Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Belle threw her book across the room, and it smacked Merida right in the face, causing the little one to scream.
“Belle, you pick that up right now and apologize to your sister.”
Belle put her hands on her hips and glared at him, sticking out her tongue. “I will not. You can’t make me.”
Pete stood up and stayed calm, breathing. “Go to your room and stay there in a timeout until you can be a decent human being.”
“No, you are not my dad!”
“No, I’m not, but I am the adult in charge. To your room, now.” Pete met her heightened energy with the calmness of his own.
He was going to be the goddamn queen of not losing his temper right now.
Merida came, wrapped around his leg, and held on. “Ouch! It hurted!”
Bay came down the stairs as Belle marched up them, body tight, glare just wicked.
“Everything okay? I heard shouting?”
“Someone’s having a bad day and hit her baby sister in the face with a book. Let me see, sweet pea.” Pete lifted her little face and looked, not finding so much as a mark. “You’re fine. Belle’s not in a good mood, hmm? You know how that feels.”
She nodded, sniffling. “I go give snuggles?”
“Oh sweet baby, maybe not right now. How about we just go have a sit and color in your color book, and I’ll see how she’s doing in a little bit.”
Then they could both be calm, and Pete wouldn’t feel like screaming at her.
“Do you need me to do anything?” Bay asked, looking an awful lot like he was hoping Pete would say no.
“Tell me that, at some point, there is a glass of wine in my future?”
“Wine I can help you with. Tonight? After the kids are in bed?”
“Lord yes, I need it.” Pete knew that Belle had reasons to be angry, and they were taking the older two to see the therapist. Pamela said that how she was responding was perfectly normal, but it didn’t make it easy.
“Wine and something decadent to munch on. Leave it with me. We’ll have a little bit of no drama child-free time.”
“Oh, promise? That sounds amazing.” He might have been whining a little bit, but he really could use some adult time talking about ridiculous things. Maybe watching a television show.
“I promise.” Bay grabbed his phone and winked. “I’m putting Will on it so the munchies will be top notch and so will the wine.”
“That sounds exceptional. I like whites and rosés, especially when it’s warm. When it’s spaghetti and meatball season, I totally will drink a red, but I like whites when it’s warm.”
This was the nicest thing anybody had done for him in a while.
“Whites and rosés, you got it. And munchies. Hey, you know what? Why don’t we feed just the kids at supper and then we’ll have an actual meal with our wine afterward?”
“That sounds great. That means I can do something simple for supper.” Macaroni and cheese and green beans, ho.
“Cool.” Will glanced at his watch. “I have a few things I’ve got left to do, but I’ll try to help with the dinner and bedtime routine.”
“Well, thank you,” he grinned, nodding. “It’s going to be mac and cheese and green beans. Everybody should be super happy. Well, except for Belle.” He winked at Bay. “But don’t worry, go get your work done and I’ll work on mine here.”
He loved being able to deal with the kids usually, he just hated that Belle was so sad, and he worried a little bit that Eric seemed to be okay.
And he was tired. Heartsore and tired.
He was even more tired several hours later when he got everyone down to bed and took himself downstairs to meet Bay.
“Hey there, they are all finally asleep, even Mr. Cranky Pants I Have a Gassy Tummy.” Which was sort of mean because Flynn was an angel, so good-natured and happy that when it was rough, it was terrible.
“Great.” Will looked at his phone, then jumped up. “I told them not to ring,” he noted as he jogged to the front door to keep the delivery driver from being tempted by the bell.
“Oh so smart.” He might have literally hit someone in the head if they rang the doorbell and awakened the children. He was at the end of a slew of challenging days, and his attitude was not the best.
He went to clean off the coffee table so they’d have a place to sit and eat that wasn’t the formal dinning room.
Bay returned a moment later, carrying with him several bags. “If you can grab the wineglasses and a corkscrew? I’d do it, but I think it would be faster if you did as you know where everything is.”
“Sure, no problem.” He went to the hutch, that was basically the bar, grabbed two glasses and a corkscrew.
“It was so funny. When they decided to make this,” Pete explained.
“They had decided—oh I think it was absolutely between Eric and Merida—that they were going to be the kind of people who gave huge fancy dinner parties. I mean, they had a nanny after all. So they bought this hutch and got all this booze and bar equipment and then never had a single party.”
Bay laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. Tony always did love going to a party, but he never wanted to host. When we were younger, anyway. He liked the freedom of just being a guest.”
“That sounds about right, but it’s a beautiful hutch, and I love that it locks. At some point when the kids get old enough, we’ll have to actually hide the key…”
Pete sat down. The thin stemmed glasses settled on the table, and he handed over the corkscrew. “I’m not very good at opening, so I’ll let you.”
“I’m excellent at it. This is a lovely reisling. And we’ve got a selection of canapés to start along with surf and turf mains from The Keg. I’ve left it all in the take-out boxes. No dishes that way.”
“Oh my god, how fancy! Thank you! I wasn’t expecting all of this.” He didn’t suggest, of course, that Bay shouldn’t have done it because he loved it and he wasn’t going to say that.
“I thought it would be nice to indulge a little as we’re having the wine and some adult time. If you aren’t going to take some actual time off, you deserve at least a break.” Bay held out his wineglass toward Pete.
“Thank you. I—Thank you very much.” His cheeks were burning.
Bay clinked their glasses together, then took a sip of the wine. “Oh, this is nice.”
It was nice—crisp and refreshing and sweet. “It’s lovely.”
“These little mushroom tart thingies have been calling my name since I opened the box.” Bay grabbed one up and took a bite. “Oh yeah. Flaky and creamy and delicious.”
He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to try one or if those were just for Bay. And actually he really wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. So he smiled. “They smell amazing.”
“Well, help yourself! There’s a bunch of each of the four aps. Hell, who knows, we might wind up spreading the meal out over the next few hours if the kids stay asleep.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you. Thank you very much.” He took one, teeth-sinking in, oh it was earthy and crumbly and salty with a little sprinkle of cheese. Delicious. “Uhn.”
Uh-oh, was that a sex noise?
“See? I told you it was good.” Bay looked smug as he grabbed another one and ate it up.
“Delicious, I mean it.” He looked at the other things and grabbed a little fried risotto ball. Oh, he’d bet when he bit down, he’d find cheese in the center. It actually made him bounce a little bit.
Bay laughed softly. “Someone likes their arancini. Go on, see if this one lives up to your expectations.”
He felt Bay’s eyes on him as he tasted the appetizer.
It was cheesy, creamy, crunchy heaven, and he shivered, it was so tasty.
“Now I have to taste it,” Bay said softly. He leaned in and grabbed one of the balls, popping it into his mouth. “Mmm. Not bad.”
“I think they’re delicious! I can’t wait until the kids are old enough to try different flavors like parmesan. Right now, they all think it tastes like stinky feet smell.”
Bay chuckled. “I like lots of stuff I remember hating as a kid. Do Belle and Eric help at all with making meals?”
“Belle does. Eric’s still in the ‘maybe the stove won’t be hot this time’ phase.”
Bay frowned at him. “What does that mean? He doesn’t think it’ll cook?”
“It means he’s five and testing his boundaries.”
“Ah. How many times has he burned his fingers on the stovetop?”
“Twice, which was two times too many.”
“Well, if he does it once more, then he’s matched his father.” Bay snagged a wingette and munched away on it.
“No!” His eyes went wide. “Not really?”
“Yes, really. Some things Tony needed to have it really beaten in to learn and that the stove really was hot was one of them.”
“Yeah, Eric’s… stubborn, but basically a really good boy.” Basically mostly…
“Tony turned out all right in the end,” Bay noted. “I’m sure Eric will, too. You’re doing a good job with the kids, from what I can see. And possibly that’s damning you with faint praise as we’ve already established that I am not the best with kids.”
“You’re fine. They’re beginning to count on you being here. Even Belle.” He hated how sad she was.
“You think so? I just feel so awkward around them. So… inadequate. I’m not their father, you know? I’m trying, though. To be there for them, I mean, not to replace her father.”
“Neither of us are their parents, but we’re the closest thing they have left, and we’re doing our best.”
Bay nodded, then grabbed what looked like artichokes on little toasts and offered it over. “No more work talk, right? We’re having a relaxing evening.”
“Right. We’re being grown-ups, learning about each other, relaxing together.”
“Having a bit of time off, an evening out of time.” Bay took one of the artichoke toasts for himself, tilting his head as he tasted it.
“Is it yummy?” He grabbed a little slider thing made of barbecued pork.
“Eh. Not my favorite. That one you have looks good, though.”
He handed one over. “They’re spicy and good.”
Bay took a small bite and smiled. “Yeah, this is better.” He gobbled the rest of it up, then licked some stray sauce off his lips.
Oh.
That was… he shouldn’t look at that.
Nope.