Chapter Two
“Sorry!” my sister-in-law Katie says as she hurries through my door with a car seat over the crook of her elbow, a diaper bag slung over her other arm, and a two-year-old clutching her forefinger.
I quickly take the car seat holding my newest nephew and let her drop her Mom Luggage onto my couch.
“Chase here decided to poop all over his new outfit with a million snaps the second I got him strapped in the car,” Katie rushes out, taking off her jacket with a skill only a mom can have with a toddler still clinging to her hand.
“You’d think I would’ve learned from the first kid to only dress babies in onesies before going anywhere.”
I nod like I know what she’s talking about—I don’t.
I just want to hold the baby.
I crouch down and unbuckle the little pooper, grateful he’s already gotten that out of the way.
“Okay…” Katie breathes out, clapping her now-free hands together before bending to her bag.
“I brought chocolate and red velvet because you have a thing for both, and raspberry filling for whatever you decide on. What one are you craving— Don’t lick the cat, Claire! I can do one or the other or both.”
She grins as she holds the cake mixes up, and I give her a look that answers the question she should’ve already known the answer to.
She laughs and takes both boxes to the kitchen while I finally get little Chase unhooked from his car seat and watch Claire spit out cat fur onto my freshly shampooed carpet.
“Naughty pants,” I tease my niece with the nickname I gave her as soon as she came out of utero and yanked seven hairs clean from my head.
Katie had a homebirth—and I will not relive witnessing that experience—and as soon as little Claire was out, my brother Jim handed her to me, the woman with the towel.
If you don’t think it’s possible to get beat up by a newborn, I have proof—in the form of a cheek scar—that it is inarguably possible.
I snuggle Chase in his deep blue fleece blanket, Eskimo kissing him as I follow the clang and crash sounds coming from the kitchen.
Now this baby… he’s the only one who’s come close to convincing me that kids aren’t so bad.
The quiet cuddler, the fresh baby smell, and the perfect softness…
sigh. It’s tempting to try to make one of these guys for myself.
“Claire!” Katie scolds without even turning from the cupboard.
“Put the marker down.”
I whip around to see my niece, Sharpie poised up against my wall.
Her sweet face contorts into a red fit of rage as she chucks the open marker across the floor before falling flat against the tile.
The high-pitched scream is enough to wake a dead man, but little Chase must be used to it because all he does is stir a bit before snuggling back into my chest. Katie continues pulling out ingredients as if nothing is going on around us.
I’m instantly reminded why kids are not for me.
“You going out tonight?” Katie asks, eyes flicking up as she sets a metal bowl on the counter and reaches for the cake mixes.
I nuzzle my nephew, shaking my head and saying in a baby voice I only pull out in front of present company.
“Auntie Maya wants to spend her birthday lounging around her house, yes she does.” Katie must not have heard the grumble in my voice earlier when she told me she was coming over and that meant I had to put clothes on.
So much for Naked Sundays.
Katie lets out a long sigh, dumping the mix into the bowl and dusting the counter top with red powder.
“I would pay for a birthday like that.”
Claire’s screams change pitch, and one decibel higher and only dogs will be able to hear her.
“I can’t imagine why,” I tease, then press a kiss to Chase’s head and swivel around to take a seat at my dining table.
The first few times Katie made my birthday cake, I stood around asking if I could help with anything with awkward, mumbled words.
Now that it’s an annual thing—and we’re much closer now—I pull up a high-backed, velvety dining chair and chat while she experiments.
She used to make every cake from scratch, but since the kids came, box mixes have become the norm.
I’m not complaining; cake is cake, and I’m thrilled to have a sister-in-law who cares enough to feed me chocolate even in her chaotic life.
“Want to hear a funny story?” I ask, settling in with Chase in my seat.
“Always. ”
“I got kissed this morning.”
Her eyes widen, and she accidentally cracks egg shell into the bowl.
“Oh! Did Vince come over?”
It takes everything in me to not respond with, “Who?” Vince, Vince …
do I know a Vince?
Katie laughs, my confusion obviously written all over my face.
She shakes her head and looks down at the cake mix as she picks out the shell pieces.
“Well, that explains why I never heard anything about— Claire! Please stoooop —that particular date from either of you. I guess I have to take matchmaker off of my resume.”
My niece finally eases up, flopping her arms down on the tile and silently huffing at the ceiling.
If the girl had a white flag, it would soon rise above her defeated little body.
With the sudden drop in noise, my brain is able to conjure up a blurry memory of a blind date I had not too long ago, but obviously long enough.
I laugh at myself, giving Katie an apologetic grin.
“Right… Vince. He was… fun.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“Only with you.” She should see me in my realtor’s blazer.
I could sell a sandbox to a fish.
She rolls her eyes and searches for a whisk.
“So, who was he?”
“He’s… well, I’m not really su—”
A tug on my pant leg pulls my attention down to my niece and her watery eyes.
“Neeta darou wing. Pweese?”
I raise an eyebrow to the two-year-old translator.
Katie leans against the counter as she stirs.
“Do you have anything she can color on?”
“Drawer right by your hip. I should have some notepad paper in there.” I’ve long since learned not to ask how in the world she knew what the toddler was saying.
Moms have super powers—ones I cannot fathom ever possessing.
“Here you go, sweetie,” Katie says, handing over a notepad and the attached pencil.
I smile at the fact that she still calls that screaming child sweet.
Katie tells her to go color at the coffee table in the other room, and then she turns to me.
“Sorry. You were kissed this morning…?”
“Yes.” I pause not only for emphasis but to leave room for any more possible interruptions.
“By a new neighbor I’ve spoken maybe four words to.”
She jerks her head, her nose wrinkling as if the cake was suddenly made with rotten eggs.
“Please elaborate.”
I lean in, granting her request, even telling her in great detail the cut lines on this man.
She listens with intense fascination, stirring the cake batter so lazily I bet the ingredients could easily be separated.
I’m not much of a story teller, never having stories to tell, so I really get into this one.
After all, it’s not every day you get kissed by a Grecian God.
“Wow,” she says, her voice still laced with shock.
She pushes up off her arm, straightening to mix the batter accurately now that I’m done talking.
“I hope he doesn’t have herpes.”
I snort, but there’s a plunge in my stomach that makes me shift Chase in my arms. That would be just my luck; I better keep my lips away from the baby until I know I’m in the clear.
“What’d you say to him?” she asks as she digs for a cake pan in the drawer under my oven.
“Nothing. He took off before I realized what was happening.”
She sets the glass pan on the counter and nibbles on her bottom lip.
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Maybe we should stay with you tonight.”
Claire starts singing with her very powerful vocal cords from the other room.
“I’m good. I really think he’s harmless.”
“I’m worried.”
“You’re always worried.” I nod to Chase in my arms. “I think it’s in your job description.”
She gives me a look like she wants to argue, but she isn’t going to.
Thankfully the conversation is interrupted again…
this time by me.
“Oh, it’s Sarah,” I say, looking down at my buzzing phone.
“Give me a sec.”
Shifting Chase, I push up off the chair and take the call in my living room.
It must be big news if Sarah’s calling on my day off and my birthday.
I anxiously swipe the answer button.
“Hey!”
“It’s a big one, Maya,” she says, getting right down to business; it’s why we get along.
“The buyer’s coming in early tomorrow , looking for someone to help him buy a property up on Rose Summit.”
My heart soars up into my throat.
“What time?”
“He scheduled an appointment at 7:30, but I’d get here at—”
“7:00. Yeah, I’m on it. Thank you .”
“No problem, boss.”
I click off and happy dance with my phone in one hand, newborn nephew in the other.
Rose Summit is full of million dollar properties.
Multi-million dollar properties.
The commission on that sucker…
hello vacation!
The beeps from my oven timer sound through the room, and a few seconds later Katie appears in the archway, wiping her hands off on her jeans.
“We’ve got a little bit. Did you record The Bachelor ?”
“ MOM! ” Claire screams from the formal living room.
“Leru a poopa fleur.”
Katie sighs, her shoulders slumping as she’s summoned.
She points to the remote, silently telling me to at least get the show started, before she trudges her way to her toddler.
And though I still didn’t catch what Claire was saying, by the look on my sister-in-law’s face, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.