Chapter 13
Shayla and I tiptoe around each other all morning as we eat our room service breakfast, then get Lainey, Grayson, and ourselves ready for Dad’s funeral. She’s a somber vision in a knee-length pleated black skirt with a black button-up blouse tucked into the high waist. I’m dressed in a similar black long-sleeve button-down and pressed black trousers she picked out for me.
I revel in her soft touch when she points to a kitchen table chair for me to take a seat on and then proceeds to comb out and slick back my hair so it looks tidy for once. I want to take her by the hand and pull her around the chair onto my lap when her fingertips skim along the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to rise along my arms. My hand twitches half a second from doing just that when she clears her throat and walks away.
I keep trying to make eye contact with her, but she’s not having it. I want to take her chin in my hand and beg her to look at me. I want to tell her that sleeping next to her all night was one of the best nights of my life. I’ve never slept next to a woman before, and the fact that my first time was with her makes the experience all that much more special.
I want to tell her that I want her in my bed every night for the rest of our lives, even if she never wants to be intimate in a sexual way with me again, as difficult as that would be. I would be content with simply holding her all night long, just as I did last night with my palm spread wide over her torso and my face buried in her pale, silky hair.
But I won’t tell her. Not yet, at least. Not when she’s so skittish, and I’m scared my intensity and obsessive need for her will make her bolt.
The only upside to all of this is that it’s kept my mind distracted from thinking about how much I regret the strained relationship I had with Dad, one I’ll never be able to fix.
When we get to my parents’ church, we pile out of the minivan I rented this morning. Shayla carries Lainey, dressed in a dark purple and white argyle sweater dress on her hip, while I carry the diaper bag and Grayson in his matching argyle sweater and black pants as we quietly walk up the front steps and into the building. Mom is standing up front with Dad’s sister, my Aunt Carol, greeting everyone as they arrive. She has her glasses resting on top of her head as she dabs at tears in her eyes with a tissue, and the anger I’ve held onto toward her fades marginally.
I bend to hug her and kiss her cheek, and for a few seconds, she leans into me. My heart softens more toward her, but then she straightens, scowls at Shayla, and turns her back to greet the next person.
Just like that, my heart hardens again.
I love my mom because she’s my mom, but the protective feelings I have toward Shayla and Lainey flare to life. If we weren’t in a church, and if this weren’t Dad’s funeral, I’d pull her aside to confront her about how she’s treating my angels.
Aunt Carol, who reminds me so much of Dad with her straight, graying eyebrows and long nose with a slight hook in it, flashes us a brief, sympathetic smile. I hug her, too, our embrace much warmer, before stepping into the sanctuary.
Shayla follows me down the side aisle on the right and takes the seat next to me after I slide in next to my brothers and sister on the first pew. For the next twenty minutes, low murmurs fill the room, and multiple extended family members and Dad’s friends stop by to offer their condolences. Nearly all of them take note of Shayla sitting close by my side with our babies on our laps, and a few even ask who she is, but she merely introduces herself by her name and doesn’t expand on who she is to me.
And just who is she to me?I don’t know exactly. She’s certainly not just my neighbor and Grayson’s babysitter. Not anymore. But she’s also not my girlfriend, as she introduced herself yesterday.
The church quietens when Mom and Aunt Carol walk down the middle aisle to join the rest of us. My siblings have left an open space at the front of the pew for them, and just as they are about to sit, Mom does a double-take when she sees us and stiffens. We might not be touching, but I swear I can feel it when Shayla freezes as Mom hurries toward us in her black pantsuit buttoned up to her neck and houndstooth jacket.
Shayla shrinks back when Mom’s lips curl downward. “What is she doing here? This pew is for family only.” Several people nearby who haven’t taken their seats yet turn their heads toward us when they hear her sharp tone.
The words spill out before I can think them through. “She is family.” I palm Shayla’s left knee where her skirt has ridden up, my fingers tingling at the contact with her warm skin. What I said might be a lie, but it doesn’t feel like a lie. God, how I wish it weren’t a lie.
I silently beg Shayla to play along, and I subtly exhale when she scoots closer to me so that we’re sitting with our thighs pressed together. She even places her hand on top of mine, and when I flip my hand palm up, she slips her fingers between mine. My heart thumps hard, and I squeeze her hand twice.
Mom is getting ready to say something else, but the pastor interrupts, asking everyone to take their seats. She pinches her lips together and stalks back to the front of the pew, silently seething. Any lingering goodwill I still felt toward her is gone.
Shayla leans in and whispers under her breath, “I’m sorry. I should probably move if it’s going to upset your family.”
I turn my head, and my cheek rubs against hers. “Please don’t. I want you to stay.” She nods, further brushing our cheeks together, and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of having her so close. “Thank you.” I dare to shift a little more and press a kiss to her temple. She sucks in a quick breath but doesn’t object or pull away. So I kiss her again, then turn to listen to the pastor give his funeral sermon.
Hearing Dad’s friends speak about him, sharing stories I’ve never heard, causes my chest to tighten. They share a side of Dad that I’d never known. I wish we’d had the kind of relationship where he shared those stories with me himself, but I’m grateful I get to hear them now. Tears pool at the corners of my eyes as they go on to talk about what a good man and good friend he was and how much they’ll miss him.
I let go of Shayla’s hand so I can wipe my tears away. I hang my head and close my eyes as I continue to listen. That’s when I feel Shayla’s hand coasting along my back, rubbing slow circles, and Lainey’s tiny hand on my cheek. I straighten to look at her, and when she reaches for me with her short, chubby arms, I transfer Grayson to Shayla and pull Lainey to stand on my lap. I have to pinch my eyes shut and hold back the sob that threatens to work its way loose when Lainey hugs my neck. She’s only ten months old, yet she shows me so much more love and kindness in two minutes than my own family has since we arrived in Virginia.
She gets it from her mother.
I pull her closer, inhaling the scent of her baby shampoo when I press a kiss to the side of her baby-fine blonde hair. When I sneak a look at Shayla, she’s watching us with a sweet smile on her face and something akin to adoration swirling in her gorgeous eyes.
My sweet angels. My angel and my Angelainey.
I hold Lainey on my lap for the rest of the service while Shayla rocks Grayson when he fusses. When he refuses his bottle, she excuses herself quietly to find a private area to nurse him. When she returns, she sits even closer to me and holds my hand in her lap, squeezing it when I sniffle.
Shayla and I sit with Aunt Carol on the ivory floral couch in the corner of Mom’s formal living room after the funeral service. Aunt Carol coos at Grayson, trying to coax another smile out of him, which he obliges, much to her delight.
Lainey pulls herself up to stand on unsteady legs at the gaudy coffee table. She squeals happily when we clap, then again when she loses her balance and falls on her butt. The sound fills my heart with joy on such a mournful day. When she crawls to the diaper bag at our feet and starts digging out her building blocks, I slide down to the floor next to her and lean back against the couch. Lainey hands me block after block to stack, then giggles when she knocks it over onto my lap.
“So, tell me, how have things been going with Grayson?” Aunt Carol asks me between rounds of peek-a-boo with her great-nephew. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy after Lauren passed.” Before I can respond, she lowers her voice and leans forward to squeeze my shoulder. “Speaking of, I’m so sorry about your sister. I wish I could have attended her service so you’d have some family to lean on. Lauren was a beautiful soul, and though I didn’t get to see her often these last few years, I miss her all the same.”
Aunt Carol was the only family member I invited to the service since I knew Lauren wouldn’t have wanted anyone else from our family to come, and I know she feels guilty for missing it. But, with her health issues, she needed to stay close to home and was unable to fly to New Mexico, where Lauren had settled after college.
I swallow back the lump in my throat, thinking about my sister. Aunt Carol is the first person to bring her up, other than when Mom made that callous crack about Grayson being as difficult as Lauren was. I’m grateful that somebody around here cares enough to ask.
“Thank you, Aunt Carol,” I say as I pat her hand on my shoulder. “I miss her too. And it’s been rough, to say the least. But Shayla has been a huge help.”
“Oh? And how did you two meet?”
I twist to the side to face her and Shayla as I start on the next tower for Lainey. “She’s my neighbor from across the street and offered to help. I didn’t know a thing about taking care of an infant, and she walked me through all of it. She’s the only reason Grayson sleeps through the night now, thankfully. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aunt Carol says with a smile. Then she quirks a brow up and eyes us back and forth. “You two get to spend a lot of time together, then?”
“As much time as possible.” My attention drifts to Shayla, who blushes so prettily and ducks her head. I smooth my hand along the back of her calf, and she shifts her leg imperceptibly closer to me. I’ve found all kinds of little ways to touch her today, thrilled every time she leans in instead of away.
Lainey babbles and waves a block in my face to get my attention after knocking down the latest tower. She squeals when I pull her into my arms and blow a raspberry against her cheek. We’re just about to start on another tower when Mom approaches and hisses, “Keep that girl quiet. This is not a playground.”
I’d maybe see her point if my brothers and uncles weren’t currently in the den watching football, cheering and slapping each other on the back every time their team scores a point.
When Mom snatches Lainey’s block out of her hand, making her cry, it’s the final straw for me. The final straw with this whole damn family, save for Aunt Carol.
I stand, tucking Lainey against my chest as she cries into my shoulder. “You know what, Mom? I’ll do you one better. We’re leaving.” I motion to Shayla, who is already on her feet, gathering up the rest of Lainey’s blocks and shouldering the diaper bag. Aunt Carol kisses Grayson’s cheek and hands him to Shayla.
Mom has the gall to look wounded after being so nasty toward us. “What? Absolutely not.” She shakes her finger at Shayla. “They have no business here, but you’re not going anywhere.”
I pin her with a glare. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”
“What do you mean, ‘Why’? This is your father’s funeral. He’d be heartbroken by the way you’re treating me!” she practically shouts, drawing the attention of the rest of the family and Dad’s friends.
“No, I don’t think so. I think he’d be upset with the way you are treating us, and you know it.”
Mom falters, taking a step back as if I’ve shoved her, and places a hand over her heart. “Excuse me? How can you say that?”
“It’s been over three months since Lauren’s funeral and Grayson came to live with me. When was the last time you called to ask about him? You know, your only grandchild who lost his mother—your daughter.”
“I’ve called—”
“No, you haven’t. I called every week until I realized you weren’t interested in talking about Lauren or Grayson at all. Half the time, you were trying to get me off the phone as quickly as possible before passing it to Dad.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes. It. Is. And now that we’re here, you’ve held Grayson exactly once and still haven’t bothered to ask anything about him. Everyone else has followed your example, too, except for Aunt Carol. I’ve tried giving you grace out of respect for Dad and what he would have wanted, but I’m done. He never would have tolerated the way you’ve treated us, especially Shayla and Lainey, and I’m not going to tolerate it either.”
I reach behind me for Shayla’s hand, and she slips her fingers between mine, pressing herself close to my back. I should’ve done this the very first moment Mom got ugly with her. I pull Shayla to my front and guide her to the front door so that I’m between her and Mom.
Mom bustles out after us, ranting about what a terrible son I am. I usher Shayla to the van while I turn to speak to my mother for what could very well be the last time.
“I love you, Mom. I’ll always love you. But until you figure out how to be a halfway-decent parent and grandparent and start acting like you care about us, this is the last time you’ll be seeing or hearing from me.”
Aunt Carol pokes her head around Mom’s shoulder, and though she’s clearly upset, she gives me a small smile.
“Aunt Carol, it was lovely seeing you. Thank you for taking the time to get to know Grayson. I know Dad would have appreciated that.”
“Don’t be a stranger, James. I’d love to have the four of you come to visit sometime.”
“We’d be happy to,” I say, accepting the invitation on Shayla’s behalf, as well, in the hopes it’ll come true.
Mom stomps away, and though I hope she’ll take what I said to heart, I doubt it. This may be Dad’s funeral, but it may as well be two.
Back at the hotel, I’m still upset by the confrontation with my mother. I try my best not to let it show while we have dinner and get Lainey and Grayson ready for bed, but it leaks out regardless. Shayla can tell, but she keeps her voice cheery and makes up for what I’m lacking, keeping our babies happy and smiling until they’re down for the night.
After showering, I take my pillows and blanket from last night and shake them out on the couch. Other than game nights, I rarely drink, but I’m making an exception tonight by grabbing a few of the complimentary mini bottles from the fridge in the kitchenette. I twist the cap off the first bottle, down it in one shot, and immediately regret my choice of cinnamon whiskey.
Dad would have hated it, too. That thought actually has me cracking a smile, though it fades just as quickly as it came on.
I wallow in my thoughts as I lay down, abandoning the rest of the mini bottles. I’m already regretting coming out here instead of climbing into bed with Shayla when this is probably my last chance to sleep next to her, but I don’t want to bother her anymore with my miserable mood.
I just can’t help worrying about what Shayla must think of me now that she’s met my family. I may not know her family very well, but from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot more smiling, laughing, and affection in one afternoon spent sitting out on the lawn together than there is in six months with my family.
I crack an eye and turn at the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. I slowly sit up when Shayla shuffles over and stops right in front of me. She’s wearing a fresh oversized T-shirt, and when I look closely, I see it’s another one of mine from my suitcase. That elicits another quick smile, and a flare of possession wells up inside me.
My angelwearing my clothes to bed.
Neither of us speaks, and I wait for some kind of signal as to what I should do. Her eyes drift to my two pillows stacked at the end of the couch. My mouth runs dry, and I swallow when she reaches for the pillows. She holds out her free hand, and when I take it, she tugs me up to stand and follow her as she leads me into the bedroom.
She places my pillows at the head of the bed, pulls back the covers, and motions for me to get in. I lay down and watch as she walks around the bed and climbs in on her side. I don’t second-guess anything now. I roll to the middle and spoon her just as I did the night before, tucking her under my arm and close to my chest. My mood lifts being so close to her, and I fall asleep listening to her soft exhalations.