4. Lucas
Lucas
4
Ihold back my questions as he hangs up the phone. He doesn’t move right away, spending a long second just standing there. I don’t need to be told anything to know how upset Ezrah is. He shakes his head as if to clear it, then scans something on his phone. He checks over his shoulder to make sure I’m still there and walks silently to his car.
I study him as he starts driving. I don’t ask where we’re going, I just climb in the passenger’s seat, look out the window, and wait for him to be ready, if he even wants to talk.
Objectively speaking, even though I’m his bodyguard, he may not want to tell a stranger about his personal life. If it doesn’t pertain to why I’m here there’s no need.
“I can see you want to ask.”
I jump at the sound of his voice.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I assure him, shaking my head. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
He huffs out a sign and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Well, it's going to affect you soon enough anyway. Jamie is- was my cousin. She wasn’t close with the family. Neither of us were. The two of us used to be close before Allen. Now,” he takes a deep breath as if he’s trying to clear away the weight of emotions. “Now, I’ve got to take good care of her baby girl Delilah, starting by getting everything ready for her.”
I choose my words carefully. “Are you sure it's a good idea to bring a baby to your place? Not that it isn’t a nice place but…”
His knuckles turn whiter against the black wheel. “Let’s just get the stuff. We can talk about this at my place.”
I nod. “Of course. Whatever you need. How old is she?”
“Nine months.”
“Have you met her before?”
He shakes his head. “Last time I saw Jamie was over five years ago.”
Ezrah doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t pry. Still, I hope he’ll see reason and let me take them somewhere safer.
After a long silence, while we sit in traffic and I hold in more questions than I can ask while still staying professional, we make it to the first store, a small place specializing in baby furniture.
“Okay, so what do I need,” Ezrah mumbles to himself, pulling up a list on his phone. “Let’s start with a crib, and changing table, then loop back around for a stroller.”
“She’s already nine months old, you should go for one of those cribs that can turn into a toddler bed.”
He freezes, eyes wide. “Toddlers need special beds?”
“I mean, they’ve got little legs. They need beds they can get in and out of.”
He nods, eyes narrowing. “Of course. Little legs and those need special beds, not like the little steps you can get for dogs I assume?”
That line of questioning is cut off by a pretty young salesman with a bright smile. “Can I help the two of you find anything?” he asks.
“Oh thank god!” Ezrah says. “Yes, I found out roughly twenty minutes ago I am going to be in possession of a baby tomorrow and I need baby things.”
The salesman offers a very patient smile. “Alright, so what do you have so far?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing! I need one of everything. Maybe two of anything you think is really important.”
He grins. “Alright, well why don’t we start with a crib and go from there, yeah?”
“Lead the way.”
I bite back a smile, walking at the back of our strange little group. We must have looked at ten cribs. There is always something missing or something wrong until we find an unreasonably priced purple thing with an attached mobile.
“What do you think?” Ezrah asks me. “It does the converting thingy you wanted. Do you think she’ll like it?”
I give him a reassuring smile. “If you’re happy with it, I’m sure she’ll love it.” I don’t have the heart to tell him she probably won’t be able to tell the difference between any of them.
The process repeats itself with each and every thing we need to buy. Ezrah needs to see all the options they have, he’ll pick a few top choices, all at exorbitant price points then look to me for help. Part of me can’t believe the salesman’s patience. I can only assume he makes a commission. That or he’s a saint. Finally, Ezrah heads over to the counter where another associate waits to check him out
“Adoption or surrogacy?” the salesman asks, leaning against the shelf beside me.
It doesn’t seem appropriate to say too much so I just say, “Adoption.”
“Cute. Did it take long?”
“It, uh, wasn’t exactly a planned thing. It's kind of a long story.”
He nods his head. “I won’t pry. I know it isn’t the most professional thing, but I have to say, the two of you are so cute. How long have you two been together?”
I flush, eyes darting to make sure Ezrah hasn’t heard. “We’re not- I mean. We’re-” We weren’t technically friends. “I work for him.”
“Workplace romance. How cute! And with your boss! Good for you.”
“It's really not like that,” I shake my head.
He just chuckles. “Give it time. It will be. Trust me, I’m good at these things.”
“Ready to go?” Ezrah asks. “I’m going to have the furniture delivered to the house.”
I can only hope he didn’t hear any of that exchange. “Yep! Let’s go.” I all but race out the door.
“One more stop then we can go get some dinner. I was thinking Mexican if that sounds good to you.”
“Whatever you want is fine.” I frown as a sudden thought hits me. “Can you cook?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A genuine one. If you’re going to have a kid, you should think about at least learning the basics.”
He glares. “I don’t recall asking you.”
“Right, sorry,” I turn away.
He’s so quiet, I almost don’t hear the small, “I’ll think about it.”
I smile at the passing city.
If nothing else this store is easier. It’s some kind of high-end boutique specializing in baby clothes and toys. Ezrah picks out at least one of everything. Some things he chose were multiples in different sizes. When we make it to the counter, he frowns.
“Do you deliver? It's just - I don’t think all of this will fit in my car.”
“We can figure something out.”
And so arrangements are made to have someone bring it by in the morning, so he and I can get everything set up before it’s time to pick up Delilah. I try not to worry when I hear him give his address.
“You think I overdid it?” he asks over the plate of shared nachos while we wait for our dinners.
“No,” I smile. “I think you’re excited and want to make her happy. Did you buy more than you needed to? Absolutely, but it's not going to hurt.”
“I just want to make sure she has options.
“She’s nine months old. She’s not going to be full of opinions.”
“All the more reason to make sure I can accommodate where she does.”
“That’s really sweet. You’re going to take good care of her.”
“I hope so.”
“I know it. I’ve seen bad guardians, and you’re not it. You won’t be perfect, but you’re going to do your best and that’s enough. She’s lucky to have you. Trust me.”
He toys with a chip. “I've seen them too. That’s the problem. Most of those people don’t know that they’re damaging their kids.”
“Hey,” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this. All it takes is to make sure you listen to her. I think you can handle that.”
He looks into my eyes and time stops. He opens his mouth, licking his lip. My eyes track the motion.
“We should-”
“One burrito supreme and one mex tex burger!” the server declares.
I jump back to my side of the table as the server creates a barrier of food between us. Whatever Ezrah was about to say dies in the silence.
“So you get to know about me for work. Apparently, they made a whole file on me or whatever, but I don’t know anything about you. That doesn’t seem fair. What do you do when you’re not stuck babysitting me.”
“I don’t mind a little babysitting.”
He snorts.
“But mostly I work, hit the gym, hang out with friends, the usual things.” I shrug, picking up my burger.
Ezrah shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you came to a Mexican restaurant and ordered a burger.”
“Hey, it still counts! They use the same seasoning mix they use for the taco meat, and it's got queso, nacho cheese, and guacamole.”
“Yes, I can see that. It's oozing down your hands.”
“Good catch.” I turn to bring my finger to my lips, sucking off the stray cheese, a small noise of pleasure slipping from me. For a moment, I freeze.
I have to have imagined the way his eyes seem to track the motion, hands locked in a death grip on his poor burrito.
“Is it good?” he asks, face strangely unreadable.
I give a smile, not sure if I’m hoping to dispel or enhance whatever heaviness is hanging in the air. “It's a taco burger slathered in cheese. It's amazing.”
“Right,” he nods his head. “Glad you like it.”
Dinner is a bit quiet after that, with an odd tension permeating the air. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask again if he plans on bringing her to his house with everything going on, but the words die long before they make it to my lips. I just can’t bear to make him unhappy by asking.
When we get outside, he tosses me the keys. “You drive. I need to sit for a minute.”
The next thing I know we’re back in the driveway just as the last rays of sun are fading. Ezrah has sunk back against the seat in exhaustion.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
I must have said something wrong, as his face hardens into a scowl. “I’m fine, let’s just get inside.”
He doesn’t wait to make sure I’m following, just barrels out of the car all but running to the house, only to freeze halfway up the walkway, looking ready to collapse.
I hurry after, reaching out to steady him. I know it must be bad when he doesn’t even pretend not to need it. I realize why when I look at the door.
Just like earlier, there’s a letter taped to it, this one looks even thicker than the last one.
“Why don’t you go wait in the car? Let me have a look first.”
“No,” he shakes his head.
“Please, he could still be nearby. We should go.”
“I need to do this.”
“Why don’t we do it together? We can sit on your sofa, and read it at the same time?”
He nods. “Let’s do that.”
I don’t let go of his arm until we are sitting beside each other, and even then, I can't bring myself to go far.
“Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”