by Ann Grech
“Let me, Ricky,” Mason said quietly from behind me, grasping my hips and pulling me against him once more. “C’s done the best he could. We can get groceries for him later.”
“I’m not angry with him. I’m upset because it’s empty.” I shook my head, turning back into Mason’s strong embrace, guilt and pain overwhelming me. “He’s been struggling and alone. I can’t walk away knowing he’s back here and might not even be eating. Bloody hell.” I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose and breathed again. “I can’t walk away.”
“I know.” Mason ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead. “How about I get some eggs off one of the neighbors and you knead the shit outta this dough. Then when he gets back, we’ll talk to him. We’ll make him see.”
I nodded against his chest and kissed the warm skin at the V of his polo shirt before stepping back. Mason smiled at me, then left through the front door. I slid the potato mash into the freezer and stood hopelessly in the kitchen for a moment before the urge to see the baby girl sleeping peacefully in the other room hit me.
I’d always believed parents were exaggerating when they said they fell in love with their kids at first sight. I’d thought babies grew on people, that their parents would come to love them with time. I had no doubt now that I was wrong. Seeing Gracie for the first time was enough for me to understand how powerful a parent’s love was. Until Gracie, I’d never experienced an instant bond, a sudden surging of love so pure that I’d wanted to wrap her in my arms and protect her forever.
Now I understood. Now I saw exactly what that meant, what it looked and felt like.
I stood at the door, watching her tiny chest rise and fall, her beautiful eyes closed and long lashes fanning out on her cheeks, those tiny bow lips pink against her pale skin. Dressed and swaddled in a white wrap, she looked like an angel.
“Annalise,” I whispered, “please make him see how much I love her. How much I love him, both of them. Please.”
Disappointment hit me when there was no answer, no sign that she’d heard. Of course she hadn’t. I huffed out a laugh at my ridiculousness and ran my hands through my hair, scrubbing them over my face as I sighed. When I opened my eyes, Gracie had shifted. It was as if she could read the tension rolling over me. I tiptoed into the room and leaned over her bassinet, running my fingertips over her forehead before kissing her petal-soft skin.
Standing there waiting for me was Mason, warmth in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. When he held his hand out for me to join him, I grasped it and walked with him into the kitchen where a couple of eggs lay on the countertop.
“Let’s get cooking.” He motioned to the ingredients I had spread out waiting for me. “You’ll feel better.”
I washed my hands again and got to measuring. “This is my great nonna’s recipe,” I explained. “Mama taught us how to make the gnocchi as kids. During the winter, we used to eat it all the time. The trick is to be gentle with the ingredients, so no kneading the shit out of this dough.” I showed Mason how to fold the flour and potato together with the egg and salt, gently mixing it the whole time directly on the floured countertop.
The dough was still sticky, not yet at the right texture to roll out, when Mason nudged me out of the way. “My go.” He grinned and sprinkled the remaining flour over it, then gently rolled the edges of the dough inward, using the same process I had to mix the ingredients together.
As he worked, I poked it, nodding at the improvement in its silkiness.
“Perfetto,” I mused as he dusted dough off his fingers and moved to continue kneading. Reaching out to stop his fingers from sinking into the mixture again, I added, “No more or they’ll be tough.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Now what?”
“Now we roll and cut. Like this.”
We worked the dough together, and I’d just slipped the final tray into the freezer when we heard a car pull up. A knot of tension coiled tight within me, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat just as Gracie started cooing.
Mason squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he assured me before walking out to see what was happening.
Mason
I refused to believe this would be the end of us. Caden walking out—literally running away, actually—just meant he needed space to think, not to work up a way to tell us that he wasn’t returning to New Zealand.
I understood his worries, knew they were perfectly reasonable. I wouldn’t want to leave one of my family members behind either, if I had any real family left. My parents were long gone, and my sister and I—separated by eighteen years—hadn’t spoken in years. It wasn’t that we disliked each other, we just had nothing in common, and the awkwardness of our conversations only grew every time we talked.
Ricky’s emotions were crushing him, the fear clawing at him. He held me like a lifeline, trembling in my arms as he fought back tears of heartbreak. I held on to hope, clutching the tiny thread of possibility that held fast. As long as Caden was working through the jumble of thoughts and emotions clouded by the uncertainty that was no doubt in his head, we had a chance. I’d keep fighting for that possibility until he told me there was no hope, and probably still after that.
I kept repeating to myself that we’d get through it, that we’d come out stronger in the end. It became my mantra as I watched Caden drag his feet along the pavement away from us through the front door, and as Ricky held on to me like a life preserver.
When Gracie cried, I reluctantly released Ricky and went to her, smelling the problem before I even entered the room. It was a poo-splosion. My poor baby girl was covered in stinky goo. Cringing, I lifted her and placed her gently on the change mat Caden had set up on the bed.
“Lemmie fix you up, baby girl. It’s not nice being covered in crap, is it?” Stripping her out of the dirty clothes and diaper, I wiped her down, cleaning her little body as best I could. I was a dry-heaving mess, getting more on my hands than I ever wanted to admit while I wiped away the sticky mess as thick as melted tar. And the smell. Holy shit, the smell was putrid. How could that come out of a baby’s bum when all that went into her was formula? “Oh, sweet Jesus, your shit stinks, darlin’.” The cloying odor hung like a toxic gas cloud above me, but I couldn’t leave Gracie on the bed while I turned on the fan to help circulate the air, hopefully straight out the open window. Where was a breeze when you needed one?
I took a moment to use some of the wipes on myself, cleaning my hands and checking my clothes. Thankfully I was poo-free, but damn, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get the stench out of my nose. I was tempted to snort some of the talcum powder stuffed in the box under the bed but resisted. Nose plugs were going to be a distinct possibility for the future though.
As soon as she was free of the mess, her eyes started drooping again, sleep overtaking her once more. She was lax in my arms by the time I’d redressed and swaddled her in the way Caden had shown me. I cuddled her close and murmured nonsense to her, watching her shift into a deeper sleep.
Laying her down in her crib, I whispered, “I love you, Gracie. Sweet dreams, my little princess.”
I walked back into the kitchen to find Ricky staring blindly at boiling water on the stove and a mass of potato peelings on the countertop. He’d been slamming things around in there and now looked utterly defeated. That wouldn’t do. We couldn’t give up our hope. Ricky just needed to understand that I would do whatever it took to keep the four of us together. Call it blind stupidity, naiveté or stubbornness, I didn’t care, but whatever happened, we would make it work.
Determination had me moving to comfort my lover. “We’ll figure this out, Ricky. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we will. We came here to bring our man back, and I’ll be damned if I let him walk away so easily.”
It looked like one of Florida’s famous storms had passed over the kitchen by the time we finished. I’d never had gnocchi before, so I had no idea whether the potato dumpling things we made would be any good or whether they’d be d
ense and bland. Even if they were awful, it was worth making them. I could see the tension lifting from Ricky as he worked, losing himself in a recipe that must’ve dated back at least a century, handed down from generation to generation. I could imagine him as a child learning how to cook the dish from his mama. She was a special lady, a spitfire who didn’t take any shit from anyone. On top of that, she was a goddess in the kitchen. I adored the woman.
No wonder he was passionate about everything he did, but especially food. It was part of him, part of his family’s tradition to welcome people into their home with their warm hearts and deep food bowls.
I was handing the last tray to Ricky so he could store them in the freezer when we heard a car pull up. My man stilled, his face paling while a rock settled low in my gut. With a bravado I didn’t feel, I squeezed his shoulder and reassured him. “We’ll be okay,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster.
Psyching myself up by repeating my new mantra over and over to myself, I pushed through the door and saw a man who could only be Caden’s father. They looked alike in ways, but I didn’t stop long enough to figure out exactly what they were. I needed to see Caden.
What I saw next stole the air out of my lungs.
Chapter Nine
Caden
The sun was already hot when I took the first steps of my run, even though it was only about nine in the morning. Palms swayed in the ocean breeze drifting off the Atlantic, the smell of salt in the air. The sky was a deep cerulean, unmarred by a single cloud.
The perfect day was a stark contrast to the turmoil surging inside me. One of the summer storms that seemed to hit more often at that time of year was predicted to roll in later in the afternoon, but at least for the next few hours, the weather was picturesque.
I started with a slow jog, my feet dragging along the pavement of the old street. The houses were beginning to look dilapidated, much like the one I was living in, but they’d soon be gone. The property developers’ bulldozers would move in and the area would be gentrified—rows of architecturally designed, aesthetically pleasing townhouses and apartment buildings springing up in their place.
Anger at being a victim of capitalism instead of participating in it had me pumping my legs harder and faster. I gritted my teeth as I breathed heavily, pushing my body harder. The tree-lined avenues of old houses on big blocks of land made way for the bigger, more elaborate designs lining the canals. Manicured lawns and expensive rides were parked in garages housing entire collections of cars rather than average rides like George the Jeep. I hadn’t planned on going to the marina where Dad’s boat was moored, but by the time I realized where I was headed, I was already halfway there.
I crossed through the small grove of McMansions and met condos as far as the eye could see. They were identical and perfectly kept, a Florida retiree’s paradise. Golf buggies and rec clubs, daily exercises along the canal-front parks within the community boundaries and a separate RV parking lot. I’d only met a few of the oldies who lived there, but the ones I’d spoken to were nice, especially the couple who leased Dad their mooring. I waved to a few familiar people as I ran, putting on a smile that those who knew me would realize was purely for show.
I was hot, the sun’s rays beating down on me as my feet pounded the pavement, and I needed a drink. I’d been stewing in my own self-pity since I’d left the house an hour earlier, and I wasn’t any closer to coming up with a solution. It was either Rick and Mace in New Zealand, or Dad in Florida. A far-too-long plane trip separated the two, and it was one I couldn’t force upon Gracie every time I needed to get a fix of them. I was between a rock and a hard place with no way out. I’d cut my own arm off too if I saw a solution, but I was trapped. Caged in a place I didn’t want to be in and mocked by what could’ve been.
Running along the boardwalk, I saw Dad. He’d just tossed a bucket into the cooler on deck when I stopped at his mooring. He looked up, eyes wide when he heard my heavy breathing and rasped greeting.
Shaking from the exertion, I rested my hands on my knees and resisted the urge to puke.
“Come on board, Caden. What the hell have you done to yourself?” His brows furrowed as he scrambled to help me onto his boat.
“Ran here,” I gasped, flopping onto the bench seat lining the back of the cruiser. He cracked open a bottle of water and passed it to me before I could ask, and for that I was immensely grateful. Chugging it down, I closed my eyes and tilted my head up to the sky, catching my breath.
“You’re lucky you caught me, I was getting ready to go fishing.”
I didn’t know whether to be pissed at him for being so seemingly carefree when I had what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders, or be happy that he was doing something other than staring off into space.
“Why don’t you come with me?” he asked.
I hesitated. As much as I needed the space, I couldn’t be away from Gracie for that long. She was mine to care for, and Rick and Mace were already being so generous. I didn’t want to take advantage of them, especially when I had news to break to them that would destroy any chance of a future between us.
I rubbed my chest, my heart hurting just thinking that.
“You okay? You don’t have chest pain, do you?”
I huffed out a laugh that held no humor. “Not the kind you’re thinking of, Dad. I’m fine.”
He looked me over and, seemingly satisfied, he spoke again. “The tides will only be good for a couple of hours more, so we won’t be out for too long. We’ll be back by noon.” He paused and furrowed his brow again. “Where’s Grace?”
“I’ve got a couple of friends staying for a week or two to give me a hand. They’re looking after her. Look, I dunno about going fishing—”
“I’m sure your friends wouldn’t mind you spending a couple of hours away from her. They’ve obviously got everything under control.”
Anger surged through me. “How do you know that, Dad?” I asked, my voice rising in anger. “How do you know it’s all smooth sailing when you’re not even around? You haven’t met them, and yet you’re okay with me leaving her with them for hours at a time to go out on the boat?” I shook my head as I stood to leave.
“You know why I can’t come back there.”
He’d always been so involved, so present, more like my best friend than an authority figure. Not that he needed to be—losing my father’s respect would’ve been the worst thing in the world for me. I’d proved just how bad it would be to disappoint him when I was suspended. I wished I had that man back rather than the version he’d become through a shitty chain of events that would’ve crushed a lesser man.
I slumped back down into the seat, the fight going out of me. He moved around confidently, untying all the ropes except one and stowing them in hatches on deck. It was a sleek cruiser, but an old one in need of a bit of TLC. He’d started to fix it up, and the differences were beginning to show.
I sighed and Dad stopped what he was doing, coming to sit beside me. “You don’t talk to me anymore, Dad. I wish you would. I wish…. You’re missing out on so much, and I’ve been struggling. I’m so out of my depth. At least you’ve had a baby before. Gracie’s been sick, and up until my friends flew in, I’d had no sleep for a week. Not even a shower because I couldn’t put her down. I could’ve really used your help, but you weren’t even answering your cell.”
I shook my head and closed my eyes. He needed to hear some hard truths about how much time he spent on the boat, but he was grieving too, and it wasn’t his fault that I was miserable. I needed him now though, and Gracie did too.
“Is Gracie okay?” Dad asked softly, guilt lacing his voice. I didn’t want that, didn’t want to upset him. Hell, I just went there to talk.
“She has reflux, so she’s on medicine for it. Doc said to try it for a couple of weeks to see if she grows out of it. Sometimes it goes away pretty quickly. She slept for five hours straight last night, so she’s doing better.”
I looked at him
then, really took him in. He’d lost weight and seemed gaunt, not the strong man I once knew. Tired eyes and lank hair that was a lot grayer too. He’d aged immeasurably in the last year. I suppose I had too. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take out my frustration on you, but nothing seems to be going right. The landlord came over yesterday and served me with eviction papers. He’s selling the house, and I have to be out in just under a month.”
A horrified look crossed my dad’s face, his eyes wide with alarm. “Oh shit.”
“Pretty much. I can’t get a lease without a job, and I don’t exactly have any marketable skills to get one. I’d hoped I’d be able to stay home with Gracie longer before I needed daycare, but that looks unlikely now. I dunno if I can even afford it.” I scrubbed my hands through my hair and groaned, frustration and helplessness warring within me.
“I can go back to work. We have options, we’ve just got to figure out what they are.” When I raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him to continue, he hesitated. “Um….”
I huffed. Yeah, that was as far as I got too. Even if Rick and Mace had given me a chance, an opportunity to make something of myself, I couldn’t take them up on it.
“What else is there, son?” Dad asked, reading me like the open book I apparently was.
“I’m kinda in a relationship too.” I blushed and turned away. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed. I was shy—as ridiculous as that was—to admit that I’d fallen head over heels for them. But then I got a dose of reality. “But I have to end it.”
“What’s his name?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. You wouldn’t have even mentioned you were seeing someone if he wasn’t important to you.” Dad paused, expectantly waiting for my answer.
“Mason and Rick. Well, Riccardo. I’ve been seeing both of them.” I waited for Dad’s reaction but he didn’t flinch. He just looked at me, his expression neutral. I laughed nervously. “Nothing? Surely you have an opinion.”