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Of course I can always ignore my deep down feelings and plan a baby shower until I figure out what I want. I stand up, slip into my flip flops and grab my purse. Miranda gives me a weird look. “I’m going to the store,” I announce, happy to be doing something instead of moping around.
“Which store? Because we need more of those forty-five calorie cheese slices.”
“The far away store.”
Miranda lifts an eyebrow. “You never want to go to the far away store.”
“I do now,” I say with a smile. “We need printable invitations, a printer, some plates and napkins and a cake decorating kit and those sparkly party decorations…” I count off items on my fingers and Miranda’s confused expression only gets more confused. “We don’t have enough people to have a baby shower, Aunt Robin.”
“Sure we do,” I say. “My nephew deserves a baby shower.” Miranda smiles, biting on her lower lip in the process. “You’re really nice to me, you know.”
I shake my head. “I’m just being an aunt. Are you coming or not?”
“Can I stay here instead? You can surprise me with the stuff you get?”
“Sure.” I swallow. Shopping away my anxiety and worries is always easier when I have someone with me. But I’m a big girl and I can handle it. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“Forty-five calorie cheese slices.”
I nod. “Got it.”
My mind tries to recall all the baby showers I’ve been to in my life and what kind of dumb games were played as I skip down the porch steps and head toward my car. I want this to be a fun party for Miranda, even if we don’t have many guests. When I brought up the idea of throwing a baby shower to Maggie a few nights ago, she immediately shot down the idea, cursed me a new one through text message, and told me that no teenage mother should be rewarded with gifts for getting knocked up out of wedlock.
So yeah, I guess I won’t be inviting her.
I fully support Miranda’s decision to keep her mom out of her life. I know there’s probably a ton of other people who would say we’re being awful and we should keep trying to win over Maggie and keep trying to bring the family together, but honestly, if I had been treated that way by my own mother I would have left, too. Maybe I’m just as bad as Miranda is. I don’t care.
The Chevy across the street doesn’t even catch my attention at first. I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don’t notice that Tyler is at the other set of duplexes. Shirtless. Wearing holey jeans that are a little too tight with black boxers just barely peeking out of the top of his waistband. It’s not until Marcus yells my name from the front porch of the other duplex that I look up and notice him and Tyler.
And God, do I notice Tyler.
He’s carrying a box of ceramic tile over his shoulder. The weight of the box makes his muscles taunt, stretching across his back and shoulders as he walks from the bed of the truck toward the porch and pack, unloading box after box. Movement catches my eye and I notice Marcus walking toward me with a smile on his face. “Hey there, stranger!”
I open my car door, toss my purse inside and then close it again. “Hey, Marcus. What’s up?”
“Want to come over?” he says, tossing his head back toward the other side of the street. “Say hi to Tyler?”
“No. What? Why?” Words tumble fast and stupidly out of my mouth and I finally find the sense to shut up. I shake my head. “I mean, um, tell him hi for me, okay? I’m kind of busy.”
Marcus shoves his hands in his jean pockets and gives me a look that’s almost exactly like Miranda’s when she’s calling me stubborn. “I think you should come say hi,” he repeats. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around my elbow. “Come on.”
I don’t hold back or try to get out of his grasp because I totally, definitely, absolutely want to see Tyler. Call it exposure therapy or finding closure or something, but I need to see him. I have to break this weird silence that’s stretched on for the last week since I went on that stupid fake date with him. At least if he gives me the cold shoulder then I’ll know to give up and get over him.
I’m weirdly confident as I step across the road and onto the driveway of the other duplex. I walk straight and with a slight casual sway to my steps, like this isn’t a big deal and this isn’t anything to freak out about. Tyler walks out of the wide open front door, sees Marcus and I walking toward him and stops. Our eyes meet and all of that confidence I had slips out of my pores and evaporates into the air.
And then he smiles.
A cold wave of nausea floats around in my stomach but I think I smile back. God, he’s gorgeous. Why does he have to be shirtless?
Who am I kidding, I want him to stay shirtless. I want to burn every shirt he owns and forbid stores from selling him new clothing.
“Look who I found,” Marcus says with a heavy dose of arrogance and…snark? “I think I left my phone inside,” he adds, hopping up onto the porch and ducking past Tyler to get inside the house. But that was just a lie because his phone was in his back pocket. I could see the lump.
“Hey there,” Tyler says. He must realize that he still has work to do because he starts walking toward his truck again. I follow. “Hey. Marcus told me to come say hi.”
“T
hat boy is weird.” Tyler heaves another box of tile over his shoulder. I reach for the next box, bending over the lowered tailgate and stretching for it. My hands wrap around the box, but when I pull, nothing happens. Tyler laughs. “Be careful. That’s heavy.”
