When it came to Emma, obviously, they were of the same mind. Relieved and glad the surgery was behind them and happy about the progress of her recovery. But apart from that, and asking what the man wanted to eat or making sure Samantha and Wyatt didn’t jar him too much when they were spending time with him, he had basically been avoiding him.
Which was a feat in itself, seeing as they lived in the same house and were raising three kids together. It was never more apparent than the times they’d had to go to the weekly doctor check-ups together. He was ashamed to admit he was using his daughter as a buffer.
Every time they had to go to the doctor’s office, Nathaniel felt like he was holding his breath till they exited with a clean bill of health and no rejection in sight. He envied Tristan for his surety, or was it just unshakeable faith? Whatever it was, he envied the man.
At their last appointment, when Nathaniel had been on the verge of biting his nails clean off, something he hadn’t done since he was an anxious teen in a group home, Tristan had said, “Calm down, Nate. She’s half Shay. She’s too stubborn to reject that liver.”
He would never admit it, but what had actually distracted him more than the words, not that he didn’t love Tristan teasing him because he did. It made him feel like they were close enough for that. But that wasn’t why he’d gotten warm and fuzzy. It was the fact that Tristan had called him Nate; it felt like a sign of intimacy, one he had never experienced. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.
To be truthful, he’d had enough of worrying. He was determined to take a page out of Tristan’s book and have faith that Emma was good. Full stop… he wouldn’t let his mind flash to worst-case scenarios every second of every day, but he knew it was easier said than done. He would start small by telling himself daily that Emma was healing nicely and getting stronger.
He knew a lot of his reticence with Tristan was fear. He was worried that Tristan would disappoint him just like everyone else had done, which wasn’t fair to him, but it was the truth.
He knew Tristan was paying for everyone else’s mistakes, but he also knew he couldn’t just jump into something head first now without considering all of the variables. This time the stakes were higher. It wasn’t just his heart on the line.
So yeah, he had put up more than one roadblock to Tristan’s attempts to make conversation that had nothing to do with Emma and Samantha or how Tristan’s recovery was going.
Intellectually he knew with relationships there was no guarantee it would succeed and thrive. People were people after all, and it was well within their ability to change at the drop of a hat. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to ask Tristan to swear, to pledge that he wouldn’t let Nathaniel down, but he also knew that wasn’t something he could do. So until he could deal with the anxiety he was feeling, avoidance was the name of the game. He would have had to be blind to miss Tristan’s subtle hints about wanting to talk and the mix of passion and tenderness in his eyes whenever he looked at Nathaniel.
Then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking on his end.
In bed, at night, he allowed himself to recall every detail of the kiss with Tristan and imagined where it would have gone if it had happened in a different setting without the anxiety of impending surgery and their daughter sleeping not three feet away.
Every time he remembered the kiss, his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat, and he knew he wanted a repeat. Fuck! He hoped his mixed signals hadn’t put Tristan off completely. He was such a hot mess.
He looked over at Samantha doing a kids puzzle and Wyatt in his playpen, and realized that he couldn’t let fear dictate his actions. That wasn’t what he wanted to teach his children. He loved getting to know Samantha. She had all the good parts of him but none of the hang-ups, and that was all Tristan’s doing.
She was a wonderful child, and he was proud to be her father. She was so well behaved, thoughtful, and fearless, and there was this air of freedom and ease that he knew she wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for the other man's influence.
He loved how careful and gentle she was with Emma after both he and Tristan had explained to her as best they could about her surgery. And she absolutely adored Wyatt.
He knew he should be over it by now, but whenever he saw her holding her brother or playing ever so gently with him, he couldn’t help but catch his breath at the resemblance between them. The day he’d had the thought that they should have another child, this time with Tristan as a donor to even the numbers, was when he admitted to himself that he was a little more than just infatuated with Tristan Callahan. He was approaching head-over-heels status. He thought secretly he might already be there.
33
Tristan
So things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. It was a whole month since the kiss, and Nathaniel was behaving as if it had never happened and was treating him like an invalid. It was pissing him off. It was also likely to drive him to drink. Not that he could drink at the moment, and didn’t that little proviso just add to his frustration.
Sure, they had settled into a routine of a sort. Nathaniel was finally chilling out, kind of, sort of, but not really. Of course, there was always a degree of apprehension, and that wasn’t going away for either of them anytime soon. He knew while they waited to see if Emma’s body accepted the new liver they would be on constant alert. But so far so good. He had taken to projecting calm and confidence. Honestly, Nathaniel stressed enough for the both of them.
Even with Emma out of the hospital, she had to have blood tests to check for rejection weekly. She was so brave. He saw Shay in her more and more. The “fearless take life by force” attitude was pure Shay bullheadedness.
Truth be told, he was more worried about Nathaniel than he was about Emma. The poor guy looked like he was in pain every time they stuck Emma with a needle, but he knew but they were a necessary evil.
He was prepared for the anxiety in the foreseeable future. He was also prepared to be Nathaniel’s anchor, his calm in the storm, a safe place to fall if only the man would just let him.
For him, things were slowly returning to normal... Sure, the soreness under his ribs still caught him once in a while, but he was putting up with it. He had to. He refused to do the most with the pain pills. His mother was what he thought of as a functioning drunk and pill popper. Not that you could tell behind the pearls, Chanel suits, and immaculate makeup.
He wasn’t sure if it was genetic, but it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. He also couldn’t help noticing how wary Nathaniel was whenever the man saw him taking his pills. Honestly, you would think the man thought the pill would sprout wings and devour him. There was a story there, that was for damn sure.
He couldn’t get over how a whole month had gone by since their shared kiss in the darkness of Emma's room before the surgery. Like something had to give.
They hadn’t kissed again, and Tristan wondered if Nathaniel was as caught up as he was. He hoped the man thought about it. Because he sure as shit had. The magnetic attraction between them was wholly unexpected... But very, very welcome.
He was going to die of high blood pressure or whatever it was that came with being super horny. At this point he was sure Nathaniel would only hear the “blood pressure” part and travel down a WebMD rabbit hole, taking no notice of Tristan's permanent hard-on.
Being around Nathaniel day in day out was driving him insane, the images his mind conjured up of making love to him. Yeah! They were definitely going to rush him to the hospital for his blood pressure and maybe brain damage from lack of proper blood flow, due to a permanently erect cock.
He just had to get Nathaniel to stop treating him like a patient and stop using the kids as a buffer whenever he tried to take the conversation in a more personal direction. He couldn’t fault how meticulously Nathaniel took care of him. In fact, he never had to worry about a thing. Nathaniel was always there to take care of everything, and it was driving him crazy. He didn’t want Nathaniel to take care of him out of
some misguided sense of obligation.
Nathaniel had told his staff he wouldn’t be available unless it was a “the building is on fire” kind of emergency. He remembered the man’s blush when he said, “I want to spend time with you… I mean the kids, and help you while you recover.”
He thought Nathaniel was super adorable. Yeah sure, the man was older than him, but he was so reserved, Tristan knew it was up to him to make the next move. Time had come to kick his plan into action. Granted, he wasn’t back to a hundred percent, but why let a little thing like that stop him.
He needed to make a move now! He spent way too much time imagining what he would do to Nathaniel if he ever got the man to spend more than five minutes in his presence without kids. Time to stop imagining. His right bicep was likely to have better definition than his left at this rate.
He looked over at Nathaniel where he was sitting facing Wyatt in his high chair. He let his gaze travel over him, and despite having the kids between them, desire pooled low, tightening his stomach. Nathaniel caught him staring and looked at him questioningly. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He smiled almost shyly, using his free hand to wipe at his face.
Tristan smiled, emotions tying knots in his throat, and he was suddenly unable to speak. He cleared his throat and forced the words out, “Nothing. There’s nothing on your face. You’re perfect.”
Nathaniel stared at him quizzically for a few seconds, but he must have seen something on Tristan’s face because his eyes softened, and he gave Tristan a small smile that had his heart constricting in his chest. The more time he spent with Nathaniel, the more it confirmed his assessment of the man. He was kind and compassionate. It didn’t hurt that he was attractive as fuck and brave, and smart and … sexy…so unbelievably sexy.
He needed to get some space; he felt like he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and that would not be a problem if he could just get a read on Nathaniel and how he felt about them. He laced his fingers together and cradled his head. Closing his eyes, he willed the throbbing hard-on to die down… but he knew that was an exercise in futility. Till he sunk his cock into Nathaniel, his hard-on was pretty much a permanent fixture.
He stood up abruptly and winced when Samantha and Emma looked up at him in surprise. He knew he was acting strangely, but he couldn’t help it. The weird limbo they were in was driving him insane. He needed to have a talk with Nathaniel. If this thing between them was one-sided, he needed to know. Now.
He so needed to work out all the excess energy he had from sexual frustration. He was fucking horny and five seconds away from ripping Nathaniel’s clothes off and fucking him on the first flat surface he could find.
He looked at the empty plates on the table and said to Nathaniel, “You handle bath and story time tonight. I’ll tidy up down here and put everything away.”
He probably looked like a crazy person to Nathaniel if the look of confusion in his eyes were to be believed. Plus, he had just dismissed the man with three kids to bathe and put to bed. He just needed some alone time though.
His voice must have brooked no argument because he heard Nathaniel say to the girls, “Come on, girls. Bath time.”
It thrilled him that Samantha so easily went with Nathaniel, but he also loved that Emma came up beside him and said, “Come.”
“Not tonight, sweetie. Let Daddy do it.”
“No. You come too,” she said insistently.
Nathaniel must have known or seen that Tristan needed a timeout, so he said, “He can’t, baby girl. Come on, let’s go. He’ll come kiss you good night once you are clean and snug as a bug in a rug up in bed.”
Luckily that seemed to appease Emma. He was glad because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could say no to her with those big, green, Shannon eyes looking up at him.
As they walked into the hall towards the stairs, he heard Nathaniel say, “You have to have a bath and get your pajamas on. Then I’ll read you any story you want.”
He wasn’t sure which of the girls he was talking to, but Tristan knew he wanted more of this. More of them as a family. More of them sharing parenting duties. No more of this platonic shit. He wanted more for them.
Nathaniel didn’t know it yet, but his running days were over Tristan determined as he tidied the kitchen and put the leftovers away.
34
Nathaniel
Nathaniel was worried. Tristan so wasn’t acting like himself. The man loved the bath and bedtime routine as much as he did. They had even bickered a few times in the past month whenever Tristan tried to get in on helping with bath time, while he was still sore and healing. Now, suddenly, the man was sending Nathaniel off for bath and story time alone. Nope! All was definitely not well with his co-parenting roommate.
But he couldn’t even give the thought his full attention with two wiggly, giggly girls in the bath.
He’d handed Wyatt over to Ms. Bea, which so rarely happened, but his heart or his brain, he wasn’t sure which, was pushing him to rush tonight and go have a talk with Tristan.
The girls were squealing and splashing happily, loving the bath that was more bubbles than bath. So he just watched them, letting them play. He loved the closeness forming between the girls, and he hoped they always had each other’s backs no matter how old they got. The way sisters did, because to him that was what they were.
His two girls. No matter how stressed he got, this right here, his children, could put a smile on his face. Nevertheless, he realized he had been using them as an excuse to stop living his life after the whole mess with Patrick. He’d been hiding. And he had to stop it.
As he focused back on the girls, he realized his mind was made up. He and Tristan were going to talk. He had to take a chance. At least, if it didn’t work between them, he wouldn’t be left wondering what could have been. He knew them not talking so far was all on him, but he just hadn’t been ready before, but now he was.
He looked at the girls playing with their dolls, cars, and boats in the bath and said, “Okay, ladies, soap time and rinse time.”
He was glad the girls had a long day. It would be easy to get them down. Emma had been walking around the house since she got home. The doctor had emphasized how walking every day would help get her stronger. And finally, today, she was strong enough for a walk around the grounds.
Then they had done some coloring before lunch, and they had all then watched The Incredibles together as a family, before dinner. Tristan wanted all of them to go see the new one once Emma’s immunosuppressant doses decreased.
The girls were well and truly worn out, and he knew they would both be asleep once he got them in bed. Then he could finally face Tristan and have the talk he had been dancing around since they got back from the hospital.
He let them splash a little longer before putting an end to bath time. While he was getting the towels, a soft knock came on the bathroom door. For a second he thought and maybe hoped it was Tristan finally joining in on bath time. But when he opened it, it was Ms. Bea telling him, “Wyatt’s settled. I’ll be in my room. You just holler if you need me.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bea, it’s fine. I’ll get these munchkins settled in myself. You can retire for the night,” he said, tickling Samantha and Emma.
They shared a smile, hearing the girls giggling happily. It was good to see Emma almost back to her pre-sickness self. Ms. Bea finally said, “Good night, girls,” and they replied in kind, very loudly and boisterously. He shared another smile with her before she retreated. He found himself thinking that only a bastard wouldn’t smile at how happy the girls were. He liked Ms. Bea. She was great with the kids and didn’t ever overstep. He had never treated her like staff per se, but neither had he let her into the family unit that was him, Emma, and Wyatt. She didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was sure she liked it that way. She lived in and only helped out when he asked her to. It was a cushy position if he did say so himself.
Emma and Samantha were tired enough that they put the bath toys do
wn and let him dry them off. “I sleep with Sammy?” Emma said.
As much as he would have liked to say yes, and as much as he loved the girls being together, he couldn’t let them. He couldn’t run the risk of Emma getting kicked while they slept.
“Get dressed and brush your teeth first,” he replied instead of giving an answer. He would read them their story together and then carry Sammy back to her bed after they had both fallen asleep.
He would never have asked, but he was happy to find the girls’ pajamas laid out. He assumed it was Ms. Bea, but it could just as well be Tristan who’s done that. The man was thoughtful like that. He was no Patrick was the mantra he kept repeating until his scared and bruised heart got the memo.
The man had proven time and again that he could be trusted. He decided then if he could trust Tristan with his children, surely he could do the same with his heart.
Emma was already dragging, and Samantha wasn’t far behind. He rushed through everything, putting Emma in Pull-Ups just because he didn’t want her wandering at night, and decided to do the same for Sammy. They were both potty-trained, but it couldn’t hurt at the moment, he figured.
The girls settled down on Emma’s four-poster canopy bed, waiting for their story with their respective blankies and teddies. He loved this time, and he had to admit to missing Tristan’s presence. Both girls smelled of soap and minty toothpaste. Looking all cute and snuggly in their PJs.
He started on the story, but before he was even halfway through, they had both dozed off. He finished the book just to make sure they were both down for the count. When he finished, he didn’t even have to ask if they wanted another story. Both girls were already snoring adorably. He looked at them for a few minutes, just taking it in. This was his life.
A Family For Keeps Page 18
