Chapter 18
Parker
“I think we just tape a sign on the door or something,” Poppy stated, arching her hands in the air like she could visualize it. “A nice big one.”
From my seat at the dining room table, I gave her an unamused look, which she ignored. She was in Dad’s old recliner because she liked having her feet propped up, and one hand moved almost continuously over her belly.
Even though it was Poppy, and even though I’d been here a few times since he died, every time I saw that fucking chair was a punch to the gut. I let out a slow breath and tore my eyes away.
“A sign?” Anya asked. She was in the kitchen making a sandwich, and I tried to decide whether it was too early to tap, tap, tap myself right back up to the privacy of my old bedroom.
Which I’d be sharing with Anya and Leo.
Just a casual little sleepover with the two people who threw my entire fucking life upside down. If I slept poorly before, it was almost a guarantee I wouldn’t get much now.
Poppy shrugged. “It’s either that or a group text, and I get the distinct impression, based on how he’s glaring at me right now, that he’ll say no to that too.”
“You always were a perceptive little shit, weren’t you?”
She glared right back. “Be nice to the pregnant lady. I have wild mood swings, and who knows what I’ll do in the middle of a hormonal surge.”
“Where’s your baby daddy?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Jax is at work.” She popped a piece of candy in her mouth. “He’ll be over when he’s done.”
“Anya, sweetheart, could you hand me that burp cloth?” Sheila asked. Anya set down her sandwich, still chewing as she fished around in the diaper bag and draped it over my mom’s shoulder. Even though it was only two of them, the Wilder women present for our arrival were already half in love with my wife. No real surprise there. Poppy was positively enamored, already asking when we could come back, and why, in God’s name, had she agreed to marry me.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say copious amounts of alcohol, but I didn’t think that would help anything, and my self-destructive streak would not be appreciated by any of the women in the room.
Anya ran her hand over Leo’s head, and my heart turned over behind my ribs. It was unthinking, how she’d done it. A loving gesture that seemed so easy, didn’t it? Yet I couldn’t bring myself to come within two feet of him. Sheila gave her a smile and set the empty bottle down, shifting him up onto her shoulder so she could pat his back.
She’d yet to concede hold of Leo. No surprise there either.
Over her shoulder, I swear that kid looked straight at me, and my chest did this weird pinching thing as I stared at his face. The weight of Poppy’s gaze on my face was heavy, and instead of telling her to knock it off, I just looked at it as practice.
Because once my other siblings arrived? One sister watching me was fucking child’s play.
“Why is there a sign on the door that says Parker has a baby?”
Greer was the first one to arrive. Behind her was Beckett, and Olive perched on his back, her little arms wrapped around his neck.
I swung an incredulous look at Poppy. “When did you do that?”
She smiled innocently from the kitchen. “When you brought all your bags upstairs. Thanks for taking so long, by the way.”
Greer immediately locked in on the baby, still sound asleep in Sheila’s arms. “Holy fucking shit, is that thing real?”
Olive whispered something in Beckett’s ears, and he grinned. “Yeah, sweetpea, Greer did say a really bad word. I think we’ll allow it right now.”
“I want to hold him,” Greer stated, shucking the duffel bag off her shoulder, holding out her arms and making a gimme gesture.
“Oh honey, he’s comfortable right where he is.” Sheila’s voice was all fake sympathy. Then she smiled at her daughter. “But there are some dishes that need cleaning up in the kitchen. That’d be a huge help if you want to start there.”
“Yeah, right. Parker can do the dishes. He’s just sitting there being useless.”
Anya let out a tiny snort, and I gave her a glance. “Don’t laugh at anything Greer says. It only encourages her horrible behavior.”
I stood, gathering my empty plate and then Anya’s.
Greer and I passed each other—I was on the way to rip down the sign, and she was making a beeline for the baby. I tried to pinch her arm with my free hand, and she dodged nimbly to the right, landing a sharp smack on the back of my head.
“Nice to see you too,” I called over my shoulder.
“You have a baby, and you didn’t tell me about it,” she called right back.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know about his existence until last night, so maybe cut me a little slack.”
Once the plates were stacked in the dishwasher, I marched to the door and snatched the paper off the outside.
“Hey, that was helpful,” Poppy exclaimed.
Important Family Announcement , it stated.
Parker has a baby. It’s all very soap opera, but he was dropped off last night with no warning.
-No, we don’t know anything about the mom.
-Yes, it was during his manwhore phase.
-Yes, he did a paternity test, and we’re waiting on the results. His name is Leo, he’s really cute, and you’re not allowed to ask Parker too many questions because he gets that twitchy look in his eye.
-No, Mom will not be sharing the baby at this point in time. Please wait one business day before requesting to hold him. She’s kindly asked that you “feed your damn selves” if she’s in the middle of active grandparenting.
I gave Poppy an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”
She lightly shrugged one shoulder. “It worked, though, didn’t it? Greer didn’t ask any questions.”
“Yet,” Greer answered ominously.
Anya watched the two sisters with unbridled glee.
“What are you smiling about?” I asked.
She arched an eyebrow in my direction. “You didn’t tell me we’d get so much entertainment while we’re here.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “It’s an unfortunate side effect of any visit back home. They literally can’t help themselves.”
Sheila laughed.
Greer pointed at the sign. “Put it back up. That shit is genius.”
Beckett slapped me on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Welcome to the dad club.”
Olive plucked the sign out of my hand. Greer hopped up from the couch and took it from her, dropping a kiss on her stepdaughter’s cheek. “Well done, Olive,” she told her.
I gave Olive a fake growl, tickling her side until she laughed, tucking her face into her dad’s neck. I could feel Anya’s eyes on me again, but she wasn’t really trying to hide it.
Greer ducked past me and slapped the sign back on the door, setting her hands on her hips. “When does everyone else get here?”
Poppy was doing something on her camera. “Ian and Harlow will be here soon. Cameron and Ivy are working late, so it’ll be after dinner. Erik is coming in from Seattle with little Isla, but Lydia couldn’t come with him because she had a work conflict. They’re staying in the guesthouse.”
“What are you doing, Poppy?” Sheila asked.
She hooked her phone into a weird circle contraption on three legs. “I told you I was going to film the arrivals. Not sure why anyone thought I was kidding.”
I marched into the kitchen, but she spread her arms out. “Take it down,” I commanded.
“Oh come on, at least let me film one. We can watch it in a few years, and it’ll be hilarious.”
“To you,” I said darkly.
“Can I hold him now?” Greer asked Sheila.
Sheila stared down at Leo. “Not a chance, honey. Not a chance.”
It took Greer three hours to wait out my mom. The moment Sheila sighed in frustration, and admitted she’d had to pee for the last two hours, Greer whooped triumphantly and snatched Leo right out of her arms.
“Oh, he’s so kissable,” she proclaimed, snuggling him up against her face. “I’m your Auntie Greer, and it’s okay if I’m your favorite. Everyone will understand.”
The chorus of groans from the kitchen, mostly from my brothers, made Anya laugh.
All evening, I’d been able to watch.
Watch my family process the news of the baby. My brothers were shockingly nonplussed. Ian, my oldest brother and definitely the most stoic, simply blinked down at the baby, proclaimed him cute, and smacked me on the back. Cameron raised an eyebrow and got his hand hit by Sheila when he tried to take the baby. Ivy, my future sister-in-law—a sharp, no-nonsense ballbuster who was single-handedly commandeering the family’s business into the stratosphere—studied Leo with a shrewd expression on her face and immediately started researching Oregon parental abandonment laws. She didn’t even stop to play chess with anyone, which was telling.
I watched Anya too. Watched her interact with every single one of them with a big smile, and easy answers, and the kind of spark in her eyes that absolutely no one could ever fake. They asked her about Vida’s nonprofit. Asked her about her family. To tell stories about Emmett we hadn’t heard before. My brothers asked her about her dad, laughing heartily at her stories of being raised by a beast of a fighter and how that benefited her growing up.
And last, I watched Sheila. Watched her fall head over heels in love with that little kid, and every time she refused to hand him over, when she changed his diaper and kissed his cheeks and rocked him back to sleep with an adoring smile on her face, it was like an invisible wrench was locked underneath my ribs, tightening over and over, until it was a little hard to breathe right.
For once though, I wasn’t the center of attention, wasn’t the center of everyone’s concern, and that felt really fucking good. Everything else though, that was a tangled mess that I wasn’t ready to touch with a ten foot pole.
“How did he sleep last night, Parker?” Greer asked from the couch. She had her fingers in Leo’s tight fists, leaning down to kiss right on his belly.
I cut Anya a slightly panicked look, and she answered smoothly. “Woke up twice,” she said. “But he went right back down after a few ounces.”
“That’s not too bad,” my sister answered.
Ian’s wife Harlow was sitting next to Greer, and she was smiling at whatever the baby was doing when she glanced up at me. She was pregnant too, though not as far along as Poppy. “It must be hard to get settled in newlywed life when something like this happens.”
Anya was sitting across the dining room table, and we shared a brief look. The edges of her lips curled up like she wanted to laugh. “A little,” she conceded. “I guess we’re just not doing any of this the normal way, are we?”
Sheila came out of the bathroom and stopped behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders for a hug from behind. “Speaking of newlyweds, I have something for the two of you.”
“Mom, you didn’t need to do that.”
She patted my shoulders as she released me. “I know, sweetheart. But it just kills me that we didn’t get to be a part of your big night. Was it romantic? I bet it was.”
Anya choked on a potato chip, and with a wry arch to my brow, I leaned forward and pushed her glass of water closer. She held my gaze as she sipped slowly.
“Parker was so stingy with details,” Sheila continued.
“All the boys are like that,” Poppy muttered. “It’s like they’re biologically wired to filter out eighty percent of the pertinent information.”
“Maybe twenty percent of the story is all you need to know,” Jax answered, his arm slung casually over my sister’s shoulders. He was absently playing with her hair.
She rolled her eyes. “I want to know all of it, though.”
“I know, angel, I know.” He gave her a soft kiss.
Sheila had ducked into the kitchen and set the white cake box in the middle of the kitchen counter. When we didn’t make a move to join her, she gave me an exasperated look. “Up, Parker. My standing here indicates I’d like you to move.”
Now would’ve been a great time for Leo to start screaming as a distraction because every single eye in the room was watching us. Anya adjusted the ponytail at the top of her head as she stood, and I clocked it as one of her rare nervous gestures. Her cheeks were holding the slightest blush, and my hand hovered just over the small of her back as we rounded the corner into the kitchen.
With the way the house was set up, it was like we were on a stage, and all my nosy fucking siblings were now settling in to watch the newlywed show. My stomach flipped with sudden nerves, and I heard Anya let out a long, quiet exhale next to me. Her shoulder brushed the front of my chest, and I didn’t back away from the contact.
Powerful thing, touch was. Especially hers.
When Anya touched me, even if she didn’t mean to, it was like I suddenly found myself grounded. Like my feet were planted more firmly on the surface of the earth. Like my head was just a little bit more clear.
Sheila pried open the cake box, and Anya leaned forward, letting out a little gasp.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Did you make that?”
Sheila’s cheeks were flushed as she nodded. “Never got to make a wedding cake for any of my kids before, so I thought this would be the perfect time to try.”
Gently, she unhooked the sides of the box so she didn’t have to lift it out, and I found myself smiling when I finally saw it. It was just one tier, but it looked straight out of a magazine.
The white frosting of the outside layer had been etched to look like birch wood, and in the front of the cake, she’d used a thin tool to make it look like we’d carved our initials into a tree. Surrounding the P + A was a perfectly shaped heart. On the top of the cake, she’d created a small grouping of blossoms, soft pink petals with black and white centers. Three of them. The smallest one was a darker shade of pink, and at the base of the flowers, she bunched some blackberries, and a stick of greenery bending with the circle of the cake.
“Holy shit, Mom,” Greer said, mouth agape. “I’m sending your ass to the Great British Bake-off .”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Except she’s not British.”
Greer gave him a look. “You are so lucky I have a baby in my hands right now.”
“So it’s the perfect time for me to give you all the shit I want? Noted.”
Sheila didn’t so much as bat an eye, sliding a cake knife from the drawer in front of her and handing it to me.
“How do you ignore them so easily?” I asked.
“Years and years of practice,” Sheila answered smoothly. “The cake is lemon poppyseed with a blackberry jam filling.”
I let Anya take a couple of pictures before I sliced through the middle of the cake, then made a second cut to slide out the first piece onto a white plate.
My sisters oohed at the sight of the layers inside the cake. Cameron marched into the kitchen and snagged a fork, taking a seat right in front of us with an impatient look on his face. I rolled my eyes and snatched it away from him. “Get your own wedding cake.”
“I hope I’m not supposed to share this with him,” Anya said, swiping her finger through the frosting. The sight of her finger in her mouth had my stomach tightening, as did the contented moan she let out as she sucked off the last of the frosting.
Sheila laughed. “Honey, you do whatever you want with it. It’s your cake. But I would like one video of you two feeding each other a bite, if you don’t mind.”
The air went thick when Anya’s gaze shifted up to mine and held. Her blue shirt made her eyes electric, and I swallowed hard at the proximity after most of the day was spent at a safe distance.
Anya snapped the tension by looking away, scooping a bite of the cake onto a fork. Then she carefully picked it up between two fingers and held it toward my mouth, her eyes glinting devilishly.
“Be nice,” I told her. “Payback’s a bitch if you’re not.”
“You’d smash cake in your wife’s face? That’s not very polite.”
I leaned down and snatched the bite of cake off her outstretched hand, allowing my teeth to graze her fingertips. The flavors were perfect. Light, fluffy cake, the punch of the blackberries, and I let out a small grunt as I finished chewing. Her cheeks were red now, the flush spreading across her chest. I swallowed, licking at the corner of my mouth when the cake was gone. “Never said I was polite, did I?”
There were only a few people close enough to hear us.
Ivy smirked. Cameron’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead, and behind her phone as she filmed, Sheila dabbed at some happy tears on her cheeks.
I cut off another corner, holding it up for Anya, and she gave me a warning look when I grinned. She didn’t nip at my fingers, but her tongue brushed the pad of my thumb, and I watched the movement of her jaw as she chewed and the helpless flutter of her eyelids at the taste of the cake.
A speck of frosting clung to the curve of her lip, and the temptation to kiss it off almost brought me to my knees. Instead, I used my thumb to brush it off, then sucked that into my mouth while her eyes tracked the movement.
“Now kiss your wife,” Sheila stated.
My eyes snapped in her direction. “What?”
Anya coughed around her bite of cake. I swear, if my wife survived all the shit this family pulled, it would be a miracle.
Sheila arched an eyebrow. “You heard me. We missed everything. You’re lucky I’m not making you repeat your vows in the backyard.”
“Oh, let’s do that!” Poppy said.
I gave her a dark look. “Can you not encourage her?”
Poppy sighed. “You boys are no fun.”
Sheila clapped her hands, sliding her readers from the top of her head onto her nose while she fumbled with her phone. “Come on now, I’m not getting any younger. Kiss your wife, Parker, just like you did at your wedding.”
I didn’t kiss my wife at our wedding.
Anya’s eyes were big in her face, something about the mention of the ceremony had her looking up at me like she was the one ready to tap out. Carefully, I set down the knife and turned to face her. The room was so quiet, I was sure they could hear the hammering of my pulse as I cupped her face in both hands.
Her eyelids fluttered, and I tried not to think about how I shouldn’t be doing this. That this was a bad idea after what we’d already done, after trying to tug some boundaries into place that were too little, too late.
My thumbs swept over her cheekbones, and Anya’s hands curled into my shirt at my waist.
The expectant hush in the kitchen stretched the moment into something surprisingly delicate.
Without overthinking it, I dipped my head down and teased Anya’s mouth with mine, softly brushing my tongue over the seam of her lips. She opened on a quiet sigh, her body melting into mine.
This was the first kiss we should have had. The one I thought about in the loud, gaudy chapel filled with strangers. It felt like a promise of something, and I wasn’t entirely sure what, or if I was capable of keeping it. We didn’t linger, and I plucked at the last shred of restraint left and pulled back, dropping one last soft kiss on her sweet lips.
Her eyes didn’t open right away, and it wasn’t until her pointer finger twitched against my wrist that I even noticed she’d moved her hands.
Tap, tap, tap.
Anya opened her eyes, and we held there for a moment.
Too much. It was too much for her. For some reason, she looked like she was about to cry. My brows furrowed, and I fought the urge to let her hide her face against my chest. Then she blinked, and the haunted look disappeared.
“Okay then,” Ivy murmured. “I feel like I need a cigarette.” A ripple of laughter moved through the room, and having the attention shift made it easier to breathe. Ivy’s face brightened. “Sheila, will you make a little cake like this for Cameron’s and my wedding?”
Mom’s face went slack with shock. “You’d want me to? Won’t you have a big, fancy bakery do that?”
She waved that off. “They can make something for everyone else. I want you to make the important one.”
The tears were instant, Sheila sniffling them away as she dashed a hand under her eye. “Well, sweetheart, I’d be happy to.”
“No trees, though,” Ivy said, eyeing the remnants on the counter. “Bit too outdoorsy for me.”
Behind her, one of my sisters snickered.
My brother hauled her on his lap with a grin. “You’re not going to help bake that little cake, are you?”
“No, why?”
“No reason,” he muttered.
I glanced at him, and he shook his head. Ivy’s recent forays into baking were … questionable. She had many, many talents, but baking wasn’t one of them.
“I just want some of that freaking cake,” Cameron said.
I let out a slow breath and pushed the rest of the cake in his direction. “Help yourself.”
While he divvied up the rest to share, I let my hand slide across Anya’s back as I moved behind her to wrap Sheila in a hug.
“Thank you,” I told her, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m so happy, Parker,” she said, squeezing me as tightly as she could manage. “I’m just … I’m so happy, honey.”
Anya’s eyes caught mine over the top of her head, and I battled a sharp pang of guilt as it slipped through my ribs and wormed up through my chest.
We finished the cake, and Anya played a card game with Ian, Harlow and Ian’s stepdaughter, Sage, while I got roped into a round of Chutes and Ladders with Olive and Beckett. She won, handily, and the smug, little smile she gave me had me laughing loudly enough that I caught a wordless glance shared between my brothers.
By the time my siblings left and I helped Sheila finish cleaning in the kitchen, Anya was giving Leo his last bottle for the night.
“Do the two of you need anything for your room?” Sheila asked. “Normally, I put an extra quilt in the closet, but Parker is always such a furnace, I’m sure you won’t need one.”
Anya’s eyes stayed locked on the baby, but I saw the flush of red over her chest. “Thanks, Sheila, I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”
Mom gave me a kiss, then walked over to Anya to kiss the baby and cup the side of Anya’s face. “Good night, sweetie.”
With my shoulder leaning against the wall, I watched Sheila disappear into her room and close the door. Almost a year she’d been sleeping in that room by herself, and I had to wonder if it still felt strange.
I didn’t allow myself to follow that thread because the entire day had given me such whiplash that I was one step past tired—a bone-deep exhaustion that almost hurt. I turned off all the lights, made sure the doors were locked, and followed Anya up the stairs, carrying Leo’s bag in one hand.
She shifted him in her arms, and his little frown lines appeared just above her shoulder. My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. I disappeared into the bathroom first, brushing my teeth and splashing some cold water on my face, allowing my head to hang down while the water dripped off my chin and into the sink.
By the time I toweled off my face and walked across the hall into my old room, Anya had settled a sleeping Leo into his bassinet and changed into a big, baggy T-shirt that hung past her hips, the ratty hem of her sleep shorts the only thing that told me she was wearing anything else.
It wasn’t the Bob Marley shirt, and something in my chest unclenched that she’d been thoughtful enough not to pack that one. Her eyes snagged on mine briefly before I tugged at the back of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
We danced around each other in the room, which didn’t have much space beyond the king-sized bed in the middle, a desk tucked into the corner, and a dresser on the far wall opposite of the double closet. The big window in the middle overlooked the backyard, and Anya pulled the shades down, keeping her back conspicuously turned while I shucked off my shorts and traded them for some lightweight joggers.
“Which side do you prefer?” she asked, her back still turned.
“You can sleep by the baby,” I told her.
When Anya turned around, her eyes dipped to my bare chest, then she breathed an audible sigh of relief at the sight of my joggers. Her attention shifted to the baby, and she smiled faintly at the little snuffling sound he made in his sleep.
“When do you think your family will realize you haven’t been holding him?”
My chest was tight as I pulled back the sheets on the bed and slid underneath. With an arm braced behind my head, I watched her do the same. Anya adjusted the pillows, staying firmly on her side of the bed. Between us was a substantial amount of mattress, and it was probably best that it remain that way.
“Not long,” I said with a wry grin. “Unfortunately, they’re like bloodhounds when it comes to sniffing out when something’s wrong. It’s really fucking annoying.”
Her eyes were serious. “Because they love you.”
“I suppose.”
A stray piece of hair slid down her cheek, and unable to help myself, I reached out and pushed it back behind her ear. Anya’s eyes fluttered shut. “We can’t,” she whispered.
“What if we pretend we can?”
Her breath was unsteady, and it took her a long moment to open her eyes. “Parker …”
“I know,” I rasped. I exhaled slowly, turning onto my back to rest my hands on my stomach as I tried to wrench my thoughts under control. Being home was harder than I thought. The memories seeped in the walls, and I couldn’t look anywhere without feeling an explosion. One after another after another. But losing myself in her … it was fucking bliss. Everything in my head went staticky quiet, my focus sharpening to her and her alone. What made her eyes go hazy. What made those little sounds escape her sweet mouth. What made her legs shake and her toes curl. I could do that. Make her feel incredible.
Losing myself in her was the best kind of diversion from … everything. All the shit I couldn’t erase, all the things resurfaced from being back here. If I kissed her, she’d melt. We’d melt into each other, and in my head, it was so easy to tell myself that it wouldn’t hurt anything.
But tomorrow, we’d still have all the same problems. I would have all the same problems. So instead of pushing it, I lay there and stared at the ceiling until the sound of Anya’s breathing went slow and steady and even. Only then did I close my eyes, but it was a long time before sleep claimed me.