8. I Used to be Charming
I Used to be Charming
SAM
My palms were sweaty as I climbed the front steps to Ellie’s townhouse Monday afternoon. When I reached her stoop, I held my breath for a moment, puffing out my cheeks. Then I let it go. My heart was going like a jackhammer.
I was nervous as hell.
Okay. I could do this. I reached a hand up to the doorbell, then hesitated when I saw my reflection in the frosted glass of the front door.
I’d had to go into the office today, and hadn’t wanted to show up here in the branded AutoScore button-down they liked us to wear, whether we were client-facing or not.
I’d had to run home and do a quick change with whatever I could find from the clean laundry basket.
I’d picked jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and my lucky Chucks.
But maybe I should have worn something different. I didn’t look like a dad. Shit. Should I have worn a cardigan? Maybe some jorts? I didn’t own a single pair of New Balance running shoes.
This wasn’t helping. I gave my head a shake. Then I did a few flexes and deep breathing, curling my fists in front of me, down low.
“You got this, bro!” I whispered. Brett did sales at work, and whispered that to himself before every cold call. Stupid, but he said it so earnestly it somehow worked.
At the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk, I quickly backed up, leaning against the railing. I don’t know why—it was weird to be loitering on Ellie’s stoop.
It was Conrad and Archie. Shit.
“Hey,” I said casually, as they came up their steps.
I’d talked a bit with Conrad on Saturday about the Search and Rescue center and how I might be interested in helping in some way again.
I didn’t think I could responsibly sign up to do what I used to, but maybe I could help with their website.
It was a travesty out of the 1990s. He’d said he’d hook me up with the person running it now, who I didn’t know anymore.
Then the three of us bonded over baseball.
I still didn’t know them well enough to not feel ridiculous right now, though.
“Hi, Sam!” said Archie, giving me a big grin.
That helped. I relaxed, at least a little. “Hey, man.”
“Whatcha doing?” Archie asked as Conrad set the grocery bags he’d been holding on the stoop to fish in his pocket, presumably for keys.
“Just dropping by for a visit with my… with Ellie. And Henry.” What did I call her? Also, was it weird to leave out Tommy? Not that Ellie’s older kid wanted much to do with me.
“Cool,” Archie said, hanging on his railing. “But why were you doing wrestling moves?”
Conrad let out a cough I could tell was hiding a laugh.
Shit. “You guys saw that, huh?”
“Not just us.” Conrad glanced up to the second floor of the townhouse in between his and Ellie’s. A woman who looked to be my mom’s age, with short, mostly gray hair frowned down at me from the second floor balcony.
I startled. “Oh, uh… hi,” I said, holding up my hand.
“Hello,” she said cautiously, though she didn’t return my wave.
“Hi, Mrs. Oxford!” Archie called.
“Hello, dear. How was school?”
“Good! Dad got off early so he picked me up.” Then he pointed at me. “This is Sam, Henry’s dad!”
Shit. Did she know that?
“Arch,” Conrad admonished. “That’s Sam’s news to tell.”
“Oh,” Archie said. “Sorry, Sam.”
“No, that’s cool,” I said, not wanting Archie to feel bad. “I mean, it’s true, so…”
“What exactly are you doing down there, young man?” Mrs. Oxford asked me, apparently nonplussed by that revelation. Maybe she already knew about me.
“Just visiting,” I croaked.
“So what was with the iron-pumping?”
Conrad turned a kind of pink shade, his lips twisting. He was definitely trying not to laugh now.
“I…” I couldn’t exactly explain that.
“Mrs. Oxford is Henry’s babysitter,” Archie explained helpfully.
“And where’s Ellie?” the woman asked.
“Right here.”
The familiar feminine voice made me groan audibly. I might as well toss myself off the stoop right now. It was tempting. Instead, I dropped my gaze down to see Ellie standing in her open doorway.
The sight of her sent a little tornado of nerves through my guts, just like I knew it would.
She was wearing navy shorts and a cream-colored tank top.
Both clung distractingly to her every curve.
Her curls were damp, like she’d just stepped out of the shower.
Luckily, Henry was sitting on her hip. The sight of him was enough to distract me momentarily from the way I always seemed to react around his mom.
“How long have you guys been standing there?” I asked.
“I just opened the door,” Ellie said.
I would have been reassured, except her eyes darted up to a small glass dome under the peak of her stoop’s overhang. A camera. Of fucking course.
I closed my eyes. “But you saw the whole thing.”
“Heard it too.”
There was laughter in her voice. But it didn’t feel mean. That was something. “Come on,” she said, taking pity on me. “See you guys,” she said to the crowd outside. Then she stepped aside, holding the door for me.
Ellie’s eyes were still alight with laughter as I passed, which made my embarrassment worth it. “So, the living areas are all upstairs, and the bedrooms are down here. The kids’ are on the left, mine’s on the right.”
For some reason, hearing Ellie reference her bedroom had a heat crawling up my chest. Her eyes flipped to mine, as if she could sense it.
I’d reacquainted myself the other day with how pretty her eyes were. Big and brown, with thick dark lashes that fanned over her cheeks as she blinked. They narrowed as she inspected me.
I looked over at Henry so I’d stop staring. He had his fist in his mouth. Was that normal? He was making pretty cute sounds, so I assumed it was.
“Hey, dude,” I said to him.
Ellie pinched her lips between her teeth. I think she was trying not to laugh.
“Sorry. I don’t really know how to talk to babies. My sister does this goo-goo ga-ga stuff, but that just feels weird. Is it weird?”
“There’s a chance you might be overthinking this,” Ellie said gently.
“I do that sometimes,” I confessed.
She smiled, something flashing in her expression. Did she do that too? I wanted to ask her. I wanted, actually, to shake off the awkwardness that hung on us like a wet blanket. But I just couldn’t relax. I wanted this to go well, and if I relaxed, I’d fuck it up again.
“I think you’re doing it again,” she said softly.
“Fuck. I mean, shit. I mean—” I groaned.
This time she did laugh. “Sam. It’s okay.”
My shoulders loosened. She was being so nice. She didn’t have to be. Also, I loved the way she said my name. I wanted her to say it again.
“Should we go upstairs?” Ellie asked. “We have a little play area Henry likes. If you want to hang out in there with him I’ll be close by in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” I said. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
She turned and began climbing up the stairs.
I let out a breath. This was going okay, despite the way I kept fucking it up.
Still, sweat beaded my forehead. What did I do once she left us?
I didn’t know what to do with a baby. I’d done an internet search last night but got immediately overwhelmed.
How would I know if he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do?
Like eating his fist? Even though apparently that was okay.
I wanted to keep him safe. I wanted Henry to like me.
I didn’t want Ellie to think having me here was a mistake.
I was doing it again. I ran my palm over my forehead as I followed her up the stairs, trying to calm my runaway brain.
I gripped the railing with my other hand. I didn’t need to anymore—my hip didn’t cause me extreme pain like it used to, and in fact stairs were good for me. But the way things were going I wouldn’t be surprised if today was the day it gave out on me.
But looking down had me noticing Ellie’s pretty bare feet; her pointed ankles under shapely calves, then the soft hollows behind her knees.
My eyes drifted up to her gorgeous, thick thighs; thighs I distinctly remember wrapping my arms around, my hands kneading, as I buried my face between them, feeling like I’d ascended to heaven.
Henry babbled loudly, startling me. He was staring at me over his mom’s shoulder, his little brow furrowed. His fist was out of his mouth now, his fingers splayed, like he was going to point his fingers in a V from his eyes to mine.
Ellie turned, catching me staring. At least it was at Henry.
I smiled quickly. “Uh… how’s he doing today, by the way? Anything I should know?”
She looked down at the baby. “I’m not actually sure. Tommy and I just got home a few minutes ago. He pooped earlier, apparently.”
“That’s good.”
Talking about poop like the weather was bizarre to me.
But the fact that he’d gone was good intel, because I had no idea what to do if he did, and it seemed like a shit thing to do—so to speak—to pass that over to her when I was supposed to be taking things off her hands.
I made a mental note to look up ‘How to deal with baby poop’ and ‘Diapers 101’ before next time.
If there was a next time. There had to be, right?
“He seems to be in a good mood, though,” Ellie continued. “He had a solid nap today.”
I nodded. “I love naps.”
At one time, I was considered a charming person. I was confident and could carry on a conversation with just about anyone. Oh how I wished even a fraction of that person was still firing around inside of me. Just a single cylinder would be nice. I love naps. Jesus.
Ellie was quiet a minute, then her eyes did that little dancing thing, her lips twisting slightly, like she was trying not to laugh again. Was I making her happy?
Finally, she said, “Yeah, actually. Naps are great.”
So maybe she didn’t think I was a complete idiot.
Except for that show downstairs.
“So, does your babysitter always hang out on the balcony like that?” I asked as I followed her down the hallway.