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That’s exactly how I was going to introduce myself since James and I haven’t had the chance to talk about what happened between us last night and what that might mean, but the way the group is laughing at him as if the thought of him having a girlfriend is the craziest thing they’ve ever heard is seriously pissing me off. We’ve been traveling all day with two understandably cranky infants, already dealt with a rude biddy who couldn’t mind her own business on the flight over, and now his awful family is testing the limits of my patience.
One of the boys cracks a crude joke under his breath at James’s expense, setting off a chain reaction of barking laughter that startles Lainey. She twists in James’s arms and presses her quivering chin to his shoulder, her little fists clutching his black jacket.
And, yup. That does it.
I step up to James’s side and hold out my hand for his mom to shake. “Hi, I’m Shayla, James’s girlfriend. And this is my daughter, Lainey.”
James’s eyes dart to mine, his brows raised at the lie I told, but he doesn’t correct me. If anything, his shoulders lose some of their tension as he rocks Lainey side to side to soothe her.
After leaving my hand hanging in the air uncomfortably long, James’s mom finally deigns to shake it briefly, though it’s limp, and then she turns on a heel and marches away with Grayson without a word.
I wave to the remaining three, still gawking at us, and pointedly make eye contact with the girl who made the money joke. She and I couldn’t be more different as she stands at least half a head taller than me, and I have to be at least twenty-five pounds heavier than her with what might be my permanent leftover baby weight.
I step forward with a grin and lower my voice so Lainey won’t hear me, but the rest of them will when I say, “It’s not his money I want. It’s his big dick.”
James makes a choked sound and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. The girl gasps and rears back, then immediately flees the mudroom, following after their mom. I smirk seeing the boys with their jaws hanging open, though they quickly recover. There’s a round of back slaps and ribbing about big dicks being a “family trait”.
Ugh, boys.
After they leave, it’s just the three of us left standing by the front door, and it feels wrong. We’re missing our fourth piece of the puzzle, Grayson. I fidget with my hands, my good mood from getting back at his sister vanishing on a dime.
James slides his hand around my shoulders and pulls me flush to his front. He leans down to whisper in my ear, his lips skating the edge of it. “You didn’t have to do that for me. But thank you.”
I circle his waist and turn my face to his, feeling his unusually stubbled cheek slide against my own when I say, “You’re welcome.”
We’re in our own quiet little bubble with Lainey held between us, but the small moment of peace is broken when we hear Grayson start crying from another room. Lainey pokes her head up and whimpers, then points her little hand toward the hallway.
“Come on.” James holds out his free hand, and I take it as I follow him deeper into the house, leaving our things abandoned on the front stoop.
The noise unbelievably grows even louder with each step we take. We pass a dark den stuffed full of men crowded around a massive TV mounted on the wall, and there are at least fifteen people in the kitchen, all talking over each other, with his mom holding court in the middle of the room. It’s obvious they were talking about us since she abruptly cuts herself off mid-sentence and presses her thin lips together when we enter the room.
Grayson continues to cry, and she’s hardly paying attention to him, which breaks my heart. I spin and run back down the hallway to dig through the diaper bag and pull one of Grayson’s bottles out despite my milk letting down already. No one has to tell me that she’d probably go ballistic if I were to nurse her grandson.
Grayson’s hands are balled into fists as he squirms and roots for a breast, and it’s so hard to simply hand over the bottle instead of snatching Grayson and making a run for the airport. He’s not my baby. He is her grandson. She has every right to hold him. He’s not my baby, he’s not my baby, he’s not my baby, I silently chant in my head, though my body isn’t getting the message as my milk starts to leak. Thankfully, my zip-up hides my ever-growing wet bra.
My heart hurts listening to Grayson cry even harder when he sees me, and James’s mom simply turns her back and walks around the massive marble island away from us. I hurt all that much more for James, envisioning what it was like growing up in this house with her for a mother. So dismissive and cold.
I stand there awkwardly, twisting my hands and shifting on my feet as adrenaline courses through my veins the longer she holds Grayson while ignoring him. James is feeling it, too. His expression continues to darken as he watches his mom start up a new conversation with a balding man we haven’t been introduced to yet. She waves the bottle around as she gestures with her hand while she talks instead of feeding her grandson.
I relax a fraction when she finally attempts to feed the bottle to Grayson, but he’s so upset that he won’t take it. I can’t stop myself from inching closer, no matter how hostile his mom has been toward me. Lainey is in full-blown tears now, too, listening to him cry, and I know she’s not going to stop until he does.
No one else speaks to us, but I’m well aware of all the looks they keep shooting our way, their heads bent together as they whisper while his mom continues to hold court. When his mom throws her head back and laughs—which is strange, considering the reason for this gathering—at some punchline of a joke the man makes instead of attending to Grayson, James is done.
“That’s enough,” He snaps, his voice deeper and harsher than I’ve ever heard it.
Shivers skate up my spine, and everyone goes silent except for Grayson. Even Lainey quietens, though fat tears still roll down her cheeks, soaking the neck of her thick, fuzzy blue sweater. His mom slowly turns around to face us, and tension fills the crowded kitchen.
I gladly take Lainey when he passes her to me, wrapping my arms around her to hold her tight and kiss her wet cheeks. “It’s ok, sweetie. Everything’s ok,” I lie in an effort to soothe her, knowing she’s probably scared by the way Grayson is crying.
“Mom, give him to me.” James reaches for Grayson, and she takes a half-step back, bumping into the bald man.
“Excuse me? He is my grandson, and I’ll hold him as long as I want.”
James inches forward, drawing himself up to his full height, and clenches his jaw. “He may be your grandson, but Lauren named me his guardian. You will hand him over so we can feed him and calm him down.”
I can tell she’s taken aback by how he is speaking to her as her eyes widen and her lips part on a puff of air. I’d bet all my babysitting money that she’s used to him backing down when she gets angry.
After a beat, she straightens her spine and scoffs. “Fine. He’s as difficult as your sister was. You deal with him.”
