by Emma Louise
“Are these teethies bothering you?” she asks while she rubs her hands together, before she brings them to his head again. This time she runs her fingertips gently around his face, along his jaw, and around his mouth.
In all this time, neither of them have broken eye contact.
It takes a second before I realize, she’s not singing anymore. Instead, she’s talking to Abel, telling him what she’s doing. Asking him if he likes it. Of course, he doesn’t answer, but she keeps on, explaining what she’s doing as she massages his tiny face.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
She keeps on doing this until my kid smiles at her. Fucking smiles.
She’s better than a baby whisperer. She’s a fucking angel. An angel who’s giving me some not so angelic thoughts right now with the way she’s leaning over in those yoga pants.
Add to that the fact that she’s just worked a miracle on Abel? Yeah, I'm way more turned on than I should be right now. Turning to look at me, she beckons for me to come closer.
“Come watch what I'm doing,” she says, still in the same low tone. “Okay, Dad, I’m not an expert, but I've done a few baby yoga classes. This typically works best if you do it every day. Don’t wait for him to be in pain. Maybe make it part of his bedtime routine.” She goes on to show me where to massage and how much pressure to use.
“What was with the singing?” I can’t help it, I have to ask.
“Huh?” She’s not paying much attention to me, instead concentrating on Abel.
“You kept singing to him, even when you were speaking to me.”
“Oh.” She chuckles as a pink blush steals over her face. “I read somewhere that babies don’t actually understand the words we’re saying, just the tone we use. You could read the Starbucks menu to him, but say it in a soothing tone, and he’ll still love it.” She finishes on a shrug.
“Makes sense, I suppose,” I mutter, biting back the urge to tell her she could read me the damn phonebook in that voice and I'd still sit and listen to her for hours.
It’s barely another minute before Abel’s eyes start to droop. When he lets out a big yawn, Breeze slows down her movements, eventually tapering off when his eyes stay closed.
Definitely a miracle worker.
“Thank you,” I say quietly when she takes a step away from the crib. “You didn’t have to come in here and help...” I hesitate. Apologies are not my strong suit, but I owe her one “Especially after how I spoke to you earlier.”
“You’re probably right.” I’m not shocked at her candid response. I get the feeling she isn’t the type to pull any punches. “But I figured the baby wasn’t the one who was a douche to me so...” Another shrug of that bare shoulder. Her words cause a smile to tip up one side of my mouth.
“Well, I apologize for earlier. Last week too. I’m not always such an ass.” She doesn’t answer, just eyes me speculatively before she nods.
“Okay,” she says, before she moves toward the door.
“Okay?” I parrot back at her.
“Yeah, okay. You apologized. I accepted.” She stops at the door, looking like she wants to say something more, but she’s not sure if she should. I see the moment she decides not to say whatever is on her mind. Instead, she pulls the door open further.
“Good luck with the baby,” she says on a wave. I have no idea why I say it, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Abel. His name is Abel.”
She stops then turns around slowly. When she’s facing me, her warm gaze roams over me.
“Abel,” she repeats. “Cute.” Her smile is wide, and seeing it hits me somewhere in my chest. Why do I get the feeling she wasn’t just talking about my son?
Fuck.
I’m in trouble.
Why on earth did I suggest family dinner?
After an hour of listening to my older sister Ava trash talk all my life choices, I’m beyond ready to go home and eat my body weight in chocolate.
So far, she’s picked holes in where I choose to live. I rent my tiny studio apartment from a lovely old lady called Mrs P; it’s crazy small but cheap. According to Ava, grown women don’t rent rooms above someone else’s garage.
After that it was my job. Who knew being a yoga instructor wasn’t a real job? I ignored the question of when I was going to pick an actual career.
As for my plans to travel? Why would I be so foolish wasting time and money traveling? Why couldn’t I just vacation like normal people?
Ava fusses around the table, making sure everybody has enough food and drinks. She’s in her element with everyone here to fuss over; it’s what she does best. Her husband, Carl, just leaves her to it. They’ve been together since high school, and he’s learned it’s pointless to stop her when she’s on a tear like this. Their ten-year-old daughter, Lainey, sits beside me, eyes glued to her iPad. Their younger two, six-year-old Jake, and Tori who is three, are in bed already.
Asa and my other brother, Beau, are also experts at tuning out Ava and her rants. We’re all used to her by now.
Asa might be the oldest, but Av is only ten months younger, and when our mom passed away, she was the one to assume the parental role. She was twenty-one when it happened; Asa had just turned twenty-two. Beau and I were a lot younger, him thirteen and me just nine-years-old. She dropped out of school and put her life on hold for us. I more than appreciate everything she did for us, everything she sacrificed, but she’s yet to learn how to cut the apron strings.
“As fun as it is having my life choices picked apart, I’m going to head out,” I announce, standing from the table and picking up my plate of half eaten food, not bothering to look at anyone else as I go.
Scraping my leftovers into the dog’s bowl, I dump my plate in the dishwasher then turn around to see Ava standing behind me.
“Which one of them sent you in to apologize?” I ask, knowing one of the guys would have pointed out how she was behaving.
“Asa.” She sighs “I guess he already gave you the “act like a grown up” talk recently?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re not, Av,” I interrupt her.
“Stop being a brat,” she snaps at me like I'm one of her kids, and as much as I'm willing myself to stay mad at her because she just proved my point, I can’t. She’s more than just my bossy big sister. She must realize herself because she deflates.
“I’m sorry. Really sorry,” she says quietly.
“Me too.”
“It’s just that I love you and want what’s best for you.” She tells me something I already know.
“I know. Don’t think for one second that I'm not grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” I pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her. “Mom would be so proud of you.” My throat aches with the weight of the emotion that suddenly sits there. It’s always the same whenever Mom gets mentioned.
“She’d be proud of us all,” she says, squeezing me back.
“Well, maybe not Asa but...” I trail off when she lets out a small laugh.
“It kills me that you didn’t get more time with her,” Ava whispers.
“Me too,” I admit, “but you always tell me I got my free spirit from her. So why does it surprise you that I want the same things she did?”
I was nine when our mom died, but she was sick for years before that. Instead of memories of day trips and activities, I have movie days and picnics in a den she’d made in her bed. Hours spent listening to her telling me to never settle. That I deserved to see the world. To take risks and live every day to the fullest.
My parents were wanderers. They married young and planned to travel the world. Asa was a welcomed surprise for them, but he hadn’t made a dent in their plans. He traveled across Central America with them before his first birthday. Avalon being born a year later was the catalyst for them coming back to Savannah.
Once real life set in, the travel plans got pushed further and further back,
but she never lost that wanderlust.
It didn’t matter that there were more babies born, more work to do, more mundane real life. She always held out hope that one day, she’d get to see the rest of the world.
It wasn’t until my dad died when I was still a baby that she realized she might never get to live those dreams.
Maybe it’s because I was so young, but it was always me who hung on to every word of her stories. She would paint these vivid pictures with her words. Places she’d been, places she wanted to see.
I wanted that too.
I wanted that for me, but part of me wanted it for her too.
“I’m terrified you won’t come back.” Ava sniffs, gripping onto my hand.
“I’ll be safe,” I promise her.
“What if you meet some handsome Spanish guy and end up marrying him and have a ton of his babies? You’ll be thousands of miles away, and we’ll never get to see you.” She cries. Ava has always had a flair for the dramatics.
I’m not sure why, but when she talks about babies and families, my mind immediately flits to TJ. To visions of him and Abel, how he held him to his chest as he cried. How perfect he looked holding him.
Yeah, my thoughts have strayed to them more than they probably should have over the last few days. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t felt drawn to him from the first time I'd seen him. That feeling has only intensified since then.
I’d also be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping to run in to TJ at work, but so far, I’ve yet to see him. I have so many questions. Questions I have no right to ask, but still want to know. Starting with where is the baby’s mother.
I don’t get to dwell on thoughts of TJ and his baby, because the rest of my family are soon bursting into the room, full of laughter and loud voices that bring me back to reality.
A reality where I have no business wondering anything about the mystery that is TJ and his adorable baby boy.
“Are you even listening to me?” My brother’s voice cuts into my thoughts. No, I'm not listening to him, and that’s because it’s taking all of my concentration not to stare across the back yard, where the woman who’s been on my mind a ridiculous amount lately, is sitting at a table with my sister-in-law and her friends.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to run into Breeze at some point over the last few days, ever since she walked out of my office, leaving me with a hefty dose of blue balls.
I never expected to find her at my brother’s house. Luckily for me, it’s Poppy’s baby shower, so there’s a ton of people here, and I’ve so far managed to avoid being alone with her.
That doesn’t mean she hasn’t held my attention all afternoon, though. My eyes have tracked every move she’s made and every person she’s spoken to. I’ve made a point to keep my ass seated at this table with the guys, avoiding as many people as possible.
My brother’s house looks like a baby shop has exploded all over it. There are pink and blue balloons everywhere, strings of lights hung in the trees.
“Sorry, what did you say?” I’ve not listened to a single thing anyone around me has said for the last hour.
“What the fuck is wrong with you today?”
“Nothing. Abel didn’t sleep too good,” I lie. He’s been like a different kid since Breeze and her magic hands showed me how to calm him. He’s sleeping better than ever.
“Sure,” Duke scoffs. Looking around the table, I see all the guys have their eyes on me. Keir, Duke, and Hayden are all stifling a laugh.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been so busy staring at that chick over there for the last hour, that you haven’t heard a single word we’ve said. Who is she anyway?” Hayden adds, leaning forward and pointing his beer bottle at the table where Breeze is sitting.
“She’s nobody,” I lie.
Keir look at me, eyes narrowed before he speaks. “She took over from the yoga instructor at Flex. Poppy and El have been going to her classes, and you know those two could make friends with anyone anywhere,” he tells him.
“That doesn’t explain why this guy has been staring at her like a creepy stalker for the last hour.” Hayden nods toward me, making the rest of the guys laugh.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Picking up my beer, I drain the last of it instead of saying anything else.
“Could have fooled me,” Keir says behind his own bottle.
“I get it,” Hayden continues, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s not hard to look at. Not at all.”
“You guys gossip more than the women do.” Waving my empty bottle around, I stand. “Anyone want a fresh one?” I need to get out of here before I reach across the table and knock him the fuck out.
Once they’ve all answered, I head into the kitchen to get a few minutes peace. The guys can be real dickheads when they want to be. I’m barely in there a minute when my mom walks in.
“Where’s Abel?” I ask. If her grandkids are around, Mom usually has them attached to her hip. Now that Chase is running around all over the place, it’s usually my son she latches on to.
“He fell asleep, so I put him in his stroller in the shade. I just came in to make sure there’s enough food left.”
“There’s twenty people here, Mom, and you’ve cooked enough for sixty.”
“Well, Lucy and Scott will be here soon, and you’ve seen the way you boys eat. I’m surprised there’s a crumb left out there.”
I wait for the pang of jealously that usually comes with knowing Lucy and her boyfriend will be nearby. I’m pleasantly surprised to find I don’t feel much of anything anymore. It’s freeing.
Dropping a kiss on the side of my mom’s head, I leave her to her fussing and head outside. The first thing I notice is that the guys are no longer sitting at the table up on the deck. They’ve moved down to sit where everyone else is, under an open sided tent that’s been set up on the grass.
The second thing I notice is that Abel isn’t in his stroller. He’s being held by Breeze. I’m not going to let myself think about how right she looks holding him. Or how much I like seeing it.
Squeezing the necks of the bottles in my hand, I make my way toward the table. I’m not surprised to see that the only empty seat is next to Breeze, and I’m even less surprised to see Hayden has moved to the seat on the other side of her.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” He leans over and offers her his hand as he introduces himself. “I’ve not seen you around before, and I would never forget such a pretty face.”
Watching him flirt with her has my teeth gritted, immediately set on edge. I accused her of flirting with Jonah at work before, but I think I knew deep down that there was nothing to that. What I was really feeling then was frustration. Frustration that I was attracted to her but couldn’t do a single thing about it.
But this, this is jealousy.
Pure and simple.
A desire to stake a claim on her burns in me. One that isn’t mine to stake.
A handful of conversations, the majority of which I’ve left looking like a jerk, and that’s it. She hasn’t even noticed me approach, so she’s startled when I lean down and lift Abel straight out of her arms.
Settling my son on my lap, I ignore the muttering I hear coming from the direction of my family and friends. I know they’re wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Sure, I can be a dick sometimes, but being outright rude like that isn’t me. Not usually anyway.
“I’m sorry,” Breeze says quietly from the side of me. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to see if I’ve upset her again. But it’s pointless trying to stop the inevitable. My gaze slides to her, and I take in her pretty features. Guilt runs through me when I see the way she shifts nervously in her seat. “He was fussing in his stroller, and everyone else was busy—”
“I’ve got him now. Thanks.” I don’t look at her before turning in my seat, effectively cutting her off.
"Spill.
”
“Wow. Took you a whole three minutes to follow me in here,” I say to my sister-in-law without turning to face her.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen to make a bottle for Abel, I knew at least one of those nosey fuckers would be on me.
“You try standing up from a deck chair quickly while a giant baby sits on your bladder.” She huffs. “Stop avoiding and start answering. We both know that Keir will be in here any second to ‘check on me’. Again.” I turn to her just in time to catch the air quotes.
“He’s just worried about you. We all are after what happened.”
“I know,” she interrupts me, knowing that I'm still not ready to talk about the shit that happened with Willow. I haven’t made any peace with the whole fucked up situation, and I know my brother especially is struggling with the thought of something similar happening to his wife.
“Seriously, stop trying to distract me, and start telling me what the fuck that was out there with you and Bree.” She does an excited little jump and claps her hands together.
Fuck me.
“Nothing to tell, sis.” I busy myself with the formula and water in front of me. Hoping like hell she’ll drop it but knowing she’s like a rabid dog with this shit.
“So let me get this straight,” she starts. “You’ve been staring at her all afternoon, then you snap at her for no reason. That’s classic schoolyard boy with crush behavior, you know.”
“Whatever you say, Pop,” I scoff, aiming for dismissive but probably failing miserably.
“She’s very pretty.”
“She is. She’s also very young,” I remind her, because as beautiful as Breeze is, she’s a hell of a lot younger than me. With a lot less baggage.
“Stop looking for excuses!” Poppy exclaims, rolling her eyes at me. “You should ask her out.”
“I don’t need to look for an excuse, Pop. I need to concentrate on Abel and work. I don’t have room in my life for anything else.” And for once, a part of me wishes that wasn’t the case.