“Is that all right?” Natalie asked, snapping me back to reality.
I had no idea what she said before that.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that.” I felt like a fool because I was so consumed with her I didn’t hear a word she said. But it was very late, or early, and I had that on my side as an excuse.
“I don’t have my guest room set up yet. There’s a bed frame but no mattress. So, I’ll bring you some blankets and a pillow to sleep on the couch. Is that okay?” She fiddled with her hands as she spoke.
“This couch is really soft, I should be fine.” I patted the cushion next to me.
“Oh, good. I’ll go grab the sheets and everything.” Natalie turned swiftly away from me, as if she couldn’t wait to be out of the room, and disappeared down the hallway again.
I let out a heavy sigh, resting my head back again. There were moments when I felt like I was making progress, breaking through her barriers to get her to open up to me and let me in. Other times, it felt like I was floundering in the dark with no direction. Tonight was one of those times. It was possible she was angry with me for asking to stay, or just preoccupied with Christopher’s condition. I had to give her a chance to adjust to me being around more. This was brand new for the both of us, living so close together and co-parenting. She needed some time.
I wanted all of her right now, but I would have to be patient.
“Here you are.” Natalie’s melodic and raspy voice filled the room as she set the sheets down next to me on the plush couch.
I nodded, turning around. “Thanks. I appreciate you letting me stay.”
Natalie shrugged. “You didn’t give me much choice, Rhys. I told you we would be okay.”
She stood there staring at me, waiting for a response. I didn’t have one for her, not one she would want to hear. The truth was, even though I did want to be here to make sure Christopher was okay, to give her a break if she needed it, I also wanted to be here with her. I wasn’t ready to go back to San Diego and leave her just yet.
“I need to see it with my own eyes,” I finally said.
She nodded then, closing her eyes for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s selfish of me to assume that you would be okay with the occasional phone call about his condition. I would be going crazy not being able to see him while he was sick.” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, as a truce, before turning around and heading back to the hallway to go to bed. Just as she reached the edge of the family room, Natalie turned back to me. “Stay as long as you need, Rhys. I meant it. Christopher needs you here if you can be here. We both do.” A frown creased her brow as she added the last part.
“Thanks, Nat. I mean that too. I’ve missed so much of his short life already, I don’t want to miss any more.” The fist was back in my chest.
“I know, that’s why I moved out here. You deserve to be with him, Rhys.” With one last nod, she turned and headed down the hallway.
I watched her walk away, fighting the urge to go after her.
* * *
Several hours later, I woke up, the sun slanting through a crack in the curtains and right into my eyes. For a moment, I was disoriented, forgetting where I was. I sat up, looking around, my eyes barely opened. I was on Natalie’s couch. Last night came rushing back—the club, the drinks, and the hospital. I groaned, lying back against the pillow, and threw an arm over my face. My head was pounding at the temples, the result of too much alcohol and not enough water.
Groaning again, I sat back up. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I didn’t know if Natalie or the baby were awake yet. I padded silently to the kitchen, retrieved a glass from a cabinet after only searching briefly, and filled it from the dispenser on the fridge. The kitchen was huge and remodeled, a large marble topped island in the middle surrounded on three sides by cabinets, and opened to the family room. I leaned back against the cool marble, only jumping a little when the edge of it touched my bare back, and guzzled the water.
“Oh!” Natalie’s voice came from behind me and I whipped around.
Her eyes were downcast, firmly on the wood floor. I smirked because I was wearing my boxers and nothing else. She was trying like hell not to look at me, Christopher propped on her shoulder.
“I didn’t hear you get up,” she said, eyes still locked on the floor.
I couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from my chest. Her cheeks pinked but she didn’t look up at me.
“I just got up. I was trying to be quiet, in case Christopher was still asleep.”
“He’s been up for the last hour,” she explained, finally looking up but only towards our son.
My eyes flicked to the time on the microwave over the oven range. It was seven a.m.
“Wow, he’s an early riser.” I pushed off the island to deposit my empty glass in the sink.
“You have no idea. This is late for him and I think it’s only because we were out at the hospital so late. He didn’t even wake up to eat last night and I panicked. I had to make sure he was still breathing.”
Her eyes finally met mine, but I could tell that she was struggling to keep them focused on my face and nowhere else.
“You should have woke me up,” I said as I ambled slowly towards her.
“After I put my hand on his chest and felt it rising and falling, I was okay, but just barely. I kept startling awake after that.” She waved a dismissive hand and I wondered how many nights she stayed up with Christopher, worried he wasn’t breathing.
The guilt began to seep into my gut again, burning like acid reflux. Would I never be free of it? I didn’t think so.
“Shit, Nat. I really wish you had woke me up.”
She shook her head, looking away from me again to putter around the kitchen. I watched as she pulled a clean bottle from the dish drain before grabbing a large tub of formula out of the pantry, dumping in a scoop, and made her way over to the fridge to fill it with water. She did all of this with one hand, Christopher still propped on her shoulder.
“I’m used to it,” she finally answered me as she filled a small pot with water and flicked the gas on underneath it.
“I’ll go put a shirt on and take him.” I felt lost, out of my element. Here she was, Super Mommy, while I stood around like an asshole just watching her do everything with one hand.
I rushed back to the family room, grabbed my now ripe shirt from last night, and with a slight sniff of disgust at the smell, threw it over my head. Natalie was still doing her best to ignore me, her back to me as she fiddled with the bottle for Christopher. The whole situation was so much awkward as it was new and unusual, at least for me.
“Here, I’ll take him.” I approached her, tapping her on the shoulder.
She whipped around, almost as if she had forgotten I was there, looking flustered.
“Sure, okay.” Setting the bottle down on the counter for a minute, she placed Christopher in my arms before picking the bottle back up. She flipped the bottle around as I watched with confusion, tapping out a tiny bit from the nipple onto her wrist.
“What are you doing?”
Natalie laughed, finally meeting my eyes. “Testing to make sure the bottle isn’t too hot.”
“Hmmm, I don’t think I would have thought about that,” I said, trying to give credit where credit was due.
She waved a hand dismissively. “You would have figured it out eventually, just like I did.”
“I’m not so sure of that. You really have this parenting stuff down. I can’t even manage to stay sober on a night that you need me.”
I dropped my eyes, looking at the hardwood under my feet as I patted Christopher’s back while he sat perched on my shoulder.
“In your defense, you didn’t know that I would need you.”
I could hear the humor in her voice, so I looked up. She was smirking at me, holding the bottle in her outstretched hand.
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t drink at all anymore. Besides, I was only drinking in the first place so
that I didn’t have to think about you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I froze, my hand on the way to hers to grab the bottle, the tips of my fingers brushing hers ever so slightly.
“What? Think about me?” We stood there, eyes locked, barely touching, frozen in time as the words sank in.
“I mean, uh…” I was spinning, my still sleep and hangover-fogged brain unable to come up with anything to add. Finally, I just shrugged because, at that point, nothing I said would have made a difference.
I took the bottle from her hand and turned around to head towards the couch in the family room. Sinking down, I positioned Christopher in the crook of my arm, popped the bottle into his mouth, and looked back up at Natalie.
Her hazel eyes were fixed on me, her brow creased with confusion. And something else.
“I thought we made a deal, Rhys.” Her voice came out so soft it took a minute for all her words to register.
“We did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it.” I balanced Christopher’s bottle with my chin to keep it in place so I could show her both of my hands, surrendering. “Just friends.”
Some of the tension in her face seemed to settle and she let out a loud sigh.
“Everything is so complicated right now. I just don’t want to make it worse. For anyone,” she went on to explain.
I felt like I had to convince her I wasn’t trying to go back on our deal, especially since I was staying with her for a week, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I was trying to forget about her when I was at that club. I did want more than what she was offering. But for now, I would take what I could get.
“I understand, Natalie. You don’t have to explain it.”
She nodded, clearing her throat and smoothed the front of her wrinkle free t-shirt. I watched her with curiosity, waiting to see if she would retreat from me while I sat feeding our son on her couch. She surprised me when she walked forward tentatively. Sitting in the armchair opposite the couch, she tucked her feet up underneath of her and folded her hands in her lap.
“I’m thinking of starting my own small PR firm out here for budding artists in the industry, focusing mostly on the music industry. What do you think?”
She unfolded and refolded her hands in her lap before resting them again on the tops of her bare knees. It took a lot of restraint to pull my eyes away from her trim thighs, especially since the cotton shorts she was wearing were riding up. But when I did finally focus on her face again, I could see the anxiety there as she waited for me to answer her. Why she cared so much about what I thought didn’t make any sense. Natalie was an expert in the PR industry, groomed by one of New York’s top PR agents.
“That sounds like a great idea. You’re really good at PR, Nat.” I felt the need to reassure her again.
She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her waist now as she slumped in the chair. “I guess. I mean, my dad would have loved nothing more than for me to stay in New York and run his company. But I didn’t like it. I hated the pretentiousness and fakeness of the industry out there. I hated how everyone expected something of me, because I’m Christopher Livingston’s daughter, that I didn’t want to be. I like PR, and I want to help further the careers of artists I really believe in, but not the way I was doing it before. It was a money game—if you could pay then you got the promos—I want to promo people who are actually good at what they do, not the richest people.”
She rounded out her little speech with another shrug, her eyes flitting to me and then down to where her hands worried the hem of her shirt. I wondered, not for the first time, how she was able to keep up the façade of the affected rich girl for so long, when I’d known her for less than a year and could see right through her act the night I met her.
“I get that. I could tell, you know, the first time I saw you in that office, how unhappy you were there.”
“You could?” Her eyes widened and I knew she was wondering who else could tell. Then a small laugh burst between her lips. “My dad raised me, and he couldn’t even tell. How’s that for irony?” She rolled her eyes.
“Sometimes, certain people ignore the things they don’t want to see about others because those things change the view that person has for them.” I popped the now empty bottle from Christopher’s mouth, sitting him up on my knee as I set it on the side table, and began to pat his back to elicit a burp.
Natalie watched me for a minute, deep in thought, with her brow slightly furrowed and her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re right. Dad was always trying to make me into him. He wanted me to be his female equivalent. After my mom died, it got worse. He was working all the time, but never missed an opportunity to tell me which classes I should be taking and where I should apply to college for the best degree. His vision was for me to run his company, his way. I tried so hard, for so long, to please him, but after Christopher, none of that mattered anymore.”
She wasn’t looking at me as she spoke, her mind somewhere else as her voice trailed off. This was the first time she mentioned her mom to me. The first time she really opened up without me prodding her to do so. I wanted to say something, ask a follow-up question, but I was afraid she would shut down again. Natalie was very good at protecting her heart, which was why she came to the conclusion we could only be friends. I wanted to show her how wrong she was. I wanted to show her how it could be if she let herself love me.
“Want me to take him?” she asked suddenly, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Nah, I’m all right. I’ve missed him.”
Natalie nodded. “I think he missed you too. He’s been very content since seeing you yesterday, even with the bronchitis. I know I was resistant to you staying with us for the week, but I really think it will be good for Christopher.”
Besides a nod of agreement from me, we didn’t speak again for a while, instead choosing to sit in comfortable silence as I held the baby. Natalie appeared to be deep in thought, flashing me a weak smile every so often as her eyes drifted to a spot far off in the room. There was so much I wanted to say to her, but I knew it wasn’t the time. She still had so much to learn about herself, and me, that I had to give her time. And right now, time was what I had.
At least for another few days.
30
Natalie
It was strange having another person in the house—I was used to living alone and now used to caring for Christopher by myself. Having Rhys stay with us was a gift and a curse. The wonderful part was getting to see him interact with Christopher, and help me with changings and feedings in the middle of the night. The hard part, the part I was getting increasingly bad at hiding, was the feelings that were developing for Rhys.
After our conversation the day before, I felt different. Rhys was the first person I was honest with about my feelings towards my dad’s company. Even though I told my father I didn’t want to work for him anymore, I still was reluctant to tell him why. But with one look, Rhys pulled the whole thing out of me. I was left reeling afterwards, trying to recalibrate my off-balance emotions. To make matters even more difficult, he was half-naked in my living room every morning, the hard planes of his chest on full display as I walked out to make Christopher a bottle. How was I supposed to ignore him when he was right in front of me?
I stared at my computer screen, giving my head a slight shake to dislodge the image of Rhys in his boxers from again this morning. The fact was, even though I had a good bit of savings, I was going to have to get this business off the ground soon or Christopher and I wouldn’t have a place to live. The mortgage on this house was eating through my bank account, and even though living in Manhattan was expensive, it was nothing compared to LA.
Sighing, I clicked away on the keyboard, typing up the proposal I had been working on for the last week. Nothing seemed right, no matter how many times I reworded it. And, truth be told, I was terrified of falling on my ass with this business endeavor. Before, I always had my father to fall back on—his company, his money. But now, it was just me
—me and a child who depended on me for everything. The ramifications of failure scared the shit out of me. I was hoping my reputation in New York, and a few West Coast clients I reached out to over the last week, would help. Nothing was a guarantee anymore, however, I learned that when Christopher was born early.
When I finished, I read it over, briefly toying with the idea of letting Rhys look over it to see what he thought. He was a musician after all, and that was my target clientele. Something stopped me though as I opened my mouth to call for him in the living room, where he was watching Christopher do tummy time. Would he laugh at me? Would he think this was some silly idea that a spoiled rich girl came up with to redeem herself?
I had to be more confident in my decisions. There was never a time before, when I was running my dad’s PR firm, that I didn’t trust what I was doing. How come now, when it mattered so much more, was I so apprehensive about my choices? Maybe because it was more important for me to do this on my own.
“Rhys?” I finally forced myself to call him into the room.
I heard him talking softly to Christopher, unable to keep a small smile from gracing my lips. Despite everything between us, I loved watching his connection with our son. I could see the love he felt for Christopher and it gave me peace.
“What’s up?” he asked from the doorway, Christopher in one arm with a pacifier in his mouth.
He stood there, casually resting against the doorframe, his exposed biceps bulging at the hem of his gray t-shirt, sandy blond hair carelessly falling over one sky blue eye. The answer caught in my chest for a moment as I watched him, my stomach flipping with this feeling I was unable to characterize without breaking into a sweat. I cleared my throat, averting my eyes towards Christopher to break the spell.
One Song: book two in the one series Page 20