by Hart, Emma
“Oh no,” Eli breathed, sitting at the kitchen table with apple slices. “Do you had a booboo?”
I grimaced in pain and nodded. “Yep. Opening a box.”
“Opening a box?” Ellie asked, her voice getting higher at the end. “How do you cut yourself opening a box?”
“When your daddy starts shouting in the doorway and scares me,” I answered honestly.
“Oh, Daddy!” Ellie stared at him. “Look what you did to Kawi.”
Brantley froze, plastic tub in hand. “I didn’t do anything. If I knew she had a knife in her hand, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Lies,” I muttered under my breath.
He met my eyes. “Your own fault and you know it.”
“You started it.”
“Who started what?” the twins asked in unison.
“Never mind. Eat your fruit,” Brantley said waving me over to the side. “Rinse your finger off and dry it carefully.”
I did as he said as he basically emptied the contents of a hospital storage room onto the countertop. I was seriously impressed by the amount of Band-Aid’s, bandages, and various other first-aid type bits he had in there.
“Were you a doctor in a past life?” I asked holding the dark red towel around my finger.
“No,” he replied. “I’m a parent in the current one. You’d be surprised how often I restock this thing.”
I glanced at Eli who currently had a scrape on his elbow. “Maybe two weeks ago I would have been. Now? Not so much.”
He laughed, taking the towel. “You’re learning fast. Rest your arm on the counter and I’ll bandage your finger up.”
“I don’t think I’m learning anything,” I said slowly, putting my forearm on the towel. “Everything just makes a bit more sense now.”
“Whatever you say.” He got to work on wrapping my finger.
“What are you doo-win?” Ellie asked. “Upstairs.”
I turned my head to the side and offered her a smile. “I’m building your furniture, actually. I did your closet already. I was about to start your dresser when I cut myself.”
“Oh no! Is my dwesser okay?”
Brantley snorted.
“Perfectly fine. Unlike my finger.”
“You’re the one with butterfingers,” Brantley said, wrapping a bandage around my finger.
“You scared me,” I shot back. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Can you still build my dwesser?” Ellie asked around a mouthful of strawberries.
It was nice to know where her priorities were.
I was fine, not that she cared.
“Yes, I can still build your dresser,” I replied as Brantley taped my finger. “Amazing. You can do that, but not build a bookshelf.”
He sighed, dropping his head back. “I could build it if I had to. But, I don’t have to. You do.”
“I think you’re lying.” I admired his handiwork on my finger before crossing my arms and ultimately wincing as I put pressure on my cut.
“Daddy can’t build wego,” Eli said. “He twied to build a castle for Ewwie but couldn’t.”
“Okay, first,” Brantley waggled his finger at Eli, “There were bricks missing.”
“I stole dem.” Ellie grinned.
Brantley flicked his gaze to her. “Exactly. And second, I can build Lego, I just choose not to.”
“Because you can’t?” I offered.
“Don’t you have something to do?”
“Mandatory break,” I replied.
“On what grounds?”
“My finger really, really hurts.”
He stared at my hand, then shook his head. “I don’t know how to argue with that, so I’m not going to. I’m going to say okay and leave it at that.”
Smart choice. And he said I was the one who was learning fast…
“Can I help you build my dwesser?” Ellie asked, picking up an apple juice box and sipping on it so hard her cheeks hollowed out. Trails of red juice dribbled down her chin from the strawberries.
Brantley hit a button on the dishwasher and closed it. “What happened last time someone tried to help?”
“But, there’s no paint dis time,” she replied.
Ha. Point: Ellie.
“Kali already sliced her finger off. I can only see this ending badly.”
“I didn’t slice my finger off. It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch that won’t stop bleeding.”
“Oh my god, you’re so pedantic. Whatever.”
He burst out laughing. “You’re feisty today. Is it that time of the month?”
“You know damn well it isn’t.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not taking this. I’m going to work.”
More laughter followed me as I made my exit, and I realized that was exactly what he was trying to get me to do.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Well played!”
Again, laughter.
“Ellie! Let’s go!” I called, waving my hand toward her.
“Yes!” She threw her tiny fist into the air and jumped off her chair, scrambling after me as I headed upstairs.
***
Ellie tipped a tiny bag of the screws into her hand. Holding it out, she picked one screw off her palm and handed me it.
“Thank you,” I said.
Apparently, four-year-olds liked screws if it meant they could help. Organizing all of them had kept her amused for the entirety of this build—she’d taken them all out, sorted them into piles, and then put them back in bags.
“Kawi,” she said, watching me as I screwed together a drawer.
“Yes?”
“Do you wike my daddy?”
I paused mid-screw. That was a loaded question. “What do you mean?”
She shifted, then tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Are you fwiends?”
“Sure. We’re definitely friends.”
“Are you fwiends who kiss?”
I blinked at her. This was not a conversation I’d ever pictured myself having. “Why do you ask?”
“’Cause he waughs wots now, and I know he doesn’t have any fwends.”
I tightened the screw, then set down both the completed drawer and my screwdriver.
This was one observant child.
And I had no idea how to have this conversation with her.
“Have you asked Daddy this?”
She shook her head. “I don’t wanna make him sad.”
“Why are you asking me?” I said it gently, because I genuinely wanted to know.
“Daddy was sad. Den we moved here.” She dropped her eyes and played with the screws in her hand. “Den you came. And now Daddy is happy. And, and, sometimes, when I’m sad, Daddy kisses me and den I’m happy again. So, I fort maybe you kissed Daddy and made him happy again.”
Wow.
Kid logic.
Pretty accurate, actually.
Shit.
I took a deep breath and slowly let it go again. How was I supposed to answer that? How was I supposed to answer it in a way that she wouldn’t take it and come up with some wild scenario?
Because, yes, I had kissed Daddy—and a whole lot more—and he’d already told me that I made him feel happy. But explaining that to Ellie when she obviously had some kind of hope for something would not be easy.
Maybe it shouldn’t even be explained at all.
“I like your dad very much,” I said slowly and carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I’m the reason he’s so happy. Maybe he really likes it here in your lovely new house.”
She shook her head, her curls bouncing. “No. He waughs a wot wiff you.”
“Maybe he thinks I’m funny. Like you think that dog on that TV show that’s really clumsy is funny.”
She looked up, a hint of a grin on her face. “Marshall is funny when he cwashes into the elevader.”
“Right? See, maybe that’s how Daddy thinks I’m funny.”
The smile slowly dropped from her face, and she nodded
. “Okay.”
I moved the drawer to the side and grabbed two pieces to start the next one. She was already handing me a screw. I took it and paused. There was something else bothering her.
“Ellie?” I said softly. “Is there something else?”
She looked up and met my eyes. “All the udder kids at Summer’s house have a mommy.”
Oh, boy.
“Yes, they do,” I said carefully.
“But, my mommy is an angel.” She frowned. “Do you fink I can have anudder?”
Oh.
Boy.
I started screwing. “Well, maybe. That’s sometimes how it works. Did you know that my mommy is an angel, too?”
“No. When did she gwow wins?”
“I was five,” I said, taking the next screw. “I was very sad, but when I grew up a little bit, my daddy met someone else, and now she’s my step-mommy.”
“Does she do fins like bwaid your hair and paint your nails and help you pick pwetty dwesses?”
“She used to. I’m an adult now, but she did, yeah.”
“Do I had to wait until I’m big for a new mommy?”
“That’s up to Daddy, I guess. He has to find someone who makes him happy and who loves you and your brother.”
“Like you mate him happy?”
“Kind of like that.” I stopped. “Maybe you should finish this conversation with Daddy. He will probably have more answers than me, okay?”
She frowned again, but she nodded in agreement anyway. Thank god—that was rapidly approaching a line of questioning I had no answers for.
If I didn’t stop, I knew she’d connect things. And the very last thing I wanted to do was to break her heart.
Because I wasn’t even sure if I’d accepted how I felt about Brantley yet.
***
“Man, that escalated quickly,” Jayda said when I was done explaining everything that had happened. She tore off a piece of naan bread and tilted her head to the side. “Did she ask Brantley anything?”
I shrugged, dipping my own bit of naan into the sauce on my plate. “I don’t know. She hung around until we’d finished building, then disappeared. I put up a couple of shelves and left quickly.”
“Wasn’t it awkward?”
“I don’t think he heard, honestly. When I was done, he was on a work call, so I just motioned that I had to leave and came here.” I nibbled on the bread, then put it down and reached for my wine. “It’s all…Shit, I don’t know, Jay.”
“It’s all fucked up,” she finished for me.
“Basically.” I sighed and leaned back on the sofa.
She cradled her wine glass against her, nestling herself into the corner. “Are you only feeling like this because you see him literally every day, though? Like, when you’re done next week, how often are you going to see him?”
That was a good point.
“And is he even someone you’d consider dating if you hadn’t met him like this? No. Because of the kid thing. And the only reason you’re in this situation is because you know and like his kids.”
“You’re the one who told me to screw him, remember?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t know you had feelings for him.”
“Neither did I until he fucked me seven ways to Sunday.”
She snorted. “Funny how that happens.” She rested her glass on her thigh. “I mean, think about this, Kali. If you acted seriously on the way you’re feeling right now, literally everything in your life will change. You wouldn’t be stepping in to babysit because he’s desperate. The kids would become your responsibility. Are you ready for that?”
“You assume I’m going to tell him that I have feelings for him.”
“Well, that’s the first thing you need to decide.”
“I love it when you state the obvious,” I said dryly. “I don’t even know how I feel. Are you right? Maybe. Maybe it’s just because I see him every single day right now. I don’t know.” I leaned my head against the sofa. “I need to figure it out.”
Jayda nodded, almost grimacing as she did. “And you need to do it quick. Is it just attraction, or are you falling for him?”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“You’re welcome.” She grinned. “One thing you could do is go on a date and see how you feel about it then.”
I winced. “I haven’t checked the app for days.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I haven’t had a chance!”
“Because you’ve been getting drilled against a wall?”
I sighed. “Shut up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I swept the pencil across the wall, using my phone as a reference for what the Superman logo looked like. I’d spent the last hour drilling and putting up shelves in Eli’s room. The floor was coated in dust from the drilling, but I couldn’t be bothered to clean it up just yet.
I used my spirit level to make sure the lines were straight for the outside of the logo. The gold writing on the pencil read ‘Don’t be a twat,’ and kept catching my attention as it glinted in the light.
Nobody really needed twenty pencils that read ‘Don’t be a twat,’ but I had them, thanks to my mom.
It was a good motto to live by, to be honest.
The silence of the house was welcome as I sketched onto the wall. The logo was simple, but the straight lines were killers. Still, I got it done after about half an hour of drawing, and moved to paint.
I didn’t get to do this often, and it was nice. Nice to break away from the noise and occasional tediousness of my job.
I loved what I did, but there was only so many times you could do something before you got tired of it. I felt that way about painting in general, so doing the Superman logo was fun.
I’d just finished the red when the front door opened and then shut again. The twins were at daycare, and since I’d skipped out last night to go to Jayda’s, this would be the first time we were alone since…well, yeah.
I kinda hoped he wouldn’t come up and talk to me, but I knew him better than that.
No sooner had I thought that than I heard him on the stairs.
I bent down and dipped my brush into the yellow paint.
“Hey,” he said from the hallway. “You’re not holding a knife today, are you?”
“Ha. You’re funny,” I replied, getting excess paint off the brush. “Just a paintbrush today.”
“Am I interrupting a private concert?”
“I’m never going to live any of this down, am I?”
Brantley finally stepped into the room with a wolfish grin on his face. “No,” he said. “Not even close.”
I sighed and started painting again. “So unfair.”
“How is your finger today?”
“Painful, but it stopped bleeding. Just a normal Band-Aid today.” I wiggled my fingers in his direction.
He nodded slowly. “Good.”
I got more paint on my brush and carried on. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and the silence was both comfortable and awkward. How that was possible I didn’t know, but I did know that I didn’t mind being around him in silence.
“Do you want to get lunch today?”
I froze. “Just lunch, or…like a date, lunch?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter? Lunch is lunch.”
“In a restaurant?”
“The Coastal? Sure.”
“We’d be more likely to keep our clothes on.” Welp. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Brantley considered this. “I can order in.”
I waved my hand at him. “Stop that. I’m working, and I’m determined to get finished on time so they can have their rooms in a few days.”
He glanced around. “Are you really almost done?”
I nodded. “I just have to build the rest of the furniture, mostly. Oh, and put up the curtain poles.”
“Wow.” He cast his gaze over the room. “That’ll be weird when you’re done. I’m used to having
you here.”
I smiled. “You’ll like it even more when I’m not.”
He didn’t respond, just inclined his head slightly in my direction. “So, lunch? Here or out?”
I twisted my mouth to the side. “Whenever. I planned to stop in an hour.”
“Do you have time limit for lunch?”
“Not really. I’ll just stay a bit later.”
He bobbed his head. “Let’s go out. I’ll call the Coastal and see if Marcie can save us a table.”
“Sounds good.” I smiled, and he returned it right before he turned and left.
My brush hovered over the wall.
Was it a date?
Damn it.
***
The roar of the restaurant was loud. Apparently, there was some competition down on Rock Bay beach and the Coastal had picked up all the people who’d turned out for it. Every table was full, and I was definitely glad that Brantley had called ahead. We’d been able to walk right in and go to our table, passing the people in the front foyer who were waiting for one themselves.
Marcie eyed with me raised eyebrows, a look that told me she wanted to know everything as soon as she possibly could. She put our coffees down and, with one last glance, excused herself to another table.
Brantley’s lips twisted in amusement. “She’s not very subtle, is she?”
I grimaced. “About as subtle as a nuclear bomb.”
He laughed quietly, opening the sugar packets she’d brought and pouring a couple into his coffee. “How much do you want to bet she’s going to call your mom and tell her we’re both here together?”
“Fifty says she’s already on the phone.” I snorted. “Whatever. People are already talking. It doesn’t matter.”
“It really bothers you, doesn’t it? The gossiping.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” I questioned, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. I’m used to it. I do wish people could keep their nose out of my business, though.”
“I guess I’m still at the stage where I’m charmed by this small town and all its little idiocies.”
“Little idiocies.” I laughed, finally pulling my mug toward me. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“Well, they are. They’re kind of charming, in a really weird way. The gossip is…unusual, to me. I’m not used to everyone knowing everything.”
