Page 35 of After Care

I was assigned to set the table, an extra-large seating arrangement that provided space for everyone. Gage and Ivy sat at one end while Tommy sat as head at the other. I was given a seat next to him while Masie and Caleb blended in the middle. Dinner was a riot of conversation, delicious food and the occasional roll sailing across the table to someone. I was teased by my children that spaghetti was my only specialty, to which Jared and Petty decided I was the perfect match for Tommy, as that was all he cooked.

The comment was said in jest, but my face glowed in shy embarrassment. It implied there could be something more than what we had, but Tommy had already been clear. He was on vacation and wanted to live a little. Matchmaking wasn’t on the docket for this trip. The teasing passed just as quickly as everything else, and dessert consisted of my brownies and vanilla ice cream.

“Cleans the palate,” Tommy said, holding his spoon between his lips just a little too long and staring at me. Wine was in abundance, and I’d definitely had my fair share by the time I stood to help clear the table.

“Tommy cooks, we clean,” the boys chimed together. As a guest, I felt obliged to help.

“Uncle Tommy, can you sing to us before bed?” Ava asked while we were clearing the dishes. I hadn’t realized how late it was, and the girls needed to get to bed.

“We have guests tonight,” Ivy said, smiling up at me.

“Please,” Ava begged, her younger sister echoing her whine.

“Have Daddy sing?” Ivy suggested, to which Gage looked up.

“Yeah, I can sing.”

The girls giggled. “We know Daddy. You’re always singing.” Ava rolled her eyes. “But we want ‘Jelly Belly.’” Emaline clapped after her sister spoke, and her mouth opened in the most adorable surprise.

“'Jelly Belly’” she cheered, and Ava followed in with a rousing chorus of “Jelly Belly! Jelly Belly! Jelly Belly!”

“What’s ‘Jelly Belly’?” I asked at the same time Petty looked to the ceiling and groaned. “Not ‘Jelly Belly.’”

“It’s a song by four probably pedophile guys who couldn’t be a real band, so they sing kids’ songs instead,” Petty answered me.

“Yeah, well, those four guys,” Jared emphasized, “are freaking millionaires.”

“And what are we?” Petty scoffed.

“Close but not quite,” Jared added, and my head shot up in surprise. “Okay, maybe a little bit more.” He laughed as Petty scowled. Looking around, it made sense. They had the penthouse suite for ten days. Each member had their own room somewhere else in the hotel, but millionaires? I was so naïve.

“What makes Tommy singing ‘Jelly Belly’ so special?” I asked the girls, bending at the waist to be on their level.

“Tommy’s voice goes deep, and he makes it deeper,” Ava explained, trying to imitate the sound with a froggy croak. She looked at her uncle, and clasped her hands. Small eyelashes batted and her younger sister followed suit.

“How can you say no to that?” I asked Tommy.

“He won’t,” Ivy laughed. Reaching for Emaline and then scooping up Ava, he proved Ivy correct. Carrying one girl on his hip and the other under his arm, he walked down the long hallway and disappeared. I smiled with pride. He was a good man, maybe too good, and he loved his family, this ragtag group of relatives by blood and choice. It was refreshing to see a man act in this manner.

After a few minutes of clearing the table, and forming a huge pile of dishes on the counter, the soft tenor of a male voice drifted toward the dining room. I stopped, perking up like a deer hearing a hunter in the distance.

“Is that Tommy?” I questioned, my head turning toward the sound. My heart ratcheted up a notch, and my breaths increased. Ivy nodded toward the hallway. “Go listen.”

For some reason, I walked slowly, as if called to the song, lulled by the voice. This wasn’t a song about Jelly Belly, whatever that was, but something deep and sad, like a lullaby. I slowed to a tiptoe, not wanting to interrupt the sound. Pausing outside the door, I peeked around the jamb to see Tommy sitting on Ava’s bed, strumming a guitar. His fingers worked methodically, his eyes watching his fingertips stroke a string and pluck a chord. His voice followed, quiet and confident. A presence behind me made me turn.

“His voice is so beautiful,” I said to Gage, slightly surprised.

“It is,” he said, looking down at the floor. “He’s a master.” My brows pinched, not understanding his meaning, and I turned to listen in again.

“Sing us one of yours,” a sleepy Ava begged, stifling a yawn.

“Not tonight, baby girl,” he said softly, but something must have shown on her face because he started strumming again. Instantly, I recognized the melody. As his voice filled the first line of lyrics, I stepped forward, filling the doorway. My mouth hung open. He sounded so familiar. I mean, he sounded exactly the same as…

“You sound like Lawson Colt,” I muttered, staring at Tommy as his fingers screeched across the strings, coming to an abrupt halt. He turned to look up at me, eyes wide and a little wary.

“Lawson Colt,” I murmured. “Of…of…of Colt45.”

Tommy stood up slowly, but I stepped back, bumping into the wall behind me. I looked from Tommy to Gage as Tommy took a hesitant step toward me.