“He definitely did.” I cuddle him closer. “Smartest baby in the world, aren’t you?”
“He is,” Atlas agrees, scowling. “Gets it from his mama.” Atlas might as well have cartoon heart eyes as he talks about Nora.
The same cannot be said when he turns back to me. “But I promise you, my kid did not say your name before mama or dada.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, man.” I move James to my other hip. He may be a tiny thing, but he’s sturdy as hell. “You gonna have some lasagna tonight?” I ask, using the dumb, dopey baby voice he loves so much.
He nods his head, like he’s agreeing with me.
Nora pipes in, “I made him some green beans, too. They're his favorite.”
“I bet they are. Your green beans are the best. But judging from the delicious scent wafting in from the kitchen, your lasagna might knock them from the top slot.”
Atlas scoffs. “Quit buttering up my bride.” He’s such a bear when it comes to Nora. But I can’t say I blame him, I would be too if I had a woman like her by my side.
“Hey, I'm just calling it like it is, man,” I offer with an unapologetic shrug.
“Maybe she's right. Maybe you do need to settle down. Get you a woman that can cook. Have a kid or two.”
“I'm not in any rush.” I say as James wiggles in my hold. I set him back down on the rug, steadying him with a hand hovering behind his back as he plops down onto his bottom.
“We’re just saying,” Nora volleys back with a smile.
“Also, I’m a damn good cook all on my own, thank you very much.” It’s not much in the way of a comeback, but it isvery fucking true.
I never told anyone, but I briefly contemplated culinary school after high school. But I’m a simple guy, and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt, preparing food for strangers in some fancy restaurant would rob me of any joy being in the kitchen may bring.
Atlas holds up his hands in surrender, but before anyone can say anything else, the front door bangs open, and the woman I’ve been unwillingly losing sleep over barges in like she owns the place.
She's still dressed in her work clothes, pink scrubs she has no business looking so damn fine in, holding a store-bought pie out in front of her like a peace offering.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, rushing into the kitchen to set the pie on the bar. “Traffic was a nightmare. Work was a nightmare. Everything’s—” She catches herself at the last minute. “Sorry.”
“You’re not late, Scar,” Nora replies, as she walks back into the kitchen. “You’re right on time. Is everything okay?”
She is most definitely late, but I guess I’ll give her a pass.
Scarlet smiles but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just one of those days.”
“What flavor pie?” I ask, my nose wrinkling as I take in the box.
“I… I have no clue. Apple, maybe?” She cringes, and I roll my eyes.
But ever the peacekeeper—at least for tonight—I keep my thoughts to myself. I know she has a lot on her plate right now, but damn, she could’ve put in a little effort here.
“Peach.” Atlas glances down at the label as he stalks into the kitchen.
“Could be worse, I guess.” I glance back over my shoulder at James. He’s managed to maneuver himself onto his belly and is trying to inchworm his way across the living room.
“Sorry to disappoint, Officer Jackass.” Her comeback lacks its usual bite, and I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
So, I do what I do best, I push.
“It’s all good, Scar.” I keep my voice light. “Our expectations weren’t terribly high.”
“Of course they weren’t.” She shrugs her purse off her shoulder and heads into the living room, no doubt in search of James. “Hey there, my little angel.”
He smiles and grabs her pant leg, pulling himself to standing.
