Chapter 5
Brothers and the Games They Play…
Ben
So, it turns out Henry was fine. In fact, he absolutely loved school, made a few friends, and is giddy with excitement about going back tomorrow.
He also begged me to let him go over to Jax’s for a playdate.
Apparently, Lacey suggested it at pick-up time and Dominic told him all about the pool and the death trap.
I didn’t come right out and say no, but I definitely didn’t say yes either, so now I’m faced with yet another parenting dilemma. They seem to pop up every few hours.
On the plus side, Henry had a great day, which is all I really wanted.
So, I guess glancing at my phone every five seconds instead of installing the custom kitchen cabinets at the reno I’m working on may not have been necessary after all.
I’d never admit this, but the fact that he managed so well is a bit of a blow to the ego.
Not that I would ever want him to be lonely or upset, but it would’ve been nice if he could’ve at least pretended to miss his old man.
Hmmm… Maybe Dom was right about the therapy thing.
Anyway, he video-called me as soon as he picked up Henry from school so I could talk to him and see his little happy face.
Then he whisked him off for celebratory ice cream and I got busy, trying to make up for the time I lost. It’s now late evening and it’s been a full evening of listening to my little guy chatter away about his exciting day while I made his favorite supper (chicken nuggets, fries, and cut-up veggies to dip in hummus, which he didn’t eat on account of the ice cream).
He talked all the way through bath time and story time and he’s now tucked into bed, probably dreaming about going off to college tomorrow, where he’ll only remember to call me every other Sunday. (Oh wow, I do have a problem.)
I’m now at my desk finalizing plans for one of my ‘side gig’ projects—a kid-sized pirate ship.
I’ve got my construction company that brings in a steady income doing home and commercial renos (my biggest job to date was a complete renovation of The Turtle’s Head Pub last year), but my passion is building the world’s greatest playhouses.
It started back when Henry was two, and I decided he needed a colorful, whimsical Disney-style clubhouse, complete with a loft.
Dom decorated it with bean bag chairs, old-timey milk crates that serve as side tables, and a kitchen table and chairs painted bright yellow, green, and blue.
It’s got little twinkly lights and shutters on the windows and a blue door that looks like something out of a fairy village.
It was worth every second of effort I put into it because Henry loves it.
Oh my God, one day he’ll be too tall to stand up in it and he’ll never go in it again.
Why is my nose tingling? Parenting is a total gut-punch.
Anyway, my clients are mainly friends, or friends of friends who see pictures of Henry’s clubhouse and ask me to build something similar.
If I could make enough doing this, I’d happily close my company and only build playhouses.
Kids are much better clients than grown-ups.
They’re enthusiastic, grateful, and they don’t change their minds a hundred times.
Obviously, their parents pay the bill (and some of them do tend to get hung up on little details), but honestly, the look on a child’s face when they get to step inside for the first time?
Magic. And how often do adults get to do anything magic?
Almost never. Well, other than magicians, I suppose.
The pirate ship is for the son of two lawyers, and they want it as big as I can make it without having to apply for zoning permits.
It’s going to be extraordinary (If I do say so myself), with ornately carved details, wood cannons, a sail made from rope for climbing, two slides, one bedroom with a captain’s bed, and a playroom with a play kitchen.
They want it finished in time for little Nolan’s third birthday, which is in four months, so I’m under a pretty tight deadline.
It’ll mean long nights and working on the weekends too, but I can do almost all the building here in my shop at the house, and the money I’ll make (and it’ll be a lot of money) will go straight to Henry’s college fund.
I yawn and stretch, the muscles in my neck sore from a long day.
Sitting back in my chair, I listen to the sound of the waves rolling in through the open patio door and feel myself grow immediately sleepy.
“Nope. Don’t close your eyes. Not yet,” I mutter, sitting forward again.
I’m sending the revised plans to the clients before I go to sleep.
The front door opens and I hear Dominic come in. He’s humming ‘Summer Lovin’’ which means it was Grease night at the resort. He stops when he sees me at the kitchen table. “You’re up late.”
“Pirate ship. You’re home late.”
Grabbing a protein shake out of the fridge, Dom sits down across from me. “I got caught up chatting with my future wife.”
Without taking my eyes off the screen, I say, “Oh yeah? What’s his name?”
“Vivian Whitlock.”
I hit the save button on what I hope is the final version of the ship. “Seems a bit dull for a drag name.”
“It’s her real name. Vivian is a woman.”
I open my email so I can send the final drawing to my client, then rub my eyes with both hands. “Okay, I’m going to play along. I’m too tired to try to figure out what’s actually going on.”
He gives me a deadpan look. “I’m telling you what’s going on.”
“Okay, dude, fine. You’re getting married to a woman. I suppose she’ll want to move in with us?”
“Yes, it really would be best if she could move in, but only until the wedding. Then she’s going back home, and I’ll join her as soon as I get my green card.” He has a sip of his drink, then adds, “She’s from New York.”
“Well, sure she is,” I answer in the same voice I use when Henry and I are playing pretend. “When’s the wedding?”
“Six weeks, give or take,” Dominic answers, tilting his head. “I need to talk to the event coordinator at the resort to finalize the date.”
“In that case, I better get my suit cleaned,” I tell him, sending the email.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. She’s a big-time lifestyle influencer so the whole thing will be on her channel. Her sponsors will provide us all with tuxes, even Henry.” Dominic smiles. “Oh my God, he’s going to be to die for in a little suit.”
“Oh yeah, he’ll be the star of the show.” Shutting my laptop, I stand up and push my chair in.
Dom narrows his eyes and studies me for a second. “So, you’re actually okay with Vivian moving in for a while? I mean, I know she’s a total stranger, but she’s very sweet, and she’s kind of desperate.”
Wow, he is taking this whole thing way too far. I curve my lips down and scrunch up my eyes. “Of course she can move in. Why would that bother me?”
“Well, you’re a little on the overprotective side when it comes to your son.”
I stare at him for a second, totally confused. “Is this about the school drop-off thing this morning?”
Dom now looks as confused as I feel. “Why would it be about that?”
“I don’t know. It seems like maybe you’re trying to teach me a lesson about being too protective or something.
Although, honestly, I’m having trouble connecting the dots here.
I’m pretty wiped and I have to be up super early to make Henry’s breakfast and pack his lunch and get him off to school, so if you could just tell me what you’re trying to say, that would be terrific. ”
“I’m trying to tell you that I met a woman from New York tonight who I’m going to marry. It’s not a romantic thing. It’s a marriage of convenience.”
“Sure, sure, totally. But how exactly is it convenient for you to move to New York?”
“Because … Broadway,” he says, stretching his arms out like he’s doing a jumping jack while giving me a stage-grin.
Oh Jesus, he’s clearly still trying to screw with me. “Okay, awesome. You do you. I’ve got to go to bed.” I give him two thumbs up, then turn toward the hallway, calling over my shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”
“So it’s okay if she moves in tomorrow night? Because she has to check out of her hotel room.”
“Absolutely!”
“Really?”
Oh, for God’s sake. Enough already. “Can’t wait to meet the little lady!”
“Okay,” he calls. “Thanks, man. I didn’t think you’d be so cool about this.”
“I’m nothing if not cool,” I call back. Making my way to my room, I mutter, “Yup, I’m a super cool guy.
Look at me not letting my brother get a rise out of me.
” I turn on my bedroom light, then walk to the en suite to have a shower.
When I see my reflection in the mirror, I say, “I’m totally chill. ”
Actually, I’m too tired to care about whatever game we were just playing. I need to go to bed so I can wake up and do it all over again. But only for the next thirteen or so years. Then I can rest.