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Right as I make it to the front door to leave, I call out to Mom, “We’re heading out now. Not sure when we’ll be back, but I’ll let you know.”
“Well, now, hold on a minute,” she says as she hurries to the front. “I want to know how it went last night. None of my usual tricks worked, and both of them have been through the wringer. Were you able to get the baby settled? And what is James like? He’s always so quiet and reserved, and I end up doing all the talking.”
I have to laugh at that because she’s like that with everyone. Dad and I like to joke that she’s “never met a stranger”, and she can talk the ear off anyone willing to listen. That’s partially why there are always so many people at our house, what with all the friends she’s able to make so easily. It’s a wonder she hasn’t roped James into coming to one of our barbecues or holiday parties before now.
I double-check the time on my phone. Her chattiness and nosiness are usually cute, but not when I’m running late. I told James I’d be over at 3:30, but I should have known better than to expect I’d be able to get in and out of my house so quickly. Mom’s not going to be happy about me leaving without, at a bare minimum, a little tidbit of information to hold her over.
“Yes, I was able to help Grayson settle and fall asleep. He was breastfed, so he’s having a difficult time transitioning to bottles and formula,” I tell her. What I absolutely am not going to do is share that I breastfed him myself, and that’s how I got him to fall asleep. Mom might seem like a bit of a hippy with her long, bohemian-style skirts and a generally laid-back personality, but I know even she would be displeased by that kind of information.
“Oh, I know all about how tough that can be.” She smiles at my baby brother, who she’s cradling while she breastfeeds, swaying side to side while we talk. “Were you able to get him to take a bottle, then?”
I make a non-committal noise that she takes as a yes. I don’t want to outright lie to her, but again, there’s no way I can share what I’ve done without her taking issue with it.
“Well, that’s great. What about James? How’s he holding up?”
“I think he’s really overwhelmed by it all right now, but he’s trying his best.” I pull my phone out again, making a show of checking the time. Shoot, it’s already 3:45. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really have to go.”
“You’re taking Lainey?” She stops swaying, and her brows crease slightly.
“Well, yeah. She’s my daughter. And he said it would be fine if I bring her. I made sure of it before agreeing to babysit.”
“I don’t know about this. Maybe you should leave her here until you get to know him better.”
“Mom, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I don’t get enough time with her as it is.”
“Ok, if you’re sure…”
“We’ll be fine.” And then I hit her with what I know will do the trick and get us out the door. “I’ll tell you more about them when I get back.”
Her expression relaxes, and she smiles with a twinkle in her eye, as I knew she would. “Well then, don’t let me keep you. Have fun.”
Chapter 5
James
I pace by the front door, the same as I did last night. Shayla’s car is parked in her driveway, but she’s almost fifteen minutes late coming over, and we’re out of milk. Grayson ate more in four hours than he did all day yesterday, which is a good thing, but it also meant that we quickly ran through the stash of breast milk she gave us this morning. He’s still refusing to drink his formula, even with the new bottles he seems to tolerate, and he’s on the verge of bursting into tears.
I check my phone to see if she sent a text about being late or if she changed her mind. Oh shit, what if all my creepy staring scared her off? I’ll kick my own ass if I’ve made her so uncomfortable that she’s blocked my number and refuses to come back over.
She’s eighteen minutes late now, and I peek through the blinds to check the front for what seems like the hundredth time, hoping to see her crossing the street…and there she is, my angel, dressed in a long-sleeve pink sweater and sexy denim jeans that look painted on her body, with her daughter, Lainey, dressed head to toe in pink ruffles on her hip. She has a mountain of stuff she’s struggling to haul as well.
By the time I have the door open, ready to take the heavy load from her, she’s already stepping onto the front porch. She smiles first at Grayson, then at me as she drops her things down with a grunt just inside the door.
“Hi, James. Sorry, I’m late.”
“It’s no problem,” I lie so she won’t know how I was starting to panic as Grayson grew fussier. I don’t blame him since I was getting fussy too. “Just glad you’re here.” Understatement of the century.
Shayla bounces Lainey on her hip and holds up her hand to make her wave. “Lainey, say ‘Hi’ to Mr. James.”
Her mini-me blows out a wet raspberry, and I laugh for the first time in nearly a week, which in turn makes my angel laugh. It’s the sweetest sound, and I can’t help staring at Shayla like she’s the air I need to breathe, which has become my modus operandi. I trace every feature of her face, how cute she looks when her nose scrunches and her cheeks round when she smiles wide, revealing an adorable, slightly crooked front tooth.
“Trade ya,” she says, and my smile drops when she holds Lainey out for me to take with my free hand and lifts Grayson from the cradle of my other.
Grayson was the first baby I ever held back when I visited my sister in the hospital shortly after she gave birth to my nephew, then again when I came to see her after she initially got her diagnosis. Lainey, though, is a whole different ball game. She’s all squirming limbs, and she yanks at my hair, then giggles.
She really is a near-replica of her mother, and I imagine this is what Shayla must have looked like as a baby. Chubby cheeks, big doe eyes, and a teeny-tiny, nearly white blonde ponytail sticking straight up on top of her head. She claps her hands after tugging on my hair again, and just like that, I’m smitten with the little girl.
After I get Lainey to giggle a few more times by blowing raspberries against her cheek, I tell Shayla, “Grayson is out of milk and—” My words die in my throat when I look up after Grayson goes quiet.
