Tyler
“There’s my baby boy,” my mom greets with joy as I walk into the kitchen at my parents’ house.
She sets something steaming hot on the counter, her hands covered in the oven mitts my dad got her last Christmas that say, My husband is so hot that I wear this to hug him. Forty years of marriage, and he’s still a hopeless romantic.
The instant the aromas of stuffing and pumpkin pie hit my nostrils, my stomach immediately grumbles.
“Uncle Tyler!” Junior yells.
I grunt as he flies into me, squeezing me hard. I ruffle his hair as he pulls away.
“Hey, bud.” I grin down at him. “You know, you won’t get any food privileges by being in here.”
His smile doubles as he reaches down to stroke Harley at my side. “Well, I’ve already had three sugar cookies.”
I glance at my mom with a shake of my head, mock horror on my face. “You never gave me sugar cookies when I was younger, especially not before dinner.”
She gives a warm smile, shrugging her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m going soft in my old age.”
I step over to her and press a kiss to her cheek. “Nah, you’re still a hard-ass.”
She glares at me, a warning in her eyes. “Do I need to grab the soap? Thirty-one or not, you’re not too old for the soap treatment.”
I glance to Junior with repulsion, and he giggles.
“Sorry,” I say, grinning. “I meant, you’re still a tough cookie. That G-rated enough for you?”
“Perfect.”
If I know one thing about my mom, it’s that she hates vulgar language. I mean, raising three boys, you’d think she’d have found a tolerance for swearing, but that isn’t the case. I think she wanted to turn us into Prince Charmings, but when we learned how to fart with our armpits and burped the alphabet from the oldest brother, she quickly came to the realization that it was never going to happen.
God, and don’t talk about drugs either. If she knew I tried Molly back in college or still enjoyed the occasional joint, she’d disown me. That, or outright kill me.
I open the door to the backyard and let Harley out. I go to swipe a sugar cookie off the counter, and as anticipated, my mom slaps my wrist, forcing the cookie to fall back down on the cooling rack.
“No cookies before dinner,” she reprimands.
I glance at Junior as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar, stirring what looks to be a bowl of cranberry juice, grinning like he’s won the lottery.
Little shit.
“Why can Junior have three, and I can’t have even one?” I whine like I’m all of ten years old.
“Because I know he’ll eat his greens with dinner.”
As much as I would like to argue that, she has a point. Brussels sprouts are the worst, yet she still insists on serving them every year.
“Can’t argue with that. Do you need any help?” I offer while grabbing a soda from the refrigerator. I pop the top.
“I’ve got everything covered. I have my little sous chef right here.” She beams at Junior. She then looks back at me with a pointed look. “Plus, there’s someone you need to meet.”
I simply nod as I take a sip of Sprite.
She then pivots her head in the direction of the living room. “No time like the present.” Her words start off slow but get caught in her chest with a rattling cough, powerful enough that she almost loses her footing.
I set the soda down on the countertop and instinctively reach for her, looking down at her with concern. “Mom, are you okay?” I ask with worry. “Are you getting sick?”
She honestly sounds like she’s hacking up a lung, and it’s far from the healthy woman I’ve always known her to be. I mean, what sixty-one-year-old woman do you know who does yoga? She’s never sick though. She has the immune system of a shark, so to see her so much as cough is definitely worrisome.
Junior voices my concern a second later. “Grandma, are you okay?”
“Yes…I’m…fine.” She tries to brush us off through a splutter of choking coughs.
As I watch her almost dry-heave, I notice she’s paler than usual and how her clothes are a lot less fitted. In fact, when I take a closer look, she looks as if she’s lost about fifteen pounds since I last saw her just over a week ago. Her coughs ease a few seconds later, and much to my disbelief, she continues flurrying around in the kitchen.
“Mom, you’re not fine.” I follow her to the stove as she retrieves something else out of the oven and sets it on the side. “That cough sounds bad. If you need to lie down, I can finish off in here.”
She glares at me like I’ve just offended her. She’s pretty protective of her kitchen.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. You know I can cook. I learned from the best.” I wink.
She lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re a fantastic cook, but honestly, I’m fine. I just had a little tickle in my throat; that’s all. Nothing a glass of water can’t fix. You know me; I’m healthy as a horse.” She picks up the bottled water from the side and takes a couple of sips.
I don’t buy that she’s not sick, but surely, if she were, she’d tell us. Right?
I go to push further when a voice from behind interrupts me, “Well, look at what the cat dragged in.”
I turn and see Jo with a stupid-ass grin on her face with her boyfriend, Drew, following behind. I note he’s no longer walking with a limp.
I wander over to them. “If Mom wasn’t in the room, I’d have some choice words for you, but if I utter another cuss word in front of her, I’ll be sent to bed without any food, and, well, I’m starving.” The growl from my stomach comes at just the right time.
Jo laughs as she gives me a hug. “You can whisper your profanities to me if you’d like. I know it must pain you not to talk trash to me,” she goadingly whispers in my ear.
I stretch my neck to look at her, a smirk set on my lips. “It’s okay; you can have a pass for today. I really want to eat.”
She slaps my stomach as she pulls back, lightly laughing. “You’re one of those weirdos who thinks about food in the same way most guys think about sex twenty-four/seven, aren’t you?”
I give her a no-comment shrug as I focus my attention on Drew, who’s standing there with a bemused look on his face.
“Hey, man. It’s good to see you.” I hold out my hand, and we do a brotherly handshake. “The leg’s looking good,” I say, quickly glancing down at his leg.
He gives a nod of his head. “It’s feeling great. A little stiff, but I can walk on it now without any pain. This one’s been helping with my physio regime.”
He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Jo’s suggestive giggles tell me there’s a hidden innuendo of some sort.
I watch the way she looks up at him, and warmth settles in my chest at how happy she looks. It’s the complete opposite to how she looked last Thanksgiving. She was a lost soul, struggling to keep her head above water with the loss of my brother, but now, she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her.
Drew leans down and kisses her head, and I start chuckling when Junior complains, “Ew, Mama. How many times do I have to say this? Please don’t start kissing again. It’s gross.”
I glance at him with humor before looking back at Jo and Drew. “Yeah, guys, cut that sh—uh, sugar out,” I jokingly reply, almost slipping up.
My mom raises a brow.
“Nice save,” Jo remarks dryly.
I almost flip her the bird before I think better of it.
“Is Mia here?” Drew asks, his eyes roaming around the kitchen for her.
Just the mere mention of her name has my heart beating overtime.
Yep, I’m a total girl, but I’m not ashamed to admit I’m totally pussy-whipped.
I give a simple shake of the head. “No. She’s having dinner at her parents’, but she’ll be joining us later.”
“How are you guys doing?” Jo asks next.
I’m unable to keep the smile off my face. “We’re really good. We’re still taking things slow, going back to basics—or at least, we were before I unleashed what we’re doing for our next date.”
“Why? Where are you taking her?”
“Oh, just to see her favorite band on a little island called the Dominican Republic,” I say in a nonchalant tone, mostly for impact.
They look to each other, eyes doubled in surprise, before returning their gazes to me.
“The Dominican Republic?” Jo questions before adding, “Wow.”
“Yeah, Maroon 5 is playing on Saturday night, so we’re flying out in the morning for a six-day break at the Hard Rock Hotel.”
“Dude, that sounds awesome,” Drew comments. “I’m kinda jealous. I’ve always wanted to stay in a Hard Rock Hotel.”
“It’s a little costly, but she’s worth every penny.” I mean, who needs savings anyway?
“She sure is.” Drew winks, holding Jo closer to him.
We talk for a few more minutes about the plans I have for the week. What I don’t tell them is that I plan to have her naked for pretty much the entire vacation.
Have I mentioned there is a hot tub in the middle of the hotel room? Fucking luxury of epic proportions.
“Do you know where Ashton is?” I finally ask Jo, realizing I really need to rip this Band-Aid off.
“He went upstairs with Ava, Lily-Mai, and Francesca not long after they arrived.”
“I’m gonna go find him. We have a lot to talk about.”
Jo gives an understanding smile, knowing exactly what I’m referring to. “He’s your brother, Tyler. It’ll be fine.”
I give a final nod before making my way out of the kitchen in search of my big bro. As I take my first step on the stairs, I see he’s already making his way down them.
“Hey, I was just coming down to find you,” he says in a happy voice, one that immediately eases my tension.
“Yeah, was just coming to find you,” I reply with an easy smile.
He hurries down the stairs until he’s standing in front of me, meeting me height for height.
“Come here.” He pulls me in for a hug, affectionately slapping his hands against my back. He slowly lets go of me and braces his hands against my face, a serious expression marring his own. “I am so fucking sorry, baby brother.”
I feel a lump form in my throat, and it’s a struggle to keep swallowing it down as he continues, “As soon as I heard the news, I wanted to grab the next plane to be with you, but Ava needed me. You understand that, right?” he asks, his hands falling away from my face.
Wait, why’s he apologizing to me?
If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.
“Ashton, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one who needs to apologize for being a dick to you.”
Frown lines appear on his face, his eyes showing confusion. “Are we talking about the same thing here?”
“Well, the fact that I’ve yet to meet my niece is just one of the reasons I’ve been a dick.”
He blows out a long breath. “I think we need whiskey for this. Come on, let’s raid Dad’s liquor cabinet.”
Ashton grabs a bottle of Dad’s finest whiskey along with two tumblers, and we head out to the front porch but not before I spot a cigar box beside the cabinet, so I take out two Cuban cigars and a lighter. Neither of us usually smokes, but it’s about time we celebrated the birth of his daughter in style. It’s something we should have done months ago, but I guess it isn’t too late.
We take a seat on the porch swing, and Ashton pours a healthy amount of whiskey into each glass. He hands me mine, and I raise the glass to my mouth, inhaling the strong aroma from the amber liquid before taking a sip. I cradle my glass as I look ahead. The sun shines brightly around us, and the heat feels fantastic against my skin. Dallas is a lot cooler in the fall, and it’s nice to be able to sit outside without sweating my balls off.
“Ava and the girls upstairs?” I ask, stalling to talk about the real stuff.
“Yeah. They’re all pretty exhausted from the trip here, so they’re resting up for a bit before dinner. Francesca’s not been sleeping too good at night.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine that traveling with a three-year-old and six-month-old is all smooth sailing.”
“It definitely isn’t,” he agrees.
Our conversation grows idle after that, and for the first time, it feels awkward to be in my brother’s presence. I was always close to Christopher, but it’s never felt this strained between Ashton and me before. I stew in my silence, unable to form words I know I need to speak. I feel him shift closer, and he nudges his knee with mine.
“Tyler, talk to me,” Ashton urges. “I want to know what’s going through that head of yours.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I answer after what seems like an age. I lean my elbows forward on my knees, sighing deeply and staring at the amber liquid in my glass.
“I get it,” he begins. “I get why you felt you couldn’t come to me. I think I’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.”
I tilt my head to the side and look at him. “I didn’t want to resent you,” I finally admit. I’m silent again as I try to rationalize everything I want to say. “Everything we lost, you gained, and it took me a long time to come to terms with that. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place for a long time, and it was a really shitty place to be.”
He nods his head as he takes a pull of his whiskey, hissing a little as it hits the back of his throat. I do the same.
“I fucking hate how you had to go through that, but even worse, I hated not being there for you,” he says with regret laced in his words.
I shake my head. “You were there for me, Ash. We might have been states away, but the texts you sent told me you were there for me. It’s a shame I can’t say the same for me, but I’m here now.”
He slaps me on the shoulder and squeezes affectionately. “I know.”
I have to briefly turn away to suppress the emotion forming in my throat with a shot of whiskey, and it burns in all the right places.
Shit, this is strong.
“How are things with you and Mia now?”
I smile. “We’re good. It’s been a tough five months, quite possibly the worst five months of my life. I was convinced for a while that I was going to lose her, but we’ve fought so fucking hard to get to the place we’re at now, and it’s finally feeling like it used to. We’re taking things slow for now, but it seems this Bailey smile is working like a charm.”
I grin, and Ashton chuckles.
“Attaboy,” he praises, slapping my leg hard. “Will she be joining us later?”
“Yes. I’m picking her up after dinner. Baby steps and all,” I say.
He nods with understanding.
He notices my glass is empty and picks the whiskey bottle up from the floor to refill my glass.
I shake my head. “I’d better not. I’ve got to drive later, and I really don’t want to relive senior year when I wrapped Dad’s truck around a tree on prom night.”
Ashton’s deep laugh rumbles beside me. “Shit. I forgot about that. I remember Mom called me that night and demanded I come home from Seattle to kick your ass.”
“Wait, she actually said the word ass?” I ask with genuine shock.
As mentioned before, she has zero tolerance for cussing, and in her eyes, the word ass is just as offensive as the word cunt.
“Yes. That’s how mad she was.”
I bust out with laughter. “As punishment for almost killing myself, for a whole month, she made me assist her at the hospital. I swear, I’d never seen so much blood and vomit in my life. Although the last straw was when some dude came through the emergency room with his guts literally on the outside of his body. That moment scarred me for life, and it was the reason I never went premed in college.”
“Dude, you were never going to go premed in college anyway. You’ve always sucked with blood,” Ashton points out, still laughing.
I’m the only one out of the family who never got into the medical field. My dad was a general surgeon before he retired. My mom was a nurse for twenty years but decided to retire when Christopher died, so she could help Jo look after Junior. Ashton is a neonatologist back in Seattle, and Christopher was a US Army doctor.
And then there is little old me, who passes out at the sight of blood and guts. I’m a pussy; I know.
I place my empty glass on the ground and pick up the Cuban cigars set between us. I hand him one. “However, a cigar I can do. It’s about time we celebrate you becoming a dad, don’t you think?”
He smiles as he places the cigar between his lips. I pull the chrome Zippo lighter from my pocket and crack up when I see the provocative design of some chick’s ass.
I hold it up for Ashton. “Look at this.”
He snorts, taking it from my hand, and he admires it. “Wow, and Mom wonders why we’re the way we are,” he speaks with the cigar still in his mouth.
“Dad’s one dirty fucker.” I smirk with a shake of my head.
Ashton lights the foot of the cigar, and I intently watch the way he takes shallow puffs as he turns it until it burns orange. He takes another puff before pulling the cigar away from his mouth, blowing out the smoke. He hands me the lighter back.
“You do know how to smoke a Cuban, right?” he asks me dryly.
I gawk at him. “Yes, I know how to smoke a Cuban, asshat. I was the marijuana king back in college.”
I light my cigar, and a couple of seconds later, I inhale a short pull, the aroma strong. The earthy and woody taste overwhelms my senses as I swirl the smoke around my mouth before blowing it back out.
“I’m surprised you ever passed a single class with you being such a pothead.”
I sit back on the porch swing, holding the cigar between my thumb and two fingers. “I actually think the pot helped—or at least, I tell myself that anyway.”
We sit and smoke our cigars in silence for a few minutes, and while I inhale the oaky smoke, I try to find the courage to ask the next question.
“So, how’s life as a dad treating you?” I finally ask.
It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders just by simply asking.
He raises a brow, as if he’s silently asking, Is this a safe subject?
I nod, urging him to answer the question. I anticipate the pain to come, but the pain is part of the recovery. It’s like a Band-Aid. I’m gonna have to rip it off sooner or later, so I might as well get the tough bit over and done with. No time like the present and all that jazz.
He gives a faraway smile before focusing his eyes on me. “It’s amazing. I thought loving Ava and Lily-Mai was enough fulfillment in my life, but when I first laid my eyes on Francesca, it was nothing like I’d ever experienced. There are no words to describe it, but it’s like, the instant she was born, she managed to grip her entire fist around my heart, and her hold is cement tight. She has me wrapped around her little finger, and I just know I’m never going to be able to tell her no. She’s going to be so fucking spoiled, but I don’t even care.” He laughs lightly. “I’m head over heels in love, and between her and Lily-Mai, I’m a goner.”
As I listen to his words, I find myself excessively breathing in the cigar as the pain reaches a new high, and anticipating it didn’t prepare me for the ache, but at the same time, I’m truly happy for him.
“I’m really happy for you and Ava. I can’t wait to meet her. I just wish she had been able to meet her cousin.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I don’t regret them.
“I know. Me, too, little brother. Me, too.”
He gives a few more quick puffs of his cigar while I just roll mine around my fingers, my eyes watching the burning, flickering end.
“You’ll try again though, right?” Ashton asks a few minutes later.
“No, I don’t think so. Mia made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want the possibility of losing a child again, and honestly, I don’t think I could handle it either. It almost broke us.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Am I okay with that? I ask myself, mulling over that question for a few beats.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “Almost losing Mia put everything into perspective for me. If we end up having kids, then I’ll be happy with that, but if we grow old together without children, I’ll be content with that, too. What I don’t want is a life without Mia.”
He pulls the cigar from his mouth and softly smiles. “Whatever makes you happy, but just for the record, I know you’d make a great dad.”
“Thanks,” I croak out, feeling the emotions get the better of me.
I cough uncomfortably. It’s one thing, being able to open up comfortably with Mia now, but with anybody else, it’s still an inner struggle. I take quick puffs of my cigar, letting the nicotine soothe through the awkwardness.
I think he feels the shift in emotions, as he quickly changes the subject. “So, I met Drew earlier. He seems like a good guy.”
Drew. Safe topic.
I nod my head, happy to talk about somebody else. “He’s great. He’s the best thing that’s happened to Jo since Christopher.”
“Yeah, I can definitely see that. I’ve not seen Jo since the wedding last year, and it’s like she’s a different person now. It’s about time she found happiness.”
“I’d totally drink to that if my glass wasn’t empty.” I shrug, smiling.
Ashton picks up the bottle of whiskey from beside his feet and offers it in my direction. “I’m pretty sure another shot of whiskey won’t send you over the edge. Plus, we’re about to eat our body weight in food in an hour, so it’ll soak every last bit of whiskey out of your system.”
“Ah, what the hell?” I cave, picking up my glass.
I hold it out to him, and he pours a healthy amount of amber liquid inside. He pours himself another shot, and I tilt my glass toward him.
“To Jo,” Ashton begins, “who’s finally found the happiness she truly deserves.”
“And to my brother,” I add with a smile, “who—excluding Dad—is the best dad any kid could ask for.”
He grins as we clink our glasses together before we each knock our shots back.