?”
“I’ll have you know his stamina is—”
“All right, I know, I know. I walked into that one.” He shook his head, adding, “We’ll be in, in a sec.”
Aaron nodded and turned to head back into the hospital room, as Odie tried to extricate herself from Austin’s arms.
“Where are you going, Garfield?”
“Ah, back into the room?” She left off the duh, only because he’d had an early, surprising start to his morning.
“Not yet, something I want to tell you.”
She cocked her head, wondering what he could be talking about. He didn’t leave her waiting long—but he did kind of leave her a little shell-shocked and once more in danger of blowing the maternity ward sky high.
“I want that with you. A little you and a little me. That’s part of our forever, right?”
“Ri–right.”
“Good, let’s get back in there, then.”
Chapter Fourteen
Odie: Hi.
Aussie: Hey babe.
Odie: Where are you?
Aussie: Um, my bed.
Odie: Tell me you’re joking.
Odie: Austin.
Aussie: Fuck.
Odie: You forgot.
Aussie: I forgot.
Odie: Forget it. I’ll walk.
Aussie: No. I’m coming.
Aussie: Please don’t walk.
Aussie: I’m on my way.
Odie: I’m walking already.
Odie: Just look for me. I hate standing there.
Aussie: Okay.
Aussie: I’m sorry.
Aussie: Really sorry.
Odie stared at those two words, those eleven letters.
Really sorry.
The thing was, he was always sorry. Whenever he forgot anything.
Her birthday. Sorry.
To feed her fish while she was away with her parents one time. Sorry.
To hand in her assignment when she was out of school for a boxing event, resulting in her being marked down. Sorry.
And those apologies were always doubled-down on. Really sorry.
Over the years she’d kind of gotten used to it. Him forgetting. And usually, she didn’t ask for much without leaving him endless reminders or having a backup plan.
But . . . this. This feeling inside when he forgot was the reason she still held that little part of herself back, why she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to say “I love you” even though Austin already had. Several times.
Because the thing was, she did love him, and had for longer than she could really remember. And though that love had evolv
ed over the years, she knew it was real and honest and that she wanted to share it with him. Only . . . saying it out loud—to him—opened her up for the kind of hurt she wasn’t sure she’d recover from.
Her mind slunk back a few days to their conversation in the hall outside Ashton’s hospital room. “I want that with you. A little you and a little me,” he’d said and the truth was, once she’d worked past her shock at his openness, she’d realized that she wanted that too.
Don’t overreact or overthink it, sweet girl. Her mother’s voice was in her head. There are no two people in this world better suited than you and Aussie. Which is why she needed to take a deep breath, and just remember that this was Austin. Forgetting was his shtick.
It wasn’t a big deal.
It wasn’t an indication that they weren’t built to last.
Right?
She sighed, and started walking in the direction of her apartment. She’d just worked an extra two hours at the gym, taking over classes for one of the other trainers after he’d broken a leg sky diving. She was tired. And, dammit, she was expecting better now.
They were in a relationship. Wasn’t that supposed to come with more weight? Shouldn’t it have made her more . . . unforgettable.
*Snort* If that were true, I wouldn’t be walking home at ten at night when he promised he’d be here at nine-thirty.
She’d been looking forward to hanging out. Making out. And probably some other out things she couldn’t think of past her righteous anger.
A horn broke through the still evening, making her jump.
“Odie,” he said through the open passenger window, his body leaned partway across the console, so he could see her better. “I’m—”
“Sorry. Yeah, I know.” She opened the door and climbed in, glaring at him long enough that he looked appropriately sheepish, then looking away.
“Garfield.” He said her name like he didn’t expect an answer, which was good.
Since she wasn’t planning on giving one.
In the silence of the car ride, she fumed and flamed and thought up all kinds of creative punishments for him.
Start playing Christmas tunes two months early. He hated Christmas music.
Make him spar with her in fluorescent pink spandex shorts. In front of Meatball McGee.
Force feed him Brussels sprouts and shaved ham. At the same time. That would make him doubly gag, since those were his two most hated foods.
She even thought about cutting him off, but since she had done nothing wrong, there was no reason to punish herself.
But the time they arrived at her place, she’d made her decision. “Thank you for coming,” she said, cool politeness in her tone.
“You’re welcome?” He phrased it like a question, knowing he’d made a big, fat mistake, no doubt.
“Are you coming in?”
“Am I invited in?”
“Do you want to come in?”
“Are you still mad?”
“Are you really sorry?”
That made him pause. Maybe because of the way her voice broke a little, or maybe his own guilt at his stupid mistake.
He knew he was forgetful. They both knew it. But this was the first time he’d ever forgotten her.
Not something about her.
Her.
And they were dating.
Am I so forgettable?
“Of course I am. Of course I am, Garfield. I was thinking about you, missing you, all day. And I just got side-tracked, is all.” He smiled sheepishly, and her anger ebbed.
“I won,” she said, referring to their question game, making it clear that, for now, at least, all was forgiven.
“Nah. I did,” he said, as he pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. “When you agreed to be my girl.”
Austin watched the way Odette coolly and calmly handled the patrons of The Avenue. Never getting riled up, never taking too long or getting too short with the customers that thought it okay to yell their orders at her, call her names or just generally make a nuisance of themselves.
She was something else. And she was his.
His stomach pitted when he thought of the phone call he’d received a few nights earlier—Odie calling to ask why he’d forgotten to pick her up from work—and he rolled his shoulders. He’d hated the way she’d looked when he’d finally arrived, like she was contemplating some deep, deep shit.
His mind had automatically gone to the worst possible place—the place that ended with him alone and missing her again, and her in the arms of an idiot like Meatball McGee.
“But that didn’t happen, so be better and get over it,” he told himself firmly, still standing at the back of the bar and observing her every move and getting harder with each passing second.
“Who are you talking to?” Bodie sidled up beside him, an apron tied around his waist, a half-smirk on his face.
“Why are you back here? Shouldn’t you be out there helping her?” Austin asked, instead of owning up to the fact he’d been talking to himself.
“It’s my break. And besides, she doesn’t need my help. She’s a machine.” Bodie’s voice held a note of awe, and Aussie couldn’t help but silently agree. “So, talking to yourself, huh?”
“Like you don’t do it, man.”
“Not where anyone can hear me.”
“To be fair, I had no idea you were there. I thought you were, you know, doing the job I pay you for.” Austin smiled to let Bodie know he was joking. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Why am I asking him this?
“Me? Nah, not anymore.” Bodie shrugged. “Last one broke up with me because I had no direction, so I’m kinda enjoying having no direction with whoever the hell I want.”
“Right.” Austin couldn’t really fault the kid’s plan. After all, he’d enjoyed something similar when he was in his early twenties, too. Now he had Odie, but with Odie came questions . . .
Questions there was no way Bodie could answer.
“Better get back out there. Good talk.” Bodie clapped a hand on Aussie’s shoulder and walked off, leaving Aussie to wonder what, exactly, about their three-minute conversation classified it as a “good talk.”
Chuckling to himself as he diverted his attention back to Odie, he tried to order the thoughts in his mind.
And the same one came out on top every time.
When is she going to tell me she loves me?
He felt strange about it. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that she loved him. But surely . . . “She should have said it by now, right?”
He shook his head, dropping his eyes down to his shoes, trying to muster up a pep-talk that overrode his concerns.
Like that maybe she wasn’t as sure about him as he was about her.
“She loves you, you idiot,” he muttered, reminding himself that she was the one who’d wanted to be wooed.
That meant she wanted to go slow.
And that meant she was probably coming around to the whole “I love you” thing in her own time.
Which totally meant that forgetting her after work wasn’t holding them back.
Yeah, he was definitely an—“Idiot, for sure.”
“Who’s an idiot?” Odie’s voice startled him, and made him realize that, yet again, he was talking out loud.
“Fuck, I didn’t realize you were there,” he replied, quickly wrapping his arms around her and bringing his mouth to hers for a sipping kiss.
After thinking over his doubts and his worries, nothing else but a taste of her lips would be enough to settle his racing heart.
“Clearly. Calling yourself an idiot? Why?” she asked, returning the kiss and then some, her hands slipping around his waist and down into the back pockets of his jeans.
“Thinking about the other night again,” he admitted, loathe to bring it up but wanting her to know that he didn’t take forgetting her lightly. “Wondering what you see in me.”
“Aussie,” she started, her voice soft with something he couldn’t
quite name.
Pity, probably.
“Odette,” he responded, giving her another quick kiss. “Are you on break?”
“Yeah, just for a few minutes. I was getting hungry.”
“I can get something from the kitchen for you,” he offered, knowing that the staff working back there could whip her up something fast to eat before she went back behind the bar to face the rest of the night.
“Not what I’m hungry for, babe, but thanks.” She winked at him, and he tilted his head, wondering momentarily what she wanted if not bar food.
And then, it hit him. She wants me, he thought, his chest puffing with pride.
There was no way she didn’t love him, not when she hungered for him, even when she was in the middle of a shift, even if just a few days earlier, she’d been angered by his lack of consideration.
She’d tell him she loved him when she was good and ready, he decided. And until then, he’d just keep giving her what she wanted, as best he could.
He’d start with sating her hunger. “Well, then, Garfield. Why don’t you join me in my office?”
Chapter Fifteen
It had been hard to leave Odie in bed, but Austin knew he had responsibilities outside of making his girl come over and over and over again. Though, since giving her whatever she wanted had continued to be his main priority in the time since he’d forgotten her after work, those other responsibilities seemed less important.
In fact, he decided, if making Odie happy could be turned into a full-time, well-paying job, he’d take it in a heartbeat.
Odie: Thinking about you.
Odie: Oh, and dinner tomorrow.
Odie: Don’t forget. You’re still getting the dessert, right?
Odie: NO CITRUS!!!!
Austin smiled at the messages, knowing that double-checking the reminder set in his phone to get the dessert, and checking that whatever it was remained citrus-free, was very important. As in, not something he should mess up.
No lemon tart. No orange poppy seed muffins. No grapefruit do-dads.
Though who ever would want grapefruit anything anyway?