How You Know It Won’t Work:
You tell off your ex-crush at work and then quit your job
September rolled around with a cool breeze that broke the heat wave summer left behind and finally reintroduced sweater weather. AKA the best season ever. The frumpy knit lifesavers hid the amount of sugar consumed to fill the empty void left behind by your sort-of-not-really-boyfriend.
Boy friend? Friend who’s a boy?
Ugh. I needed more chocolate.
It seemed like my days not spent at work were filled with Taylor Swift jam sessions about scorned women and broken hearts. The day Taylor Swift started singing about getting her happily ever after would be the day hell froze over. Her career would be dead and gone, hanging with the devil himself in Alaska 2.0.
Half of my playlist was angry breakup songs that spoke to my soul. While Taylor was my main bitch, I loved blasting Linkin Park and Breaking Benjamin in my office while I debated on what delivery service to order next. At this point, I was sure Dave Chen and his family at China 19 had a plaque of me hanging on their walls as customer of the year.
The sad thing was, I hadn’t even been broken up with. If anything, I’d initiated Splitsville, cruising down the one-way road that led straight to a house filled with forty cats.
But nobody could blame me for taking some time away from the blue-eyed heartbreaker. Me least of all. I’d done the whole sorry-for-myself routine, but now it was time to snap myself out of it.
My text to Caleb three days ago was graced with no response. So, I opted to push him as far back as my mind would allow—behind an impenetrable steel barrier that separated the desperate part of me from the normal side. I’d allow myself to be awkward, but the last thing I was letting myself become was desperate.
Mashed Potato seemingly read my mind, and I was glad she couldn’t voice her opinion on the matter. If she could talk, I’d need therapy. Or an emotional support animal from her alone.
Because hearing what she thought about the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream I devoured an hour ago, or the Oreo cookie sleeve currently sitting next to me on the couch ready to be loved on, was so not the kind of judgment I needed.
We girls had to stick together, not judge.
“You don’t get it, boo.” I sighed.
Her paw batted the cookie sleeve like she was trying to push it away from my greedy hands.
“Tell you what,” I bargained. “I’ll stop eating my feelings when my pants get too tight.”
Mashed Potato got up and knocked the cookies onto the floor. I gaped at her as she jumped down and sauntered away, as if getting her point across.
My eyes flew to the waistband of my yoga pants. Whoever invented elastic was a person worth marrying. Then again, I was already having a torrid love affair with Ben and Jerry’s and the creator of Reese’s cups.
I popped my bottom lip out. “Damn cat always has to be right,” I grumbled, turning off the television and bringing the cookies back into the kitchen.
I was an emotional eater. Happy, sad, angry, bored, I always had something edible in my hands. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be the next feature on My 600 Pound Life.
Leaning against the counter, I realized that wasn’t an option. The version of me who swore off guys for the sake of my sanity also worked her ass off to love herself in the process. And while food was an important part of the transformation—because I was not about to deprive myself of anything chocolate, cheesy, or fried—I learned what moderation was.
Sigh.
My cat was all about tough love.
I pointed at Tater as I made my way into my bedroom for workout clothes. “You’re annoying but I love you.”
I swore her yowl was prideful.
After yanking on my spandex capris, sports bra, and tank top, I plugged my headphones into my cell and opened my music app.
“Sorry Taylor,” I murmured, skipping over my pity-party playlist. If I was going to work past my funk, I needed to get back into feel-good mode. So, classic rock it was.
Scratching Tater’s butt on the way to the door, I slid my phone into my mesh pocket and made my way outside.
The cool air was welcoming against my skin as I drew in a breath. It filled my lungs with new beginnings and flooded my limbs as I thought about how today was a fresh start. There was no rainclouds or dark skies, or humidity that made my hair look like I’d just stuck my finger in an outlet.
Then again, I’d probably look like that after I was done jogging. Usually thirty seconds down the road I was face-first in the pavement heaving like I’d run a ten-mile marathon.
Just because I wanted to be fit didn’t mean the fit life chose me. The food life though? I was a strong advocate.
As my playlist went through the usual 80’s hits—Bon Jovi, KISS, Twisted Sister. I thought back to when Caleb first watched me dance horribly to Aerosmith. It made me want to change the music, like it should be banned from my memory forever, but I forced myself to listen as I kept jogging.
If I was going to give up on everything I associated with the people that hurt me, I’d live one boring ass life. And that said something considering my life wasn’t that amazing to begin with.
If I let go of everything that made me bitter and stopped expecting so much from so little, I’d be a lot happier. I wouldn’t have to guilt myself into running, which I hated. Or to stop listening to music that I loved just because it made me remember a guy. Or consider not getting my master’s degree just because it’d get in the way of a social life I didn’t even have.
I wasn’t living. I was holding myself back.
I slowed my pace in front of the elementary school, my sneakers coming to a stop an inch before an ant hill in the crevice of the sidewalk. Hunched over with my hands on my upper thighs to catch my breath, I let the thought sink in.
“Well, damn,” I breathed, shaking my head.
There was nothing special that I was holding onto—just familiarity. I’d gone to college, switched my major three times in indecision, and gave up making friends and dating to support myself with a nice apartment after graduation. But what came after that? Washing laundry for the rest of my life? Arguing with customers who thought paying twenty dollars for Ralph Lauren jeans on clearance was too much?
Baby Jesus, what was I doing with my life?
I straightened my spine and sucked in one last breath. My eyes caught the Southside Plaza offset by a patch of trees lining the highway it was next to. It was a sad little shopping mall, but the only source of entertainment with the cinema and Sweet Frog fro-yo store attached to it. Half of the spaces inside were barred up and empty, waiting for new business to take shape, but nobody ever stayed for more than a year. Besides Wilkins, it had a tattoo parlor, JCPenney’s, Shoe Depot, and a used bookstore that was in its final stages of closing down.
My feet took me in the direction of the Lettice Highway trail that connected the residential side of Oakland to the business sector. I hadn’t really known what I was going to do when I walked into the double glass doors of my home away from home, but before I knew it I was being blasted by air conditioning and surrounded by half-priced designer clothes.
Not once had I ever purposefully left my apartment in the state of disaster I was sporting right now. My tank clung to my sweaty body, my hair was a frizzy mess coming out of my ponytail, and the spandex pants formed to my hips leaving little to the imagination.
But I didn’t care.
No, instead I let my fed-up anger push me forward while my headphones played Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” like shit was about to go down. Regardless of looking like I was chased by a bear into a river where I almost drowned, I owned the new can’t-stop-me attitude.
And when I found the man I’d subconsciously been searching for, I stopped just short of his wide eyes and stricken expression.
Nathan looked like he wanted to piss himself. Whether it was because I was struggling to breathe or was channeling my inner cat woman—claws out and all—I didn’t know. Then again, I wasn’t sure I gave a shit. His fear only fed my confidence in that exact moment.
Jabbing my pointer finger into his shoulder, I said, “You’re an asshole.”
He drew back. “Uh…”
My fists opened and clenched. “Yep. You’re a total dickwad. In fact, I don’t think the English language has a proper name for what you are. I would know. I studied it.”
He blinked like he had no idea what to say, and his silence didn’t help ease any of my irritation. How could he have nothing to say? Did he not care that a woman was telling him off? Did it happen before? Did he think I was insane?
While I was sure the crowd gathering at my obvious distaste over him probably assumed I belonged in a Strait-jacket, it didn’t stop me from the word vomit escaping my twitching lips.
“How many girls do you play games with, Nathan? Does it make you feel good about yourself? Do you sleep better in your little hammock at night knowing you fucked somebody over?”
He tried to respond, but I wouldn’t let him.
“I bet it does!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air. “I bet you get your kicks surrounded by your stupid forest and your ridiculous fog machine. And who names their dog Denny? That is a fucking diner, Nathan. Not a pet’s name.”
I remembered what my cat’s name was and backtracked. “Okay, forget that last part. Your dog is adorable and I’m not even angry at him.”
I shook it off. “But you know what? I’m done. I’m sooo over it. No more texts or plans or cuddling. I mean, seriously! Who cuddles with people they’re not interested in? Get your shit together, man! You’re not a goddamn Professional Snuggler! Yeah—that’s a thing.”
I started backing away, my arms shaking with adrenaline. “I just needed to get that off my chest, because I’m worth so much more than you could ever give me.”
The customers who gathered to see my rendition of 2007 Britney Spears didn’t make me want to duck under the jewelry counter to hide. They made me want to do a bow and mic drop before giving them the duce and walking out.
Internally, I was patting myself on the back.
My attention was drawn to the college-age girls giggling over my outburst from the juniors section. The tall blonde looked at Nathan like she might have felt sorry for him, but I was going to shut that shit down.
“FYI ladies,” I said, stopping in front of them, “he has a tiny penis.”
Even the blonde who showed minor interest joined her friends as they burst out laughing. I tipped my head and walked toward the door. But before I could make my exit, I caught eye of Rita, one of the store managers.
“Hey, Rita.” I smiled innocently.
I felt a little bad that she had to see me blowup in front of customers, because I knew how much professionalism meant to her. But I needed to invest in myself somewhere I could grow, because working with people who played women like they were Hugh Hefner royalty was not going to get me anywhere in life.
But a master’s degree? Well, it was a step up from cutting girls out of dresses.
Plus, there was no way I could show my face in this store ever again.
I patted Rita’s shoulder. “I quit.”
I calmly walked out of the store.
A hot shower was exactly what I needed after my little outing, the water easing my sore muscles and clearing my head. Wrapping a towel around my body, I brushed a comb through my damp hair and really looked at myself in the mirror.
I just told random women that Nathan had a tiny penis.
I just quit my job.
The woman’s reflection that stared back at me in the foggy mirror had no tension in her shoulders or worry weighing her lips. She was happier, lighter, and freer.
Part of me knew that Nathan didn’t deserve all that anger. The person who should have gotten a big portion of it was Caleb, but I couldn’t track his ass down as easily.
And I didn’t want to.
My anger was residual at this point. I wasn’t okay with being called Kristen or being accused that I was just like her. But I also didn’t have room to act like people didn’t make mistakes.
After all, I made myself look like a psychotic bitch in public.
Plus, he’d spent years with one person. Despite being apart for so long, he was bound to slipup somehow. Granted, I would have hoped his mistake was ordering the wrong toppings on a pizza, or assuming I was a smaller pants size—things he was used to thinking by default because of her.
I hadn’t even owned a cat for as long as their relationship lasted, so he did have a point about my lack of understanding.
Still, if he ever made me feel like that much of an idiot again, I’d have to castrate him.
Squeezing some water from my hair, I threw it behind my shoulder just as my phone sounded from the kitchen. I tried beating down the hope that blossomed in my chest like a whack-a-mole, not wanting to disappoint myself when I saw anyone but Caleb’s name across the screen.
Holding the towel tight around my body, I noticed Iris’s name and answered it right before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Paisley!”
The panic in her tone made me clench the cotton towel tightly in my palm. “What’s wrong?”
My hearted pounded with worry when she didn’t answer.
I gripped the phone tight in my hand and swallowed past the hard lump of emotion that settled in the back of my throat. “Iris? What’s going on? Is it Caleb?”
“Caleb?” she sniffled. “No, it’s Tony. I can’t get ahold of my parents, and I need somebody to watch the kids.”
Relief washed over me, my palm loosening on the towel as I sunk onto the barstool. “What happened?”
She let out a shallow breath. “There was some kind of accident at work and he hit his head. They won’t tell me anything else until I get there.”
“I’ll watch the boys, just breathe,” I directed, slipping off the stool. “I can come pick them up now.”
“I’m almost to your apartment.”
“Oh.” I padded along to my bedroom, closing the door, so I didn’t give a show to anyone who might be in window-shot. “I’m sure everything will be okay. Just take a deep breath and focus on getting the kids here safe.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
After we hung up, I quickly pulled on a maxi dress and threw my hair up in a messy bun. I had no groceries, so I dug through my delivery menus to try picking something that was kid friendly.
Mashed Potato jumped on the counter as I sped read through my options. Iris’s boys were nearly three and six, so chicken tenders or macaroni and cheese seemed like a safe bet, but I’d have to go to Burger King across town just to get them. I had no idea when Iris was arriving, and taking the boys anywhere was out of the question because I didn’t have car seats.
I looked at Mashed Potato, distraught. “I am so not ready to have kids, Tater.”
She yowled.
“Are you agreeing?” I wondered.
Her tail twitched like it always did.
I groaned. “Why am I talking to a cat?”
She took offense to that, jumping back down and strolling into the bedroom.
What if Iris’s kids were allergic to cats? I knew they had animals, but I couldn’t remember what. A dog? A hamster? Maybe it was snake. Iris seemed like a reptile person.
No, they definitely had a cat. Her oldest named him Toothless after some dragon movie I’d never seen.
I forced my focus back to food, anxious over not knowing what to do.
There were plenty of people I could have called to help. Mom for one. But that would make her ask about twenty different questions that would somehow lead to a discussion about my future as a maternal figure, and I was not ready to have that conversation with her.
Deciding against reaching out to her, I called the one person who knew these boys as well as their own parents.
Caleb didn’t pick up, making me wait until the automated voicemail cut through the never-ending ringing. I’d always avoided leaving messages no matter who I called. It was a recipe for disaster. Tripping over my words was practically a skill of mine, and knowing it was being recorded only added to the pressure.
But I was desperate for help.
Blowing out a breath as soon as the phone beeped for my recording, I said, “Listen, I know that we’re going through something weird right now, but I know nothing about kids, Caleb, and I need help. They poop a lot, right? Or is that just babies? I mean, how much shit are we talking? And do preschoolers still wear diapers? I can’t remember if Andy is in preschool or pre-k. Is it the same thing? I don’t know how to change a diaper if Max is in one. I think your sister mentioned something about bribing him with toys to use the potty, but that could have been Andy she was talking about. I imagine Andy would need to be potty trained, because how could he be accepted into school smelling like pee? I feel like that’d be a prob—”
The voicemail cut me off, which had me stomping my foot like I was the preschooler. Would he even understand my babble?
God, I was a mess.
Redialing, I leaned against the counter and waited to record my second message. “Let me try this again. I need you, Caleb. I should have reached out sooner, but I was pissed off because I didn’t want you to be just another guy who I trusted too soon. I feel like liking you this much is a bad thing. It…scares me. But not as much as watching your nephews does. If you get this can you bring child-appropriate food and a miracle? I’m going to need both.”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, this is Paisley by the way.”
I slapped my forehead, because that should have been obvious if he had caller ID.
I ended the call just as car doors slammed outside. Jogging over to my window, I peeked out to see a frazzled Iris grabbing Max from his car seat. Andy jumped out after him, dragging a Spiderman backpack on the ground and gripping an iPad with his other hand.
I quickly grabbed my keys and met them outside. “Let me help you,” I offered reaching out to grab the loaded tote bag from her arm.
She gave me a grateful look, following me into the building. “Thank you so much for doing this. I feel like I’m going to explode.”
I pulled her in for a quick hug, careful not to crush Max. “You know I’ll do this anytime you need it. That’s what friends are for.”
She passed me Max and wiped away a tear that fell down her cheek before Andy could see it.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Go on. We’ll be okay.”
She nodded, trying to keep it together in front of her kids. “I’ll call you later, okay? I don’t know what’s going to happen. I put some snacks and clothes in the bag, and I think Andy has some games in his backpack—”
“Iris! I’ve got this. Just go and drive carefully. I don’t want you to get hurt if you’re crying.”
She kissed both her boys, ruffled their hair and left before she showed them her fear.
Once the door closed, I looked down at Andy. Max squirmed in my arms, yanking on my hair.
I cringed. “That hurts, little guy.”
Andy stared up at me. “Where is Mommy?”
“She had to run an errand,” I explained, plopping the tote bag onto the counter. “Have you guys eaten?”
“No,” he answered.
I frowned, hoping he’d tell me they had just to buy me time. “Well, let’s see what your mom packed. Then I’ll order something.”
He made a face. “Mommy cooks for us.”
I winced, digging through the bag and pulling out some pretzels. If he expected me to make anything edible, he was going to be extremely disappointed.
I passed him one of the sandwich bags, giving him an amused smile. “Believe me, kid. You don’t want me to cook.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Why?”
“Eat your pretzels.”
Max yanked my hair again.
“But why?” Andy pressed.
I sighed. “I’m not a great a cook, is all. I burn things. Do you like charcoal?”
He shook his head frantically. “Santa brings that to bad kids.”
Some of the toast I burned in the past would definitely pass for coal, so I went along with it.
I crossed my arms. “I’m one of his many helpers. So, be good. I’d hate to have to put you on the naughty list.”
His eyes got big, causing me to hold back laughter. Was this parenthood—finding children’s horrors amusing?
Max reached for my hair again, but I intercepted his tiny hand before he could pull the strands again. “No, Max. How about we get you some food?”
He just blinked emptily at me with the hazel eyes he got from his father. Sticking his thumb in his mouth, he suckled and stared.
I’d played with the boys before when I visited Iris and Tony during get-togethers they had at their house. Max never said much, but he was barely three. I’d spend most of my time chasing Andy around their backyard while Max watched from one of his parents’ arms. While I knew they’d had sleepovers at their grandparents’ house, spending time here at mine was new territory.
“So, you like Spiderman?” I asked Andy, pointing toward his backpack. It looked worn down—the picture faded and torn from being dragged everywhere. “I have some of the movies. Want to watch one of them?”
He gripped his backpack and smiled big.
I grabbed some snacks for Max and had Andy follow us to the couch. “Watch your brother for a second,” I directed, setting Max in the middle. I headed toward my DVD collection, picking out Spiderman Homecoming, my personal favorite version of the superhero.
As much as I loathed arachnids, the Spiderman franchise was one of my favorites to follow. Andrew Garfield might have been hot, but it was Tom Holland’s portrayal of the young, nerdy hero that spoke to my soul.
I popped the movie in and turned the television on as Andy played a game on the iPad. Max still had his thumb in his mouth, picking apart the pretzels I’d given him and letting the crumbs coat the couch cushions.
I tried to ignore my OCD, knowing that it’d be much messier by the end of our time together.
“What do you want to eat?” I asked, sitting on the other side of them.
“Pizza!” Andy yelled enthusiastically.
I laughed. This kid and I were going to get along just fine. “That can be arranged, little man. Do you like cheese on it? Pepperoni?”
He scrunched his nose. “Cheese.”
“Boring,” I teased, playfully nudging him.
“Daddy says cheese is the best!”
Tony was picky about everything he ate, which was funny because he’d eat anything people put in front of him. But when he had a choice in the matter, he never made it easy.
I let it slide though, because my sarcasm would be lost on somebody as young as Andy. The kid was hilarious for being serious about everything, as most kids probably were.
“Is Spiderman your favorite hero?” I asked Andy before the movie started.
He munched on his snack. “I got bitted by a spider once but got no powers. Mommy told me I’d grow into them.”
I suppressed a smile. I’d probably be disappointed too if I were him. I’d been bitten by my fair share of those creepy bastards, and never had the capability of climbing walls or swinging off buildings.
Then again, I never wanted to try.
I nodded along, not wanting to burst his dreams. “Yeah, I hear powers take a while to kick in these days. Maybe if you eat your veggies, they’ll come in sooner.”
He blanched, making me giggle.
I patted his back. “Give it time, buddy.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “It’s taking forever.”
He went back to his game, dismissing me.
I glanced at Max. “Don’t you want to eat these pretzels instead of your fingers?” I picked one up and bit into it, showing him how yummy they were.
He reached out for the pretzel, so I passed him a new one from the bag. Max always wanted something if he saw other people interested in it. It was how Iris got him to eat his veggies, by pretending to love broccoli.
Well, that and she told him it was the same type of food that the vegetarian dinosaurs ate. She also informed him that mashed potatoes were magical, showing Andy and Max that they can dip the potatoes in their peas to make them stick.
Halfway through the movie, the boys were cuddling Mashed Potato in a mess of their own crumbs. I grabbed their garbage and threw it away, about to pick up the phone to call for delivery when knocks sounded from the door.
Looking through the peephole, I saw nothing but tussled dirty-blond hair and the edge of a white pizza box.
Caleb lifted the box in offering when I opened up. “I come bearing child-appropriate food. Maybe even apology pizza two-point-o.”
I didn’t he think to remark on his version of an apology before yanking him inside by his wrist.
“You’re heaven sent.”
“That’s what they tell me,” he joked, kicking the door closed with the back of his foot.
I itched to ask who ‘they’ were, but I opted to let it go. There were more precedent issues to think about than my pending jealousy.
“Guys, look who’s here! It’s Uncle Caleb!”
Andy jumped up and ran over with a wide smile on his tiny lips. I thought it was because his uncle was here and he was saved from my pitiful ass, but he asked, “Is that pizza?”
Caleb laughed, ruffling Andy’s hair. It was nearly the same shade as his, dirty-blond that looked browner in the light. You could tell they were related, since the Winters’ family had good genes passed down through the generations.
I playfully nudged Caleb’s shoulder. “Guess we know where you stand now.”
Caleb set the pizza box down on the counter. “I’m used to it. This kid is just like his mother. He has a special relationship with food.”
That sounded like the type of relationship status I should set on Facebook.
I kneeled to Andy’s height. “I like food too.”
Feeling Caleb’s stare on the back of my head, I raised back up.
“Can I have pizza now?” Andy asked.
“Yeah, come on,” Caleb directed, holding out his hand for Andy to walk over to the warm box waiting for him.
I pulled out paper plates and passed them to Caleb. He grabbed a piece for Andy and passed it to him, then got another out for Max.
“Can I have a knife?”
I nodded and grabbed one from the drawer, passing it to him and watched as he cut Max’s into tinier pieces for him.
He served the boys on the couch, pulling the coffee table closer so they could use it. Andy had already dug into his piece, having a third of it gone before Max even had a piece in his hands.
Caleb settled Max onto his lap and passed him the pieces, keeping a hold of him as he watched the movie.
It gave me a moment to soak in the sight of Caleb feeding a toddler, all three boys’ attention locked onto the television screen. This was what I wanted my future to look like—family movie days where we ate food that was bad for us and watched great movies. Days where we were just together, and life was easy.
I grabbed us both a slice of pizza and joined them, sitting down on the arm of the couch to give him space despite the cushion next to him being wide open.
He set his plate down on the coffee table, picking off a chunk of cheese and popping it into his mouth. It was strange seeing him so comfortable here after our period of avoidance.
I picked off cheese from mine, playing with it as I glanced at Caleb from the corner of my eye. What did I say? Do?
He answered my silent question. “You know, there’s room on the couch.”
I eyed the spot next to him. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to sit there or not.”
He shifted his body so it was angled toward me, keeping Max focused on the screen. “After the boys eat, we’ll talk. But I want you next to me, Paisley. I want a lot from you.”
I licked my lip hesitantly, and then slid down onto the cushion. My hip brushed against his leg, causing me to shift away.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
He bounced Max in his lap. “Don’t be.”
We sat in silence as the movie played, his arm brushing mine every now and then. Max moved to Caleb’s other thigh, giving Caleb a chance to eat his pizza with his free arm. When he finished, I brought all our plates back to the kitchen.
When I came back into the living room, Caleb patted the spot next to him, so I’d know where to sit without hesitation. As soon as I settled in, he grabbed my hand and rested it on top of his thigh, interweaving our fingers together—all while his focus stayed on the movie.
My chest eased as I stared at our hands.
Before tonight, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with us. I knew I wanted to talk to him again but couldn’t figure out what to say. Not before I’d let off some steam first. Who knew what I would have said to Caleb if I’d seen him before blowing up at Nathan?
“Smart choice with the movie,” he told me quietly, since Andy had already shushed us once when we tried to talk.
“Figured it was a safe bet.”
“You should have been at his third birthday party,” he mused, leaning toward me. “He wanted Spiderman everything. All the plates, cups, napkins, balloons, cookies, and cake were Spiderman themed. Tony dressed him up in a costume and gave him a toy web gun.”
“I bet he loved it.”
“Oh, he did.”
We sat quietly for a few minutes, just holding hands and waiting for the hidden scenes after the bloopers to appear on the screen.
“Thanks for coming over with food.”
He squeezed our palms. “You sounded like you were going to cry in your message.” He laughed. “Well, from what I understood of it. The first one was kind of jumbled.”
My face heated up. “I was stressed.”
I wasn’t sure stressed was the right word. Overwhelmed to have two kids to look after was probably better. And when Andy thought I was cooking for him? Lord, we would have all died from food poisoning. Iris would never forgive me, and I’d be locked up all because my cooking skills were nonexistent.
“I’ll stay as long as you need,” he promised.
Max let out a soft snore in Caleb’s arms, slowly falling to his side until he was propped against Caleb’s chest.
My ovaries screamed at the sight of them cuddling. How could they not? There was a hot guy holding a cute baby.
“You’ve got a little drool,” he teased, gesturing toward the corner of my mouth.
I blushed. “I’m just impressed. You’re really good with them. Max cried so loudly the first time I held him I thought the police would be called for child abuse.”
Seriously, the kid scarred me from ever holding babies again.
Caleb chuckled. “It took him a while to get used to people. But he’s doing a lot better than he was, although he’s still pretty shy.”
“I don’t see how with who his parents are.”
Iris was an eccentric person. Her personality was loud and colorful, which was why I loved her. And Tony may have been a little calmer, but not by much. They balanced each other out.
Of course, Max wasn’t his own person yet. It’ll be interesting to see who he becomes when he’s older. Even Andy’s age.
I rested my head against the back of the couch, staring at the speckled beige ceiling. “It amazes me how well Iris and Tony keep it together. I saw how hard it was for them at first, but through the house renovations, drama, and every little life event that tried knocking them down, they survived. And their kids are great.”
“Nothing in life is easy, Paisley.”
I know.
“But some things are worth it,” he added just as quietly, the implication of what he said between the lines resting in the silence between us.