Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
The next morning, Chris had somehow found himself kicked out of the kitchen. He and Erykah had come up with a menu that both the adults and the children would enjoy. Yet Mom had taken one look at the sleep-deprived expression on Erykah’s face and Chris’s usual comatose-but-awake face and told them they were off kitchen duty this Thanksgiving. Erykah had mumbled a thanks, then gone right back to sleep.
Cheyenne sat in the living room, watching TV, and when Ash woke up, he took her from the crib and fed her since he’d offered to watch the girls so Erykah could get more rest. Now Ash sat near her big sister, safely in her Pack ’n Play, eyes glued to the TV.
He really needed to try to get the girls outdoors again. Yes, it was cold, and Colorado had already seen several winter storms, but there was so much to enjoy outside. Maybe a ski trip would be fun. The docuseries had paused filming because of Thanksgiving and would pause the last two weeks of December, too, so there was plenty of time before the new year to head up to the mountains.
He grinned. Seeing Erykah on skis could be interesting. He didn’t know if she’d ever gone before or if she was someone who preferred to remain indoors by a fireplace, sipping hot chocolate.
Chris splayed out on the couch and closed his eyes. He just needed to rest them for a moment, then he’d go back in the kitchen and see if Mom needed help.
“Chris. Wake. Up.”
Someone shoved him, and he blinked his eyes open. Cheyenne’s small face frowned at him. He heard Ash crying. He jumped up. Crap! How could he have fallen asleep on kid duty?
“What happened?” he asked.
“She’s hungry. Or she stinks.” Cheye shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay.”
Ash held out her arms as he neared, and he scooped her up. She snuggled closer, but if the soggy diaper weighing on his arm could talk, she needed a change.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he murmured. “Let’s go get you changed.”
He headed down the basement stairs, then froze. Quiet sobs reached his ear. Erykah wasn’t asleep. She was grieving. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally kicking himself in the rear. Why hadn’t he checked on her this morning? When the girls were occupied, he should’ve made sure she really was sleeping and not sobbing her heart out.
Chris quickly changed the baby’s diaper, went back up the stairs, and deposited her in the Pack ’n Play.
“I’m going to go talk to your aunt. Be back, Cheye.”
“Can I have a snack?”
“Come on in here,” his mom called. “I’ll get you something.”
Cheyenne ran into the kitchen, and Chris took his cue. He had to make sure Erykah knew she wasn’t alone.
He tapped on her door. “Erykah?”
There was a slight pause in her cries. He wasn’t sure if she heard him or not, because the sounds coming from the room told him she was still hurting.
Chris twisted the knob. “I’m coming in.”
Every emotion tugged within him. Erykah lay there, curled up in a ball, tears pouring down her face. Chris said nothing. Instead, he rounded the bed and got on the opposite side. He lay on his side and scooted until he could curve an arm around her and pull her back against his chest. Spooning her close, he held her silently, letting her cry with the assurance she wasn’t alone.
Instead of her tears quieting, they seemed to get louder, as if she was allowing her emotions to freely escape now that she wasn’t by herself. Chris said nothing, simply continued to hold her. He wasn’t sure how long they lay there, but eventually her weeping ceased.
When Chris thought he couldn’t take the silence anymore, Erykah rolled over, then scooted back so she could look at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He swallowed. “I don’t know if I should be thanked for that.”
“Chris, I have a feeling I’ll be thankful for you for the rest of my life. Not because I want to embarrass you or because I think you need to hear it. But the feeling inside my chest is so overwhelming I have to let it out. And that comes out as thank-yous . Thank you for not saying anything. For not telling me it’ll be okay or any of those other platitudes that make me want to scream at the top of my lungs.” She huffed. “You just let me cry, and that’s worth more than anything you could have ever said.”
“I hate that I can’t take your pain away. But the least I can do is let you know you’re not alone.” Growing up with his mom so focused on surviving and dealing with her own grief, he’d often felt overlooked and forgotten ... alone .
Erykah stared into his eyes. Was she searching for something or thinking of what to say next?
“When were you alone? When your dad passed away, or when your engagement broke?”
He nodded slowly. “When the engagement ended, my friends didn’t know what to say so they slowly stopped calling and then disappeared altogether. My mom has never been one to really talk about emotions, which left me to wrestle with them by myself growing up. Now that I have friends I can truly count on when I need them, I know just how valuable having a community is. I never want another person to feel like I did in those dark times.”
“There is so much more to you than I realized.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
She tucked her hands under her cheeks, her gaze steady on his. “Like you’re kind to your very core. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“You know I’m not always kind, right?” Surely she didn’t think he was a saint.
“Of course not.” She snorted. “You’re only human. But even at your worst, I see that you still choose kindness. That amazes me. You amaze me.”
He needed to leave, walk out of this room, and catch his breath. The way Erykah looked at him, the way he already felt about her, nothing good would come if he stayed a moment longer.
“Let’s go get you some lunch.” He sat up, swallowing as he stared at the blank wall. Lord, please don’t let her think I’m rejecting her. Please, I just need to get out of this room and to where the kids are. His hold on his emotions was slipping pre cariously. Because all he wanted to do was turn around and kiss Dr. Erykah Kennedy until the sun went down or one of the kids started screaming. More than likely it would be the kids to interrupt, and right now he prayed Cheye would come stomping down the stairs or Ash would alert them for something.
“Chris?” Erykah asked softly.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hmm?”
“You know it’s Thanksgiving, right?”
He nodded.
“Then we can’t eat. Your mom hasn’t finished cooking.”
“True,” he rasped. “But I’m sure we can find a snack. The girls might need one.”
“You’re right.” The resignation he heard in her voice almost made him want to turn and face her. Instead, he willed one foot, then the other to move him from the bed and out of her room. Once in the basement’s open area, he let out a breath, then raggedly drew in the next. He repeated the technique until his heart felt calm and his emotions under control.
By the time he was upstairs in the main living area, Erykah was right behind him. They didn’t speak. Didn’t say anything about the moment he chose to ignore. Chris could only pray that one day he’d get the chance to explain why he’d done what he’d done.
But that would not be today.
Not when grief was fresh and her living situation up in the air. He needed to walk a fine line of helping while keeping himself accountable.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Lamont
Happy Turkey Day!
Tuck
Happy Thanksgiving, fellas!
Chr is
Happy Thanksgiving, guys. Tell the ladies the same.
Lamont
Will do. Maybe one year we’ll get together for the holiday.
Chris
That would be great.
Maybe by then he wouldn’t be alone. He glanced at Erykah, who was kneeling next to Cheyenne and playing with some dolls. Wouldn’t it be amazing if this was his life? If Erykah and the girls were a permanent fixture he wouldn’t have to say good-bye to? People he’d see every single day until the girls graduated from high school and went off to college, Erykah still by his side?
Thinking of the future didn’t help him keep his present self in control. Chris bit back a sigh and glanced back at the text thread.
Tuck
We need to get that planned, then.
Lamont
Next year?
Chris
Let’s make that happen.
Tuck
Hey, Piper wanted to know if you passed on her number to Erykah.
Uh-oh. It had totally slipped his mind.
Lamont
This is Nevaeh. Pass mine along, too, please.
Chris
I forgot. I’ll tell her right now.
He slipped his phone into his back pocket, then sat on the couch. “Hey, Erykah...”
“Yes?” She turned and stared into his face. But her closed-off expression gave him a hint of her feelings.
His neck heated. “Um, Piper wanted me to give you her number in case you ever wanted a woman to talk to.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes. And Lamont’s girlfriend offered the same.” He rubbed his neck. “I know you’ve never met Nevaeh, but the offer stands. I meant to tell you when I got back from the wedding, but...” He didn’t know what else to say. The awkwardness from earlier weighed on him.
“I appreciate that. I might take Piper’s offer. She seems really kind.”
“She is. She and Tuck are some of the best people I know.”
“With the movie star being the other?” She smirked.
Joking with her, he could do. “Sometimes the Lord puts you in front of people you never imagined you’d ever meet.”
“Do you think maybe...” She paused. “Do you think maybe we could go to church this Sunday?”
Something inside him stilled. “Of course.” What did that mean? Did that mean—
“I want to go to church!” Cheye’s head swiveled away from her dolls, and she raised up on her knees. “Do you have a Bible like my mama? She would read to me.”
Erykah’s eyes teared up, so Chris spoke to Cheye. “What did her Bible look like?”
“It was pink. She colored in it.”
Was she talking about a journal Bible? “That sounds cool. Mine doesn’t have pictures. No lines to write on.”
“Oh. What about you, Auntie Erykah?”
She sniffed. “Mine is like Chris’s, but your mama bought it for me, so it’s extra special.”
“Wo w,” Cheye whispered.
“Maybe I can find one for you,” Chris offered. “Do you want one you can color in?”
She nodded.
“Then I’ll find you one.”
“Thanks, Chris.”
Erykah looked at him. She didn’t say thank you , but he heard it clear as day. He smiled and said nothing more. There was no need to.