Six #2
Pulling my phone from the pocket of my sweats, I texted Shaw that I was fairly certain the kids were far too invested in their relationship with me and that someone needed to get to Washington and relieve me.
Since he was ahead of me time-wise, being in Chicago, I sipped my coffee, peripherally listened to the kids talk about their father, and waited for Shaw’s response.
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
I turned to Tatum. “Love, you know I don’t live here.”
“You can’t leave me. What if Dad goes again? What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re trying to make me feel guilty,” I accused her.
“Is it working?” The smile I got was huge, all teeth.
“That’s not fair or nice. And someone will be here with you and your family, I promise.”
“What does someone mean?”
She missed nothing.
I opened my mouth to answer.
“Your coffee’s getting cold,” she told me, just as my phone rang.
Seeing it was Shaw, I got up and walked over to the sliding glass door. Amazing to see the rain coming down so hard, creating long rivulets of water. Between that, the steadiness of the storm and the darker-by-the-second sky, it was hard to see five feet out into the yard.
“Hey,” I said to him in greeting.
“No,” he replied.
“You can’t say no. I’m compromised here. You need to send someone to relieve me.”
“How ’bout…no.”
“But—”
“I can try and swing it after Thanksgiving, but not before. You’re insane.”
“Shaw, the kids like me and?—”
“Of course the kids like you. Everybody fuckin’ likes you.”
“That’s not—and normally kids aren’t all that?—”
“Please, for once, try and see what the rest of us see.”
“What are you?—”
“You’re a good man, Nash Miller, one of the best I know. Try and accept that, all right?”
“What does that have to do with?—”
“Maybe have a nice Thanksgiving with the kids.”
“And you’ll get me a replacement right after?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Keep me in the loop.”
“I will. Swear.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a breath, feeling better. “Thank you.”
I thought he’d hang up, but he didn’t. “Bye,” I announced.
“As though you’re doing irreparable harm to them by being there, strong and steady, in their lives. Sounds terrible.”
Shaw was big on having the last word. “If they get any more attached and then I leave? Yeah, it will hurt them. Ask Benji if you don’t believe me.”
“Kids are resilient, you prick.”
“Nice.”
He hung up then.
“Nash?”
I turned to Tatum with her welling eyes, looking so wounded, and said the only thing I could think of. “We have to figure out what else we’re gonna have for Thanksgiving besides turkey. Should we have Griff make mashed potatoes?”
Instant change. Her eyes lit up, the spark back, and after brushing away tears, she wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face to my abdomen. The truth of the matter was, I was probably far more attached than she was. And how did that happen? I didn’t even like kids. Or cats. Ridiculous.
“What’s the matter with her?” Darwin wanted to know, walking over with a toothpick between his teeth and both hands covered with the new silicone oven mitts we bought.
“I’m fine now,” Tatum told him before squinting. “What’re you doing?”
“I want Nash to check if the muffins are done. I can’t tell.”
“Because of how big your muffins are—which is epic, by the way,” I praised him, and saw his immediate grin, “you’re gonna need to use a knife. The toothpick is too short.”
“Oh.” He returned to the kitchen and placed the muffins on a cooling rack—another new purchase—before carefully inserting a butter knife into a couple of them.
Griff, meanwhile, expertly stepped back as the flames in the pan shot up high, as though he were a waiter in a five-star restaurant and was getting his flambé on.
“What are you doing?” his father yelled, running into the kitchen. “Are you trying to get yourself?—”
“Stay back!” Griff roared at the precise moment the flames disappeared. “For crissakes, Dad, pieces of pork belly do that sometimes because of the fat, and there’s been bacon in here as well. I’m not an idiot.”
Luke stood there dumbfounded, and Griff stepped sideways and gestured for me. I moved over to him quickly, inspected the pan, saw that it appeared fine, under control, and then leaned against the counter, crossing my arms.
“Well, crap,” he muttered after a moment, and I smiled.
“What’d you do wrong?”
Griff let his head fall back on his shoulders as he stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t take the breath.”
“And?”
“I raised my voice.”
“Which sucks because?”
“Now I go back to zero on the board.”
“Yep,” I told him, “and you know what that means.”
“Yeah. Splurge day will be pizza or burgers.”
Tatum clapped as Darwin gave a whoop of joy that startled his father.
“What the hell is?—”
“Correct,” I said loudly. “And I was lookin’ forward to having Mexican like you wanted.”
He groaned.
“And why did all that happen?” I pressed.
He gestured at his father. “Because I got mad at him.”
“Why?”
“Because he hasn’t been here, so he doesn’t know that I’ve got this.”
“As well as…?”
He thought a moment. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t put myself in his place.”
“That’s right. So have a do-over.”
Exhaling deeply, he faced his father. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I should’ve taken a moment and thought how freaked out you probably were to see what you thought was fire. But in my defense, you?—”
I coughed. Loudly.
“Never mind. No matter what you did, it doesn’t justify me yelling at you.”
Luke Duchesne looked like a deer caught in headlights, glancing at me, then at Tatum, who was nodding, then at Darwin, who was busy with his muffins, and finally back to his oldest.
“Good job,” I praised Griff before turning to Luke. “Something to say to your son?”
He appeared confused.
I squinted at him.
Luke took a quick breath and addressed Griff. “I didn’t realize you started cooking while I was gone, so I apologize for losing my mind a second ago.”
“Okay,” Griff said, then focused on me. “Can I finish now?”
“I dunno, can you?”
He groaned like he was going to die. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Well, then maybe pick the correct word,” I said with a shrug, leaving him to retake my seat at the table.
“ May I finish now?”
“Yes, you may,” I said snidely. “Tatum, please bring your dad some coffee.”
She looked at her father. “Do you want coffee?”
“I would love some, thank you.”
“Sit down in your place, and I’ll bring it.”
He moved to the head of the table near me, and suddenly I had all his attention. “He cooks?”
I nodded.
“Here, is it fine?” Darwin asked, bringing the clean knife over for me to inspect.
“It is. Good job. Now you gotta get ’em outta there because the pan’s still hot and they’ll keep cooking, and you don’t want the bottoms to burn.”
“Got it,” he said, leaving us.
“Darwin bakes?”
“He’s tryin’ it out to see if he likes it. Baking is a more scientific endeavor, which appeals to his logical mind.”
His eyes did not leave my face.
“You have questions, I have answers,” I said, while wondering why their father wasn’t being hugged. No one had embraced him in greeting, and worse, in my opinion, he didn’t seem to be missing the affection. What the hell was happening?
“A fixer? What even is that?”
Lost in thought, I didn’t answer him.
“Nash?”
“Sorry, I protect and solve problems,” I stated, glancing around at all of them. They were all busy, not one of them gazing at their father with longing. Had they missed him at all? “I have been with your kids since Sunday of last week, so nine days counting today.”
He was quiet a moment, and then his eyes got big like his daughter’s did when she had an epiphany, and because he reminded me of her, I sighed.
“You weren’t a school counselor calling about Griff.”
“No, sir. Fixer. And that Sunday turned out to be quite eventful.”
“That’s why the six or seven calls.”
“Yes.”
He took a deep, shaky breath.
“I’m sorry the house was locked when you arrived, but there are new keys, and your set is on the hooks over there,” I said, pointing to the new area we’d made right under the glass cabinets with the house phone.
“The code is different now too, and both those security measures were taken because no one could tell me precisely who had keys to the house and who knew the alarm code. Without knowing specifics, I had no choice but to have a redo.”
He nodded solemnly.
“So I’ll give you everything.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “I tried to get in through the garage, but there’s a deadbolt on the door into the house now.”
“Yes. Safety protocol.”
“What’s the alarm code?” When I gave it to him, he smiled. “Like the town in Jaws ?”
“Finally,” I announced to the room, and the kids laughed.
“I love that movie,” he said, his eyes back on me. “But the dog dies at the beach, and that would upset Tatum.”
“Yes, it would,” I agreed, grinning at him as Tatum put a mug of coffee in front of him, along with a spoon and a napkin.
“Pass him over the half-and-half, Nash,” she directed me. “He likes that.”
I did as I was told as Darwin set a muffin on a dessert plate in front of his father and then one for me. Both had butter on them already.
“I like more than this,” I griped at him.
“Yes, but I looked it up, and a man your age should not have a lot of foods high in saturated fat.”
When I glanced at Griff, he had his lips pressed tight together and was staring at something on the ceiling. Tatum smiled and waved.
“Is that right?” I said, refocusing on Darwin.
“Yeah,” he assured me.
My eyes flicked to Luke. “I hate this kid.”
His smile was warm. “Yes. I can tell.”
After I took a bite of the muffin, I commended Darwin and then asked Griff if the eggs would take an ice age before I had any.
“Because trying to rush me is gonna work,” he grumbled.
I went back to sipping my coffee.
“I would love to hear what happened with Griff.”
Moving to get up, I said, “I have a folder with everything you need to?—”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t want it right now. If you can just hit the high points for me.”