by T. L Smith
Mostly because Heather is here with me.
I kiss her and lay back on the bed, bringing Heather with me. Her arms go around my neck, but she hesitates.
“Isn’t your brother in the house?”
I let out a sigh. Nothing ruins the mood faster than bringing up that fucker. “Yeah, but he’s not going to come in or anything.”
“What if he hears us?”
I shrug again and smile. “It’ll make up for the million times I had to listen to him when we were younger.”
Heather looks completely put-off and I can’t really blame her. “Raincheck?” she asks.
“Of course,” I reply with a smile, ignoring the nagging in the back of my mind that this is something more than just not being in the mood. She’s been “not in the mood” a lot this past month, ever since we hashed out plans to come to Orlando and have Thanksgiving with my family.
“Sorry. I’m just tired. And my back still hurts from the flight.”
“You were tense that whole time.” I move around and put my hands on her shoulders. “Get a drink from the start when we fly back to New York,” I joke and start massaging her stiff muscles. Heather told me she was a nervous flyer, but I didn’t know the extent of it until we flew from New York to Florida.
“That feels good,” she says with a sigh. “Thank you.”
“Lay down, let me rub your back. And I won’t make a move, promise.”
Heather gives me a kiss and then lies down. Five minutes later, my phone rings. I pick it up off the dresser to silence the call but see it’s work.
“Everything okay?” Heather asks.
“Yeah.” I decline the call. “It’s the day before Thanksgiving…I don’t know why anyone from the office is even calling.”
“You can answer it.”
“I already hung up.”
Heather rolls over. “Call them back. I know it will bother you.”
It already is bothering me. There are several promotions set to run this weekend, and things need to line up perfectly. There better not be a fucking problem. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m going to get something to eat and then take a shower and crash. You can shower with me if you’d like.”
“I think I can handle that.” I help Heather to her feet, kiss her, and then call the office back once she’s downstairs. The email server Black Ink Press uses is down, which has created a fucking problem. I’m on the phone for twenty minutes, getting more and more irritated as time goes by. I’m not in New York, and I can’t fix the server. I don’t know why I was even called.
Not wanting to be stressed out over the first holiday Heather and I are spending together, I put the phone down and take a minute before I go downstairs. Laughter echoes up the stairs, and I follow it to find Heather sitting in the kitchen with my brother.
“Hey, Cole,” Luke calls, turning and looking over his shoulder. He’s at the stove, and whatever he’s cooking smells amazing, though I won’t fucking tell him that. Heather is sitting at the island counter and turns her head down. Her pale cheeks redden, and she doesn’t make eye contact. Weird.
“Luke,” I say. “Hi.” My relationship with my brother has always been strained, but for Heather’s sake, I’m doing the best I fucking can.
“How’s work?” he asks. “What’s new and exciting in the world of publishing?”
I cringe, trying to keep from snapping. He’s asking a question, but it feels like a personal stab at my job. I might not be rushing into burning buildings like he does for a living, but I have a well-paying, respectable job.
“Same old, same old,” I answer. “What about you?”
“Same for me,” he says, turning back to the food. I sit next to Heather, slipping my arm around her waist. “And congrats on the engagement. This is the first time I’ve seen you both since you convinced Heather to join you on the Dark Side.”
Heather laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, making Luke raise his eyebrows. I immediately go on the defense.
Luke turns off the burner and grabs three plates. Part of me wants to say I’m not hungry and refuse to eat this just because he made it, but I’m fucking starving. And I’m trying not to be petty.
“I know you’re not supposed to swim after you eat.” Luke puts his plate in the sink, “but I was going to grab a beer and get in the pool. It’s fucking hot here, even if the natives disagree.”
“I’d love to go in,” Heather echoes right away, even though she declined my offer to get in the pool just an hour ago. Oh well, right? Heather looks good in a bikini either way.
The rest of the day passes quickly, and Thanksgiving comes and goes before we know it. Luke leaves Friday morning to get back to work, thank God, and Heather and I drive to Disney World.
It should be fun. It should be carefree. But Heather is quiet and distant. Something is wrong, but I’m too scared to ruin a good thing and ask. I wait it out, hoping she’ll snap back to her normal, happy self at any moment.
But she doesn’t, and that Sunday night when we get back to New York, I can’t help myself.
“What’s going on?” I ask her, setting my suitcase on the bed to start unpacking. “You’ve been acting off since Thanksgiving. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she says with a smile and sits on the edge of the bed.
I go to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Heather…you can tell me anything. I love you. I want you to be happy.”
“I can’t do this. You’re so good to me, and I can’t lie to you.” She gets up and walks to the other side of the room. Tears fill her eyes, and my heart stops as I watch her take off her ring. She extends the diamond to me, but I can’t move. If I take it back, then it’s over.
My chest hurts, feeling like it’s caving in. “No, Heather, don’t say this. Whatever is wrong…we can fix. We can work through it.”
“We can’t,” she whispers and tears roll down her cheeks. I want to go to her, brush them away, and kiss her. But I still can’t move. “Because I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying this whole time and I know I just can’t.”
I blink, having to remind myself to breathe. “What can’t you do?”
“I can’t love you the same way you love me.” She says each word slowly, and each word chips away at my heart until it’s barely together. One wrong move and the whole thing will come crashing down, breaking into a million pieces that will be too small to ever put back together.
“No.” I shake my head, unable to think of anything else to say. “No.”
She sets the ring down on the dresser. “Yes. I wish I loved you the same way. Really, I do.”
“Heather…don’t do this. I’ve been busy with work and we haven’t spent as much time together lately, but that can change. I’ll cut back my hours.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I will. I’ll get another job. Heather—I love you. I love you enough to do anything.”
Her strawberry blonde hair falls over her face as she tips her head down. “And that’s exactly why I can’t stay. Because you would do anything, and you deserve to have someone who loves you just as much. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”
What is she talking about? She makes me happy. She loves me. I know it. “But you do.” I stride forward and she holds out her hand.
“No, Cole, please, just stop! I can’t love you the same because…because I’m in love with someone else.”
My cracked and fragile heart falls out of my chest. It hits the floor and I feel like I’m going to fall and cut myself on the pieces.
“I have been, and I tried to stop, but I just can’t. I want to love you, Cole, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I think we have a real chance, and I can’t go on like this with you.”
I stare at her for a minute, hands shaking. “Who is it?”
She raises her eyes, lashes wet with tears. “Luke.”
Chapter 1
Cole
Present day…
> You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Harper, no,” I say and make a mad dash forward, lunging for my niece before she plummets off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. She’s only sixteen months old, but the kid has the athleticism of an Olympian. She’s fast and can climb to the top of anything in seconds. And I mean fucking anything.
She immediately starts to scream and cry as soon as I pick her up, setting her back down on a rug in the living room.
“Mickey Mouse is on,” I say, pointing to the flat screen TV mounted on the wall. “Mommy says you love Mickey.”
She turns at the word and lights up when she sees the cartoon mouse on the screen. Distracted by the show, she forgets about climbing on the couch just long enough for me to sneak away back to the stove. The macaroni is boiling over, spewing sticky bubbles onto the stainless steel stovetop.
Son of a bitch.
I take a deep breath. I got this. I fucking have to. Something crashes behind me and I whirl around, heart stopping as I prepare for the worst. Harper is still happily watching TV, but the dog chases a calico cat through the living room, knocking over fucking everything in their path. The cat’s fur is raised and she leaps onto the counter, sliding to a stop right next to the oven and knocking over a package of Goldfish crackers. The bag falls into the burner. It goes up in flames, stinking up the kitchen and making the smoke alarm go off.
Harper screams.
Paige and Grace come running down the stairs—also screaming.
I flick off the burner, throw the burning paper bag into the sink, turn on the vent above the oven, and rush into the living room to scoop up Harper. Tears stream down from her bright blue eyes—the exact same shade as her father’s—and she clings to me with all her might.
Despite the chaos around me, having Harper cling to me, looking at me for safety and comfort, makes this night worth it.
“What’s going on?” Grace shouts over the blaring beeps. “Do I need to call Dad?”
“No,” I say, knowing she’s referencing Luke, my brother. Technically he is Grace and Paige’s stepfather. They call their biological father “Daddy” and call Luke “Dad.” It seems like it would be confusing to me, but it’s not to them. “It’s just the oven. It’ll stop in a minute.”
“Get a towel,” Paige tells me. “And wave it by the alarm. That’s what Mommy does.”
I grab a damp towel from the counter and do my best to fan the alarm while cradling Harper to my chest. Grace opens the window above the sink and turns the fan on in the living room. The living room, breakfast nook, and kitchen are all connected in an open concept layout, and not even a minute later, the smoke alarm stops.
“It’s okay,” I sooth, rubbing Harper’s back.
“I can take her,” Grace insists. She “babysits” while her mom works in the home office. “And make her stop crying.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “You two can go back to playing.”
“Is dinner ready?” Paige asks, looking up at me. “I’m hungry.”
“Uh,” I start, eyeballing the mess on the stove. “Almost. I can get it dished up for you guys if you sit with Harper in the living room.” I feel like the worst uncle ever right now. Grace is nine years old and Paige turns six next week. They’re easy to watch and are overall good kids. They listen well and get along way better than I expected. Harper is a little monster, and I say that endearingly. She’s cute as hell and will snuggle the crap out of you, but you’re fucked if you turn your back for a minute. She takes after her father, that’s for fucking sure.
The girls all look alike, despite Harper being a half-sister. Grace and Paige are technically my step-nieces, but I love them all equally. All three girls resemble their mother. Grace and Paige have Lexi’s green eyes, but Harper has blue eyes, getting it from Luke.
“Hey little sweetie pie,” Grace coos and picks up Harper the second I set her down. “Do you need a diaper change?”
Paige pinches Harper’s butt and nods. “Yep. She’s pretty squishy. Can we change her diaper, Uncle Cole?”
“Sure,” I agree a little too eagerly. I’ve changed a handful of diapers since Harper has been born, but I’ll happily allow someone—anyone—else to change one. I grab the diapers and wipes from the closet for Grace and go back to the kitchen, draining the noodles and adding butter, milk, and the powdered sauce mix. I stir it together and dish it out on plates, allowing it to cool as I reheat the chicken Luke made for the girls earlier in the day. My brother is a damn fine cook, and I hate him for it. Well, with the exception of the nights when I come over for dinner. Then I’m happy.
I put plates on the table and call the kids over, taking Harper from Grace so I can slip her in the highchair.
“You forgot napkins,” Paige tells me as I click the straps together around Harper’s waist. She’ll climb out of her highchair if she’s not strapped in tight.
“I’ll get them,” I say and walk around the island counter. I open the pantry, grab napkins, and turn just in time to see Harper pick up her plate and throw it to the ground. I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath.
“Pluto!” Paige calls. “Come here, clean-up-crew!”
“Is he allowed to do this?” I ask. I give each girl a napkin and pick up Harper’s plate. She’s happily babbling to herself, playing with the bit of macaroni that’s on her highchair tray.
“Mom lets him,” Grace tells me. “She says he’s too old and fat to eat too much though. But we don’t have to vacuum after every meal if he eats Harper’s mess.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, that’s good, I guess.” I scoop what I can back onto the plate, letting the medium-sized dog snarf up what he can and lick the tiled floor. I get Harper a small bowl of food, and sit at the table next to her, feeding her little by little.
She follows me around crying as I try to clean up the kitchen. I can’t ignore her, so I pick her up and do the best I can cleaning one-handed. Grace and Paige go into the living room to watch TV and start bickering over what to watch.
I set Harper down for a second so I can scoop the leftover mac and cheese into a bowl, and she immediately starts crying.
“Girls,” I say, raising my voice so it can be heard above the baby’s cries. “Just hang on. I’ll pick something for you.”
They ignore me, and Grace reaches forward, trying to snatch the remote out of Paige’s hands. Paige yanks her hands back and her fingers slip. The remote goes flying back in Grace’s grasp, whacking her in the mouth. Her eyes go wide and she brings her hand to her face, dropping the remote. A full second passes before she screams.
“She’s bleeding!” Paige yells. Grace gets up and I see blood dripping from her fingers. Tears stream down her face as she cries, mixing with the blood.
“I’m sorry!” Paige wails, on the verge of tears herself.
“Hang on,” I say and grab a towel. I whirl around, bump into Harper and knock her over on accident. Her cries get even louder, drowning out Grace.
Internally, I’m screaming just as loud.
I pick up Harper and fly over to Grace, giving her the towel. It’s damp from drying dishes, but that’s okay, right?
Fuck. I’m not cut out for this. I’m not a kid person. I love my nieces with all my heart, but I’m so fucking glad I’m just an uncle. I get to leave in a few hours, though right now it seems like an eternity.
It takes another ten minutes to get everyone calmed down. The kitchen is a fucking disaster, and I have no idea how it got so messy. All I did was make mac and cheese and reheat the chicken. Grace sits on the couch and Paige cuddles up next to her, smoothing her hair and holding her hand. It’s fucking adorable but does little to ease my stress.
I don’t like messes.
I don’t like chaos.
Harper takes in a deep breath and rests her head on my shoulder, little arms going around me. Suddenly, the dishes in the sink aren’t important. The dog and cat growling at each other from inside the dining room aren’t bothering me
anymore.
I sit next to Grace, slipping one arm around her and Paige and cuddling Harper with my other arm. Paige snuggles closer and Harper closes her eyes. I look at the three little girls and smile. Babysitting isn’t that bad after all.
“How were they?” my brother asks several hours later. All three girls are sleeping and I finally got shit cleaned up.
“Not too bad,” I say, standing from the couch and walking into the kitchen. “Grace might have a fat lip in the morning. She and Paige were fighting over the remote and she whacked herself in the mouth.”
“Again?” Lexi, my sister-in-law, sighs. “That’s the second time in like three weeks they’ve done that. I’m about ready to take TV away from them.” She wobbles on tall heels, shaking her head. She bends over to undo the straps and almost falls. Luke catches her, and Lexi looks up into his eyes. A smile plays on her face and she slips her arms around his waist.
“Did they go to bed okay?” Luke asks, directing Lexi to a barstool at the island counter. She heavily plops down and works on taking her shoes off again.
“Not too bad. I think I read a million books. The girls kept asking for one more, which turned into a lot. Harper fell asleep right away. She’s so active, I think she wore herself out.”
“You got lucky,” Lexi says, dropping a red heel to the ground. She leans forward and her words slur just a bit. “Last night bedtime took three hours. Harper wouldn’t go to sleep, Paige was constantly hungry no matter how many bedtime snacks she ate, and Grace threw a fit her sisters were keeping her up. And Luke was at work. After I finally got them to sleep, I sat on the kitchen floor eating leftover jellybeans I found in the back of the pantry, not from this past Easter, but the one before that.”
I laugh. “I don’t know how you do this every day. They’re exhausting.”
“Exhausting but worth it.”
“Very worth it,” Luke assures, going over to Lexi. She puts her hands on his shoulders and stands. “Worth it enough to have another.”
Lexi’s green eyes go wide. “No.”