by Natalie Rios
I’m the Peter Pan of my group and it’s a role I’ve quickly grown to despise.
“You know, last year when my friend Mags told me she was pregnant, I couldn’t even bring myself to congratulate her,” I admit. “There she was, sharing this huge, monumental moment in her life and instead of being happy for her, I was jealous. It’s like, why can’t I have that, you know?”
“You can, Char-” But I’m already shaking my head in denial.
“I can’t, El. Even if I found a guy who could deal with my brand of crazy sauce, what are the odds he can handle the warts? That I’ll even feel comfortable enough to show him those warts?”
“You know, it’s easy to get stuck in your comfort zone and sometimes you need to be pulled out of there kicking and screaming. It might seem harsh, but tough love can be a much-needed medicine. Sharing those warts can help you understand each other better. Bring you closer, even. What I’m trying to get at is, as scary as that leap may seem, you’ll never know what you can handle until you try.”
“The Ice Princess had a heart for Drew to melt?” I tease.
She makes a noncommittal sound, but there’s a sparkle in her eye. Once upon a time, I thought Drew only married Ellie for her money. She’s an heiress with deep pockets and his money-pit of a casino certainly needed the cash flow at the time. But it’s become obvious the two of them love each other. Drew would do anything for Ellie, even if it means facing the wrath of her older brother. Or, worse, her father. And just like that, the “whys” and “hows” of their love story no longer matter.
Lucky sons of bitches.
“Tell me about your new life. I want to hear all about Working Girl Charlotte,” Ellie says, effectively changing the topic.
“I’ll tell you, but first...Can you teach me how to make a cup of coffee?”
“Duck, duck, duck...goose!” The small redhead yells as he pats my head. Ben squeals out a laugh, clapping as he watches his aunt chase after a four-year-old who gives Barry Allen a run for his money.
No pun intended.
Seriously though, I should have no trouble chasing the kid, but he’s a slick little guy. Keeping an eye on Ben at all times makes chasing without crashing into something (or someone), that much harder. But I have to keep an eye on Ben. Not only is he the youngest one in our little group, he’s also the only one related to me.
Which means Drew and Ellie would slaughter me in my sleep if anything happened to him. And if they didn’t do me in, the guilt certainly would. Personally, Option #1 is less painful.
So I wasn’t 100% paying attention to where I was going when I suddenly collided face-first with a solid wall of chest. “Oof!”
“Watch it.” Brody. I recognize his voice, but receive confirmation in the form of his strong arms pulling me away from him. He doesn’t let go, keeping me close as he surveys the scene with confusion. “What’s going on here?”
Stepping back, I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. “We’re playing Duck, Duck, Goose. Obviously.”
He slides me a look. “Obviously. Who are all these children?”
“I’m Michael!” The redhead jumps up from the spot he must have taken sometime after my collision with Brody. “I’m four!”
“Oh, yeah? I’m Brody and I’m thirty-four. That’s old, huh?” Brody says. A wide-eyed Michael nods.
“Too old to play Duck, Duck, Goose?” I tease.
“Yeah,” Michael nods. “That’s too old. Dad never wants to play because he says it hurts his back. And he’s thirty-three!”
“My back never hurts. I’ll play. Scoot over.” A couple of the kids cheer while Michael makes room for Brody’s massive form.
“Are you seriously going to play?” I ask. “You don’t have to. If you leave right now, I can make up an excuse-”
“We’re playing. And if I remember the rules correctly, you’re still it.” His tone sounds final. Best not to argue with him.
Brody surprises me with how good he is with the children. When he’s tagged by a little girl with legs half the size of his forearms, he lets her get away. When he tags Michael (to prove his stamina and strength, he says), he slows his pace to give Michael a fair chance. The kids love it.
Actually, the kids love him. He and Michael quickly develop some sort of elaborate secret handshake. When they had time to make one up, I don’t know, but I watch them do the entire thing when Michael’s mother arrives to pick him up. The girls all giggle and stare at him like he’s the first boy they’ve met who doesn’t have cooties. Likely their first crush.
When the children begin to leave one by one, we decide to change the game. With two adults present, we can play Red Light/Green Light. Ben has to stay in my arms, which makes the whole freezing thing damn near impossible. But Brody makes an excellent stoplight, making all sorts of allowances for Ben’s antsy-ness and Camille’s clumsiness.
“The point is to have fun,” he tells his rapt audience of children. He’s taken a knee so he can be closer to their eye level. “Enjoy your playtime and make a few new friends. There will be plenty of time to worry about winning trophies later.” The kids all nod like they know exactly what he means. “It’s not always about whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.”
I only suspected it before, but with that little pep talk, I’m about 90% sure Brody used to play football. High school, definitely. College, maybe. I mean, doesn’t that little speech sound like a kindergarten version of something you would hear Coach Taylor say on Friday Night Lights?
Anyway, one by one the children leave until it’s down to just me, Brody, and Ben.
“Seriously, who were those kids?” Brody asks as we wave goodbye to Camille and her mother.
“Well, this is Mr. Ben Franklin himself. Right, Benji?”
“Me! Me! Baby Ben!” Ben joyfully says. Me, baby, and Ben are among the fifty or so words he’s learned to string together since the last time I saw him.
“I get him, he’s your nephew. But how did those other kids end up with you?” Yeah, finding me here must have been a real head scratcher for him. Charlotte Kensington, playing with children? Who would have thunk it!
“Well, Ellie and Drew wanted some alone time so I offered to babysit. And while I was having a picnic on the field with Benji, I overheard Michael’s parents lamenting how they wished the resort had a daycare or an activity program for kids they could utilize to get some adult time. You really don’t have enough kid-only activities around here,” I add. “I checked Fallon’s activity schedule and you only offer art classes once a week. And Fallon says that’s tentative because there’s no guarantee the art teacher in town will be available.”
Brows furrowed, Brody gives me a fierce frown. “Duly noted. Continue.”
“Since I was already minding Ben here, I offered to watch their kids, too. Before I knew it, word got out and our group had grown ten deep.”
“But why would you offer?”
Embarrassed to admit the truth, I shrug. “Seemed like the right thing to do. And lonely only child Ben could use the playmates. Speaking of Ben,” I continue before he presses the issue any further. “He needs a bath before Ellie and Drew see him.”
“No! No bath! No bath!” Ben vigorously shakes his little head, appearing to be on the verge of a tantrum.
“Okay, no bath,” I easily agree. “How about we go swimming instead?”
Lips pursed, Ben considers this. “Pool?”
“Well, it’s called a lake. It’s kind of like a big pool and people swim in it. Do you want to try swimming in the lake?”
He nods, thank god. Temper tantrum averted. Carrying him on my hip, I reach down for his bag, but Brody gets to it first. “You with a kid in the water? I’ve got to see this,” he says by way of explanation.
“Whatever,” I huff on our way to the lake. “This isn’t my first time in the water with him. His parents’ casino has dozens of pools. Plus, this is my roundabout way of giving him a-” I stop myself before I say the dreaded w
ord. “B-A-T-H.”
“I have to see this,” he repeats, grinning now.
I snatch the bag away from him and search for what I need. Aha! “Make yourself useful and inflate these. Please,” I add at his arched brow. While he inflates the floaties, I remove Ben’s dirty shirt and pants before slipping him into his trunks. Next came the life jacket. “Rather be safe than sorry,” I say when Ben frowns at me. “Besides, Mommy would kill me. She always makes you wear it in the pool.”
“How can you give him a B-A-T-H with that thing on?” Brody cuts in.
“Really, I just want to get his face and arms. He has chocolate and paint stains on them. Ellie and Drew have this weird rule where he’s not allowed to have chocolate after three.”
“That’s...very specific. How will she know when you gave it to him?”
“Oh, she’ll know,” I nod grimly. “Ellie has a sixth sense about these things. Can you hold him while I take off my clothes? My swimsuit’s on underneath.”
“So I assumed.” Amused, Brody gathers Ben in his arms and smacks a wet kiss on his cheek. Ben laughs, because he loves kisses and his parents spoil him with them all the time.
Can I just say, there is nothing sexier than a big man holding a baby? Holy shit, does the man look hot nuzzling his chiseled cheeks against Ben’s soft, pudgy ones. And when that little hand curls around one of his massive fingers?
Ahem. Well, then. It’s way inappropriate for me to be having dirty thoughts of Brody in front of my two-year-old nephew, so let’s just cut those out.
“Come on, Benji. Time to do the Michael Phelps and get our dolphin on.”
Ben doesn’t have to be told twice. “Go! Go!” the little dictator orders.
I slip the floaties over his arms and toe off my sneakers. Brody transfers Ben back over to me and stealthily passes me his baby soap and a washcloth. Cradling Ben close to my chest, I wade in.
Imagine my surprise when Brody joins me not even ten seconds later. “Thought you could use some help.”
I don’t, but tricking a toddler is easier to do as a pair than on my own. And I’m a little pissed I missed his entrance. With the water this high, I can’t see much of his torso.
Ugh. Will I ever get to see this man naked?
Anyway, we let Ben swim for a little bit. And by swim, I mean kick and slap water at both of us. It was a good thing we had taken our clothes off, otherwise we would have been soaked.
And while Brody distracts Ben by trying to teach him how to swim, I use the washcloth and soap to clean him off. Ben is so engrossed with whatever Brody is showing him, serious dark brown eyes hyper focused on Brody’s every movement, he doesn’t seem to notice what I’m doing.
Not a single tantrum or tear shed throughout the entire outing. I consider this a massive success.
Brody juts his chin toward the shore. “I’m going to go on ahead and get some towels ready.”
“Okay.” I watch him leave because, hello, obviously I want a glimpse of that ass. With thighs as huge as his, his ass has to be out of this world, right?
And because I happened to be intently staring at his ass (it’s fabulous, in case you’re wondering. Buns of steel, I tell you. The man definitely doesn’t skimp on squats or deadlifts!), I notice he’s in his boxers.
Boxers, not swim trunks. Reminding me that while I had planned to take a dip in the lake with my nephew at some point today, spending this whole afternoon with us was a spur of the moment decision for Brody.
“Sorry if we ruined your afternoon,” I say when I reach the beach and wrap Ben into the towel waiting in Brody’s arms. Sadly, Brody’s already pulled his shirt back on. “I’m sure you had other more exciting plans.”
“Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had in years.” He’s smiling. A whole face smile, bright and wide and clearly happy. “I didn’t realize you like kids.”
Clamping my mouth shut, I shrug.
“And you’re good with them. You are,” he insists when I shake my head in denial. “You got Ben Franklin here cleaned up without him even noticing.”
“You helped-”
“It was your idea.”
Now I feel awkward. “Yeah, okay, I like kids. Kids are easy. They don’t judge or hold grudges. They say what they mean and live in the moment. I understand kids. It’s adults that are hard.”
Brody stares at me, really stares at me. Taking in every detail of my face with an intensity that’s a bit nerve-wracking. As if he’s seeing me for the first time. He ends his study by gently tapping a finger against my lips. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out...”
I want to him to finish that thought, to ask him what he means by that. But it’s getting close to drop-off time and I still have to change Ben’s diaper and get him into some dry (and preferably not chocolate stained) clothes.
We pack everything up and I get dressed while Brody changes Ben. I try to take Ben from him, to carry him the rest of the way to the main resort building, but Brody shakes his head and keeps him splayed over his shoulder. Poor Ben is absolutely pooped, quietly snoring into the crook of Brody’s neck.
As we approach the main building, I spot my cousins. “Eleanor!” I call out. Both Ellie and Drew look over in unison. “Ugh, I hate it when they do that creepy twin-couple thing.”
“Twin-couple thing?” Brody asks.
“Yeah. Doing and saying things at the exact same time, having entire conversations just by looking at each other. It’s like their twins, except they’re actually a couple. Wait. Not an incestuous couple! You know what I mean.”
Amused, Brody quietly chuckles as we continue our approach.
“Eleanor!” I call again, kicking up my accent. “Hello, love! Fancy a drink?”
“A drink? At this hour? I’m absolutely knackered from being around this one all day,” Ellie returns in her accent, jerking a thumb at her husband.
I have to turn my accent up a notch for my next sentence. No way am I going to let my baby cousin beat me. “That’s a load of tosh! You married the wanker. Willingly, I might add.”
“What is happening?” a confused Brody questions from my side. “Why are you suddenly pretending to be British?”
“Oh, the accent thing?” Drew slips his hands into his back pockets and rocks back on his heels. “That’s how they greet each other. Some game they’ve been playing since birth, according to my wife.”
“Bugger off, we’re having fun!” Ellie shushes her husband. Damn, she’s good. Her accent was so cockney ridiculous on that one, I almost laugh.
“We’re just taking the piss,” I add, going more posh with mine. “Whenever I say the name Eleanor, I simply cannot help myself. Such an old-fashioned name, Eleanor.”
“You’re the one who shares a name with Princess Charlotte!”
“We can’t all be fabulous.”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Anyway, cheerio! Thanks for taking Ben for the day.”
I wave away her thanks. “No worries, mate.”
“What’s the goal here?” Brody asks.
“To get the other to break character,” I reply.
“Aha! I win!” Ellie celebrates with a hop and a clap.
“Damn it!” I had responded to Brody in my regular voice. The man is constantly distracting me.
“That’s the worse you’ve ever done, Char.” Gloating, Ellie retrieves a small notebook from her purse. “Which would leave us...220-115. You’re slacking, cuz.”
“Wait, you actually keep score?” The corners of Brody’s mouth crinkle, like he’s fighting off a laugh.
“Oh, yes. Charlotte used to be quite good at this game. Up until I reached prep school, she always won. Then, all of a sudden, I started kicking her ass.”
“Whatever. He distracted me,” I jerk a thumb at Brody, flattening my lips into a firm line. “That one doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counts, all right. Cheer up, buttercup. No one likes a sore loser.”
Rolling my eyes, I huff out a breath. “Fine,
you can win this little game. I’m still winning at life.”
“At life?” Ellie snorts. “Sorry, but I have money, my own business, a hot husband, and the cutest little baby to boot. I’m kicking your ass at life, too.”
It’s supposed to be a joke. I know it’s supposed to be a joke. Ellie’s smiling and even tosses me an exaggerated wink. But even without those clues, I still knew it was supposed to be a joke. Because Ellie doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.
It’s a joke.
Still, her words hurt. Because they’re true. Ellie, who is a good four years younger than me, has her life together while I’m still drifting around, trying to find myself.
I want what she has, more so now than ever before. Staying in one place for so long is making me realize just how stagnant my life had become. It’s like everyone around me had already sprinted to the finish line while I’m still stuck in the middle of the track.
Arching a brow at my cousin, I make a small tsk-ing noise. “So sassy! I think I liked you better when you were dating Elijah. You’ve been entirely too cheeky since you married Drew. Speaking of Elijah...” We weren’t really, but saying his name reminded me of something else I’ve been meaning to talk to her about. “I’m going to help him plan the Snowflake Dance this year.”
“You’re...what?” Ellie gapes at me.
“I’m volunteering to help plan the Snowflake Dance with Elijah this year. So that you and Drew don’t have to deal with him.”
“I like this idea,” Drew jumps in. He beams me a brilliant smile, completely ecstatic at my suggestion. Can’t say I blame the guy. Having your wife’s ex, who is still very obviously in love with her, hanging around can’t be fun.
“First of all, it’s called the Sugarplum Ball-” Ellie starts.
“Close enough,” I cut in, mildly embarrassed I’d gotten the name wrong. No wonder people don’t take me seriously.
“Secondly, why would you volunteer to hangout with Elijah? The two of you aren’t exactly friends.”
“We’re not enemies either. Besides, I’m just trying to help.”
“Hell, if she wants to date Elijah, I’m all for it. You can make me a groomsman at your wedding,” Drew jokes. “I don’t know why we never thought of it before, setting up Charlotte with Elijah.”
