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Blowing out a breath, I type out a message to Edward and get ready for my walk.
* * *
The anxiety has finally subsided.
It only took around forty minutes, but I got there.
I am finally feeling relaxed and enjoying my walk around the park with Baron. I love the fall season in the city. When the leaves are turning an orange-brown color and it’s not too hot but not too cold. It’s perfect. Coming to a stop outside the Express Café, I turn and look at Edward, who has been silently following me.
“Fancy a coffee? My treat,” I ask.
Edward smiles, and I see the pride in his eyes. He is proud that I am doing this. He is a quiet, pensive man, but he has seen my struggles over the last couple of months. “Grab a table, and I will grab the coffee.Mytreat.”
I chuckle. “Deal.”
I give Edward my order of an iced caramel coffee and find an empty table. Taking a seat, I rummage through my diaper bag and find a snack for Baron, who is now wide awake. I started him on pureed food when he was just over six months old, and though I try to make the meals myself, it's not always possible. After doing some extensive research, I found an independent, organic brand of baby foods and snacks that are full of goodness and exactly what I want to feed my little prince–when I can't make it myself.
Pulling out the carrot flavor maize snack, I open the packet and hand him one. He eyes it between his chubby fingers for a long beat before bringing it to his mouth. He hasn’t had this flavor yet, so I am curious if he will like it. His little face scrunches up as he tastes it on his tongue, making me chuckle. It only takes mere seconds before he realizes he likes it, sucking on it until it’s a chewed-up mess. Handing him another one, I grab out his juice, ready for him, knowing in the next few minutes, he will want a drink.
Out of my peripheral, I spot Edward making his way over to us. “Iced caramel coffee,” he says, handing me the drink.
“Thank you,” I say as he takes a seat.
“I forget how big this park is. I can’t remember the last time I walked around here,” he muses.
I nod. “It’s a little over eight hundred and forty acres.”
“Eight hundred and forty-two point six acres. Two point five miles long and zero point eight miles wide to be exact,” he informs me.
My eyes widen in shock at his knowledge. “Wow, Edward. Were you a Central Park tour guide in a former life?” I tease.
He chuckles. “No, I am just a New York history buff. I could tell you facts about most of the famous spots in the city.”
“I will hold you to that on our next walk,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
He smiles, and we fall into a comfortable silence. I give Baron a drink, and once we have finished ours and disposed of our trash, we make our way home.
The moment we are in front of my building, I sigh, feeling much better than I did when I left.
It went better than expected, and now I can’t wait for tomorrow and more of Edward’s trivia.
* * *
We fall into a pattern over the next week. I push Baron around the city with Edward as he reels off facts. I come to find I like hearing Edward’s expertise about the city. We spend hours getting lost, and we visit places I never knew existed. It’s odd being I grew up in New York and I thought I knew the city, but no, I didn’t. Edward is a tomb of knowledge, and I get caught up in it all, soaking it in and learning about the place I call home.
On the eighth day, Mama decides to join us. I am relaxed enough after going a week without being splashed across a magazine that I allow it. Mama was right. I need to stop letting the fear of the unknown dictate my life. My mother should be making memories with her grandson. It was wrong of me to have stopped her in the first place.
“You ready?” I shout toward my father’s office where my parents are.
“Coming, tesoro,” she singsongs back. Not a minute later, she is stepping into the foyer in yoga pants, sneakers, a sweatshirt, a long black coat, and a cap—literally identical to what I am wearing—with my dad not far behind her.
“Where is my favorite grandson?” Papa coos as he steps past me and in front of the stroller.
“He is your only grandbaby,” I deadpan.
My father squats in front of Baron and shoots me a look. “Still my favorite,” he says before speaking gibberish to my son. “Isn’t that right, bambino? Can you say Pop? Pappy is your favorite also, isn’t he?”
Baron squeals and waves his arms around. I roll my eyes. My father isn’t wrong there. Baron loves him. Since I have been back, there have been many times that I have found my son missing from his crib, only to find him asleep in my dad’s arms on the couch or in the rocking chair in his bedroom. They have an amazing bond already, and I am just glad Baron is going to have such an amazing man to look up to.
