Chapter 38
Colby
As Lydia walks through the crowd toward me, I stand stock still on my crutches, mesmerized. Her youngest kid, Beatrice, is perched on Lydia’s right hip, sucking her little thumb, while Lydia’s middle child, Isabella, holds her mother’s hand and bops along happily to “Bailando” as she walks. Lydia’s oldest kid, Theo, is shuffling stoically behind his mother and sisters looking like he’d rather eat a bag of shattered glass than be here. And Lydia? The sight of that woman always lights my fuse, but today, seeing her dressed in street clothes instead of scrubs—finally getting to see her as the natural mother she is—she looks sexier to me than ever.
Lydia and her kids reach my parents and me, and, while I try my damnedest not to look like I’m about to keel over with excitement and nerves, Lydia greets everyone and introduces her kids.
True to form, Mom jumps right in and begins interacting warmly with Lydia’s kids, giving me a much-appreciated opportunity to hang back and observe the situation.
Okay, first observation? Isabella Decker is already Team Colby. She’s all but winking at me on the sly. Theo, on the other hand, not so much. I’m not getting active hate from the little dude, but he’s certainly not here to make new friends. And Beatrice? The jury’s out on that little beauty, but only because she won’t peek out from the crook of her mother’s neck long enough to let me get a read on her.
The band switches songs from “Bailando” to the iconic opening guitar riff of “Play That Funky Music White Boy” and Mom squeals with excitement. She grabs Dad’s hand, shouting, “Come on, old man! Momma Lou wants to dance!” and that’s that. Off they go to the dance floor, leaving me standing alone with Lydia and her three kids.
“What happened to your leg?” Izzy asks, pointing.
I reflexively look down. “I broke it.”
“How?”
“I’m a firefighter. I went into a burning house and a beam crashed down on top of it and smashed it.”
“You’re a firefighter?” Izzy looks at her mother, her face aglow. “Are you my mommy’s patient?”
“Yes.”
Izzy looks at her mother as if to say, “Gotcha!” and Lydia gives her daughter a warning look. Huh. Interesting. I’m not sure what that nonverbal exchange was about, but by the look on Izzy’s face, she’s just discovered the secrets of the universe.
“I might want to be a firefighter one day,” Theo pipes in, and I peel my eyes off Izzy.
“Oh yeah? I’d be happy to give you a VIP tour of the firehouse sometime.”
I’m expecting him to light up at the suggestion, but he doesn’t.
“Or I might want to be a detective like my father. Or an animator. Or maybe a rock star or golfer.”
Am I imagining the emphasis he just put on the word father? I clear my throat. “Wow, Theo,” I say. “Sounds like you’re gonna be a busy guy when you grow up.”
Oh, shit. Based on Theo’s dour facial expression, it’s clear I’ve just royally fucked up.
“I know I can’t be all those things when I grow up,” Theo explains to me calmly—because, apparently, I’m a dumbshit. “I just meant those are all the options I’m currently considering.” He leans forward. “Because I’m eleven.”
“Theo,” Lydia chastises. She looks at me and grimaces.
But I can’t help smiling. Okay, cool. The kid’s a smart-ass? Great. That’s a personality type I happen to know a lot about. “It’s okay,” I say to Lydia. “Theo’s right. My comment was patronizing. I’m sorry about that, Theo. Won’t happen again.”
Theo looks surprised. Maybe even impressed. “It’s okay,” he says, all his bravado from a moment ago gone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s all good,” I say. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation with an eleven-year-old and I’m obviously pretty rusty at it.”
The annoyed look on Theo’s face from a moment ago is now gone, replaced by vague tolerance. “Hey, I’ve never talked to a firefighter before, so we’re even.”
Izzy pipes in out of nowhere, “I don’t want a broken leg, but I wish I had crutches!”
I smile at her. “I know it seems like it’d be fun to have crutches, but, trust me, the novelty wears off fast.” But then I remember I’m talking to a seven-year-old and hastily add, “Novelty just means it would stop being fun super fast.”
“Oh, I know what novelty is,” Izzy says brightly. “We had it on our vocab list at school.”
“You did? Holy moly. What grade are you in?”
“Second.”
“Wow. And you already had ‘novelty’ on your vocabulary list?”
Izzy nods. “I’m in the advanced vocab group. The Blue Angels. We get the biggest words so we can ‘fly through the pages.’ But I also know that word because my mommy always says, ‘Okay enough, guys! The novelty has worn off!’”
I chuckle and shoot a little wink at Lydia—and immediately draw a death-stare from Theo. Shit. “Well, Izzy,” I say. “I’m impressed. At your age, I didn’t know what novelty was. And neither did any of my four younger siblings at that age, either. You’re one smart cookie.”
Izzy nods. “I’m a very smart cookie. They put computer chips inside my brain instead of chocolate chips!”
Lydia and I laugh and Izzy shoots me a gap-toothed smile.
“Man, you’re really smart, aren’t you?”
She flashes me an adorable look that makes me giggle like a fool.
Still laughing, I look at Theo to see if he’s laughing along with me, but nope. That wink I shot at Lydia a minute ago was a deal-breaker for him, apparently. I’m done.
“Does it hurt?” Izzy asks, pointing at my leg again.
I peel my eyes off Theo’s pissed off face. “Not too bad. It hurt a lot when I first broke it. But not too much anymore. It only hurts when I overdo it at the gym or when it rains.”
“You’ve been overdoing it at the gym?” Lydia says. “Colby, you have to be careful to avoid injury. Slow and steady wins the race.”
I shrug. Of course, I’ve been overdoing it at the gym. If I don’t get back to my old strength and get back to work as soon as humanly possible, I’m going to combust.
“Your leg hurts when it rains?” Izzy says.
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know for sure. I think it has something to do with how the barometric pressure of the atmosphere drops before a storm.”
Izzy looks at me blankly.
Fuck. I just said “barometric pressure of the atmosphere” to a seven-year-old. Good God, I’m way worse at this than I thought I’d be.
“Well, if your leg hurts when it rains,” Izzy says, “then it must hurt an awful lot living here.”
“I know, right?” I say. “Welcome to Seattle.”
Izzy rolls her eyes comically like rain is the most annoying thing ever—like it’s a real pain in the ass during her morning commute to her job as an accountant—and I laugh my ass off at her sheer adorableness.
“You don’t like the rain, Isabella?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I love the rain,” she replies. “I love wearing my boots and splashing in puddles.”
“Then why’d you make that face about the rain?” Theo interjects, his tone unmistakably annoyed.
“Because he said the rain hurts his leg!” she bellows, indicating my leg, her anger flashing from zero to sixty in a heartbeat... and I’m instantly brought back to the thousand and one times Ryan and Kat—whose age difference is the same as Theo and Izzy’s—interacted in exactly this same way.
And that’s it. Boom. I suddenly realize my nerves and awkwardness are totally misplaced here. I can do this. I’ve been training to love these three kids since I was two and a half years old when Ryan Ulysses Morgan came home from the hospital, followed by Kat, then Keane, and then Baby David Jackson. I sneak another smile at Beatrice, determined this time to win her over, but she nuzzles shyly into Lydia’s collarbone again.
“Hey, Beatrice,” I say softly.
She doesn’t look at me.
“Beatrice,” Lydia says. “Mr. Morgan is talking to you.”
“Colby,” I say.
“Mr. Colby,” Lydia corrects.
I flash Lydia a look that says, Seriously? And she shrugs like, Well, shit, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.
“Beatrice,” I coo again. “You wanna know a secret? I think you’re going to like it.”
Beatrice sloooowly turns her head to look at me with a side-eye.
“Did you know we’ve got the exact same name, you and me?”
She knits her little brow.
“It’s true. My name isn’t Beatrice. It’s Colby. But guess what everyone in my family calls me? Bee. Because Col-by. Bee.”
Her face lights up with understanding. She points to herself. “Bea!”
I laugh. It’s the first word she’s spoken to me and her voice is the most heart-melting sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
“I know!” I reply. “You’re Bea and I’m Bee. You’re Bea because that’s the first part of your name and I’m Bee because it’s the second half of mine. So, if we put our names together we’re Bea-Bee.”
Oh, man, Beatrice loves it. She throws her head back and squeals with delight and every cell in my body surges.
“Bea-Bee!” she squeals, giggling.
Score.
“Hi, Lydia,” Ryan says, coming up behind me. He gives Lydia a hug. “Great to see you again. Who are all these people who look strikingly like you only in much smaller formats?”
Lydia laughs and introduces everyone to Ryan, and much to my surprise and dismay, Theo throws nothing but sunshine his way, right out of the gate. What the serious fuck?
“Anyone wanna climb a rock wall with me?” Ryan asks.
Theo is instantly all over the idea, but Izzy declines the offer.
“I wanna dance!” Izzy says, doing a little wiggle in place. She motions to the dance floor across the gym.
“Okay, okay,” Lydia says, laughing. “Come on, Queen Bea. Let’s dance with your big sister.”
“No, Mommy,” Izzy says sharply. She gestures to me. “I want to dance with Mr. Colby.”
My heart skips a beat. “Colby, please.” I look at Lydia. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
“That’s fine,” Lydia says. “But Colby can’t dance, honey. He’s on crutches.”
“Of course, I can dance,” I say. “I’m not going to win any dance contests today, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. All I have to do is wiggle a little bit, right, Izzy?”
She squeals with delight and wiggles in place. “Let’s go!”
Lydia leans into Beatrice’s concealed face. “Would you like to dance with Colby, too, Bumble Bea?”
Beatrice shakes her head and burrows into her mother’s chest.
Damn.
“No?” Lydia asks incredulously. “But you love to dance, Bea.”
Beatrice shakes her head again.
Lydia looks at me apologetically. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s never shy like this.”
Beatrice clutches her mother even tighter.
“No worries,” I say. “This party is loud and exciting and I’m some random dude on crutches. If I were her, I’d burrow into your chest, too.”
Lydia flashes me warning eyes and I suddenly realize what I’ve just said. I glance at Theo to find he’s not the least bit amused by my unintentionally smarmy comment and that, in fact, he’s currently plotting my murder. Shit.
I throw Ryan a look that says, “Help me,” and my brother grabs Theo and escorts him away to climb.
“Let’s go, Colby!” Izzy says, touching my hand and wiggling in place.
Lydia nuzzles Beatrice’s face and says, “You wanna dance with Colby and Izzy or help me take some photos of Theo climbing the wall?”
Beatrice covertly peeks at me for a split second. “No,” she says, and then she quickly hides in Lydia’s chest again.
My heart skips a beat. Damn, she’s an adorable kid. “Hey, Bea,” I say. “Did you notice there’s a face-painter in the far corner?”
Well, that gets Beatrice’s attention. She pops her head out of her mother’s chest and peers across the gym like a prairie dog on the African plains.
“Over there,” I say, pointing. “See?”
“Mommy!” Beatrice gasps, jerking her little body in her mother’s arms. “I go face paint! Mommy! Face paint!”
“Okay, Bumble Bea,” Lydia says, laughing. She looks at me. “You found her Achilles’ heel.”
It’s quickly decided Izzy and I will dance, just the two of us, and then meet Bea and Lydia at the face painter after they’re done taking some photos of Ryan and Theo.
“But we’re going to dance for a really long time, right?” Izzy says.
My heart squeezes. “Of course.”
“Honey, Colby needs to take it easy. You can dance with him for one song and that’s it. You need to be gentle with him. He’s still healing.”
Izzy’s face lights up. Apparently, being gentle is right up this cutie’s alley. “Okay, Mommy.” She turns to me and pets my forearm with acute tenderness, like I’m a baby bird with a broken wing that just fell out of the sky and landed at her feet. “Come on, Colby,” she purrs. “Follow me. I’ll be very, very gentle with you while I show you how to do a shuffle ball-change.”