The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3)

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The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3) Page 13

by Xavier Neal


  “Excuse me?”

  “Your plans always keep us locked in this house like it’s some sort of fucking fortress. It’s not. You and your daughter deserve to go out into the world and experience it a bit more. And don’t give me the shit about money being tight or not having time. You already know every dime I’ve spent on the two of you is a fucking pleasure to me, just like you know the time we could spend out doing things together is the same time we spend here. You’re doing to Hattie the same shit Jesse is.”

  Her jaw plummets to the ground.

  “He keeps her locked in the house and glued to a screen. You keep her locked in the house and glued to your side.”

  “I am doing what’s best for Hattie!”

  “Are you?” I coldly argue. “Or are you just afraid to do something else?”

  Her heaving chest continues to rapidly rise and fall.

  Our biggest obstacle isn’t time or money or having a little girl interrupt us every time our lips are about to touch. It’s this bullshit. This misconception that she is the only one who can love Hattie or care for her properly. This irritating fucking logic that because I pick what’s for dinner or where we’re going for ice cream, if we can go out to get ice cream, that I’m trying to control them. Instead of accepting my thoughtful techniques as attempts to free them from the shell of the routine they’ve been forced to survive in, she uses them as excuses to push me away. Create distance. Keep me at arm’s length when I’m too close to the real Ryann.

  The one who likes her tits pushed against the patio glass door where the neighbors can see.

  The one who likes to sing Mariah Carey at the top of her lungs after four shots of tequila.

  The one who spontaneously kisses me after she tells me I’m the best thing to ever happen to her.

  That’s the Ryann she doesn’t want anyone to see…

  The Ryann who remembers how to do more than just be a fucking parent.

  Hattie slinks back into the room and leans against my leg. “What movie are we going to?”

  I give her tiny wavy hair a ruffle. “That’s up to your mom, Hattie Pattie. She wants to make all the decisions.”

  “No…” Ryann softly counters. “I want us to make decisions, Pax. Not you. Not me. Us.”

  Her words receive a small nod. “Can we at least agree on no movie?”

  “Definitely no movie.” My girlfriend shakes her head and lowers herself down to a squat to make better eye contact with her daughter. “What do you think, princess? Should we have a picnic in the park, or do something really cool like roller-skating?”

  A contortion of shock flies onto both of our faces as we croak in unison, “Roller-skating!?”

  Ryann snickers. “It’s weird you two kinda look alike.”

  Hattie loudly objects, “But I don’t have any skates!”

  I take the same position that Ryann has right beside her daughter. “You know me either. What do you say we go grab some for you, me, and Mom?”

  “But I don’t know how to skate!”

  “I’ll teach you,” Ryann sweetly proclaims. “Sometimes it’s fun to learn and try new things…”

  Our eyes meet seconds after the words have left her mouth. “I agree.”

  We exchange silent apologies and link hands.

  Honestly, we’re all learning here. I don’t really know dick about being a great boyfriend or father. I’m just making the most effort I can every step of the way. Between watching my parents and watching ruined couples in mediation, if I’ve learned anything it’s the necessity to always keep trying. Never give up in a relationship because that’s the real moment it’s over.

  After picking up a quick bite to eat and skating equipment, we head over to the large park not too far from their house. Ryann begins with getting Hattie’s skates properly laced while I busy myself removing her paddings from the packages. She insists I strap on the knee and elbow pads but demands to put on her purple unicorn helmet all by herself. Once she’s set, Ryann and I suit up in the same fashion, except I don’t have a helmet. Apparently, my head is too large to protect. I lock our contents in my vehicle and do my best to prevent from immediately falling. Ryann and Hattie giggle at my expense, yet I don’t mind. Seeing their beautiful smiles is worth all the pending embarrassment. The three of us cautiously relocate to the sidewalk where Ryann does her best to give us basic instructions. Despite the fact she claims she hasn’t skated since high school, the woman is a natural. Her actions are executed so flawlessly that I wonder if she is in a secret roller derby club she refuses to mention. Hattie struggles in the beginning to find her footing, fear of falling more prevalent than the desire to learn. However, my constant colliding with the ground provides enough proof that just because you fall doesn’t mean you can’t get back up to try again. Within the first forty five minutes, she has the hang of it. They increase their speeds leaving me trailing in the distance. My frustration soars as I struggle to scoot along, but I grind my teeth to keep it from showing. Ryann begins to demonstrate simple tricks, telling us both stories about her first job being at a skating rink. Hattie’s dazzled by the tale that has Ryann looking like a rock star, and I’m fascinated with the fun past she seems to keep hidden.

  Like fun means she was irresponsible.

  Like she’s ashamed she wasn’t always this cautious.

  Hattie attempts to mimic Ryann’s skating techniques and pride filled smiles cross both of our faces.

  There’s something special about watching your child learn something new.

  Her child.

  Fuck, I wish she were our child.

  She will be.

  It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a couple of months. I know they belong to me the same way I belong to them.

  A child comes rushing by and accidently bumps the arm I have stretched out for balance. My body teeters to stay upright but fails miserably.

  I land on the ground once again with a loud thud and muffled, “Fuck.”

  Ryann and Hattie skate over, their giggles singing in the afternoon air.

  “You’re like Humpty Dumpty’s Dad,” Ryann teases with a wide grin.

  Unsure if the reference is to my constant falling or my bald head, I merely glower.

  “And my puzzle skills are subpar. You may wanna stay down this time.”

  The jovial expression on her face ignites mine.

  “Hattie, why don’t you keep practicing your tricks while I make sure Pax doesn’t need superglue to keep his egg,” her hand grazes the top of my head, “together?”

  She giggles again and prepares to rush off when I object, “Wait! Can I get a picture of us before you skate off to practice for the Olympics?”

  Hattie laughs more. “There’s no roller skating in the Olympics!”

  “You sure? Isn’t that what they do in the sequin dresses?”

  “Ice skating,” the two correct in unison.

  I remove my phone from my pocket. “Yeah, same thing.”

  As soon as I have the camera put in selfie mode, they squeeze into the frame. We take a couple of smiling shots, a few silly, and end on one where they’re each kissing one of my cheeks.

  Hattie rushes back to her practice area, and Ryann settles down beside me. “You know, I would never want Hattie in the Olympics. My best friend Eden, her boyfriends are Olympians, and let’s just say the grueling stories she’s told is something I never want my little girl to go through.”

  Boyfriends?

  Plural.

  Not just one.

  How the fuck could anyone share someone they love like that?

  My girlfriend stretches out her gorgeous, long legs in front of her, attention now on me. “The fact you skate worse than my six year old has me curious. Have you ever actually skated before?”

  “Once.”

  Her eyebrows lift for more information.

  “It was for my baby sister’s fifteenth birthday party, which was the last birthday I ever got to share with her.” The memory craw
ls back to the front of my mind. “It was this eighties Pretty in Pink monstrosity because that was her favorite movie. I spent most of the night just making sure nothing happened to her, like no one’s hands wandered where they didn’t belong and that no one made her cry because teenage girls are vicious, but then towards the end of the party she convinced me to come have a birthday skate with her.” I let my eyes briefly fall shut and her teenage face flashes behind my lids. “She could’ve asked for anything, and I would’ve torn the world apart to give it her.” My inability to give her the one thing she truly needed churns my stomach, forcing my eyes back open. “I busted my ass a bunch that night, too. Guess I’m just too big for these tiny wheels.”

  A small smile briefly appears on Ryann’s face. “Why was that the last birthday you got to share with her? College prevent you from coming home?”

  Bile brews up my esophagus. “She had to move away.”

  I watch Ryann’s face cycle through deciding on what to ask next. “What’s her name?”

  “Julia, but we all call her Julez.”

  Our sweet jewel we had to keep hidden for her own safety…

  “Is that why you have that diamond tattoo with locks and chains around it?”

  I nod to answer the question, but swiftly change subject. “This was fun.” My hand lands lovingly on her thigh. “We needed this.”

  Ryann’s touch lands on mine. “We did. And…I think you were right earlier. We should do more stuff like this with her. It’s just…between the odd hours I work sometimes and affording impromptu splurges like this, makes it difficult. Besides, Hattie at home is a safe Hattie. Hattie at home with me hovering over her is a Hattie that knows Mom loves her.”

  I turn my palm upward to hold her hand. “She’ll still know that if you give her wiggle room to just be a little independent. Look at her now. Look at how happy and content she is skating by herself.” Our attention swings to Hattie who has mastered the spin. “And just because you give her the opportunity for self-discovery doesn’t mean you don’t love or care about her, Ry. It actually means the exact opposite.”

  My words receive a soft sigh and a small nod.

  “What do you think about going garage sale hunting for post cards tomorrow before we go uniform shopping?”

  Ryann cringes. “Damn it. I forgot they sent the supply list already.”

  A surprised expression appears on my face.

  “Work has just been…so hectic with trying to familiarize myself with the pieces on the list that any other paperwork, I.E. school supplies for this semester, has just gotten lost in the fog.”

  I casually state, “You know, I don’t mind helping out with that kind of shit, Buttercup. You can put me on the email list, and I can be your second set of eyes, so we don’t miss anything important.”

  Her expression fakes innocence. “Like…open house on Monday?”

  The reaction receives a short chuckle. “We have open house on Monday?”

  “You don’t have to come! I just thought…” She pauses, waiting for me to insist that I do, yet I let her follow through with the declaration, knowing she needs to own her intentions. Ryann steadies her voice. “I want you to come with me to open house. Meet Hattie’s teachers. Find out what they’ll be learning. What’s expected of us.”

  Another wave of pride pumps through my chest as I nod. “I’ll be there.”

  Unprompted, Hattie skates over and exclaims, “Did you see? Did you see? I can spin! Watch me spin!” She twirls around with perfect precision. “See!”

  “You are a superstar, Hattie Pattie.”

  Her light complexion reddens under the compliment.

  She looks exactly like Ryann…

  “Very awesome,” my girlfriend echoes. “Super proud of you!”

  The cherry color deepens.

  Cautiously, I question, “It’s been about two and half hours. How do you feel?”

  Hattie shrugs. “Fine.”

  “You wanna grab a snack from the car and keep skating for a bit, or do you wanna grab a snack and head straight for the grocery store? Gotta stop by to pick up stuff for dinner.”

  She quickly investigates, “Who’s makin’ dinner?”

  “Me.”

  Obvious relief falls on her face, which makes Ryann scowl.

  “Whatcha makin’?”

  I prepare myself for negotiations. “What do you want?”

  “Chicken nuggets.”

  Ryann beats me to the denial. “No. You had those the night before last. Plus, you had chicken strips for lunch. No more fried chicken for the day.”

  Hattie’s long face frowns.

  “You heard the boss. Wanna try again?”

  “Mac and cheese.”

  The lack of contemplation has me cringing.

  God, I swear kids nowadays have their minds programmed to always want the same six shitty foods.

  “How about cheese stuffed ravioli?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Mine’s better than mac and cheese.”

  “Nothing’s better.”

  “How can you say that without even examining the evidence first?”

  Ryann snickers, “Need I remind you, Suit, she's six, not sixty, and that we’re not in court.”

  A crooked smirk crosses my lips at the remark. “Let’s make a deal.”

  “What did I just say?” My girlfriend scolds.

  “Try my pasta, and we’ll have whatever you want for dessert.”

  “Brownies!”

  “Fudge or chocolate?”

  “Both.”

  My smile widens at the same time I nod. “Both it is.”

  Hattie slurps the sauce that’s lingering on her lips while Ryann and I simply gawk.

  It’s like she’s got my genes. The way she scarfed down two bowls of pasta when according to Ryann she usually only eats half her thing of macaroni tells me she likes to eat, she just doesn’t like what she’s being served. She even had two helpings of the lightly soaked vinaigrette cucumbers, a food Ryann swore she hated. Cooking for the two of them always feels so right. So natural. Like all the skills I grew up learning and sharpening were to please the two of them.

  With a teasing smile, I push my bowl away. “What do you think, Hattie Pattie? Better or should we stock up on the blue box?”

  Her body struggles to reach the brownies at the same time she declares, “Better!”

  “Agreed.” Ryann moves the plate closer. “And I honestly don’t think I’ve ever had pasta or alfredo sauce made from scratch.”

  I offer her a cocky grin. “Admit it’s better than the crockpot.”

  My girlfriend nonchalantly shoots me the finger before stating, “After you finish that, it’s time for a bath and bed.”

  “Can you and Pax both read me the story?”

  Our combined storytelling forces are something I secretly hope for each time I’m around for it. I know how much one on one time means to Ryann. I know how important it is she has private moments with her daughter, but I can’t help feeling flattered that Hattie wants to extend those moments to me. It’s one of her ways of considering me a member of their family.

  However, knowing how much I’ve already pushed Ryann today, I offer, “You don’t want just Mom and Hattie Pattie time? I’ve been tagging along on your fun all day.”

  Ryann’s hand crosses the table to give mine a sweet, reassuring squeeze. “We don’t mind sharing our routine with you.”

  The sentence swells my heart.

  Hattie smacks on the last of her brownie. “And breakfast? Can you have breakfast with me and Barry tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  “And on Tuesday before my first day of school?”

  My eyes briefly flicker to Ryann’s noting the mixture of emotion.

  We haven’t had me stay over with Hattie in the house yet. Our sexual exploits, which now always involve a locked door and a makeshift gag, have me dragging my ass out in the middle of the night to prevent having to deal with the
consequences or explain why I never went home and where I slept. Awkward conversations no one wants to have with a six year old.

  Ryann speaks first. “You leave for school pretty early in the morning, sweetheart. Not sure Pax has the time to drive all the way over here before work.”

  “Then just sleep over.”

 

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