Chapter 11 #2
But as they switch roles and James takes over feeding Cindy Lou her pureed baby food, he coos at the blonde little thing whose hair sticks straight up no matter what they do.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute, isn’t it?
Isn’t it? Or Daddy’d have to put you in the back yard so he could get some shut eye.
” His threat is delivered with the sweetest smile in high-pitched baby-talk, so I’m pretty sure he’s kidding.
“She’ll sleep eventually,” Mama Louise predicts. “Nobody goes through life on a few hours here and a few hours there.”
Sophie mutters, “I am.”
I can see the tiredness settled on her shoulders and the faint blue tint under her eyes. But even so, she laughs at her own joke, her smile genuine.
James puts his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and pulls her in to lay a sweet kiss to her forehead.
She closes her eyes, melting into him for the quick moment.
When she opens them again, his eyes lock on her though he talks to his mother.
“Mama, you think you might be up for babysitting tonight? Or tomorrow? Or anytime soon?”
Katelyn answers first. “We can! We’d be happy to have her over tonight and get those baby snuggles.
” Her husband, Mark, seems to have a different definition of ‘happy’ because there’s a rumbling in his chest that sounds like an actual growl.
But Katelyn bats her eyes at him and he quiets. She’s a full-on magician, I think.
I grew up with Brody and am therefore inordinately used to grunts and glares as a form of top-notch communication, but Mark Bennett is a whole ‘nother level of Neanderthal. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that Katelyn has a tattoo somewhere that says Property of Mark Bennett—Touch & Die.
Not that I’d ever gamble after Dad’s shitstorm with that particular vice. Or see Katelyn naked to know what marks she might have. But Mark, for all his gruffness, is transformed by the slightest look or softest touch from Katelyn.
Katelyn blows Cindy Lou a kiss with a big “Mwah! You wanna stay with Auntie Katelyn tonight, sweet girl?”
Cindy Lou smiles, kicking her pink-striped sock-covered feet, and then returns the kiss. Except it’s more like she blows a raspberry, and orange baby food goes everywhere, getting all over James and dribbling down Cindy Lou’s chin.
“Sum of a bifch!” he shouts in shock, disgust wrinkling his brow. “Oh gawd, it’s in ma mouf! I ’eed a ’apkin!”
We’re all fighting back laughter as Sophie, who hasn’t missed a beat of her own dinner, hands him a paper towel. To his credit, he wipes his daughter down first then scrubs at his own face.
“Language,” Mama Louise corrects.
You’d think she’d give up on that by now.
We’re all pretty rough around the edges, even though we have some decent manners.
The language rule just doesn’t seem to be one that stuck .
. . to any of us. Hell, I’ve even heard the girls go off worse than any of us boys before, depending on the topic and their level of excitement or fury.
Mama Louise’s fighting a losing battle on a sinking ship, but she combats every instance in her presence and says what we do when she’s not around is something we’ll have to make our own peace with.
“I think it was warranted, Mama. Do you know how gross those carrots are? Blech,” he argues his case, but Mama Louise isn’t swayed in the least as she purses her lips at him.
“Bet you’ll feel differently about your language, and everyone else’s” —she doesn’t look around the table, but we all hear the admonishment— “when that little girl starts repeating every word you say like a magpie.” She reaches over with a bare finger and wipes a bit of orange gunk out of the babe’s hair, smearing it on the paper towel James laid on the table.
“And I’m happy to babysit. Not to be too crass, but I’m happy to get those baby snuggles myself so that maybe I can get another grandbaby soon. Cindy Lou wants a sibling or a cousin.”
She looks around the table this time, measuring each of us.
Mark steps up to the plate first. “Mama, you know we’re not ready so quit pestering us. You make Katelyn feel pressured.” I glance at Katelyn, whose eyes are deceptively steady. I don’t think she’s the one feeling pressured.
Mama Louise tsks. “Don’t be pawning your own nerves off on your sweet girl. We all know you’re too much of a stubborn mule to share her with a baby just yet. But I have hopes that one day, you won’t be such a selfish boy.”
I can’t help but crack the smallest of smiles at Mama Louise calling Mark a boy. He’s not as big as me, but he cuts an intimidating figure at over six feet of ‘I’d rather kill you than talk to you’ attitude.
But Mama Louise is right. I don’t know the dynamic Katelyn and Mark have, but they are deeply wrapped up in one another. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sickening.
Of course, then there’s James and Sophie, who are playful and sweet and so in love, it’ll make your teeth hurt from sugar overload.
James takes the wind out of Mama Louise’s sails too.
“Mama, one day . . . maybe. But right now, if you’ll take Cindy Lou tonight, I have grand plans of taking my wife to bed, curling up under the sheets, and sleeping for eight hours straight. ”
Nobody thought that was where that sentence was going to go, but Sophie looks at James like he just promised her a trip to the moon or a night filled with orgasms.
Mama Louise looks at Luke but then winks at Shayanne.
Mama Louise is a good mother figure for Shay, one I don’t think any of us really knew she needed.
She was so young when Mom died, but Shay has always been one to tackle the world so we all thought she was fine.
Really, she was, but she’s gotten close with Mama Louise and it’s done her good.
I know they talk a lot about Shay’s businesses and her plans and dreams. So whatever Mama Louise already knows must answer her question about Shay and Luke.
Which leaves her with us Tannen boys as options.
Technically, any kids we may or may not have wouldn’t really be her grandchildren.
But I don’t think she’s ever met someone she didn’t instantly take under her wing, whether they want it or not.
As evidenced by the three tall, dark, and handsome assholes perched around her dinner table, she’s pretty much adopted us.
She isn’t Mom, but I suspect that the next generation of Tannens will call her Grandma . . . and that won’t be a bad thing.
I don’t even see it coming, but Bobby throws me under the bus like he planned the schedule and route himself.
“I guess you could call the Wildcats your latest additions, if you want? Those boys would probably love for you to fuss over them and cheer them on. You know what they need? Zucchini bread with chocolate chips.” He nods like he solved all my problems, even though the asshole knows he just created one.
I cut my eyes to him, killing him a thousand times with the daggers I’m throwing and warning him to sleep with one eye open.
One of the benefits of still living at home, in our childhood house, is that I know where all the squeaky boards are and can sneak into his room silent as a ninja to exact my revenge.
Mama Louise claps. “Oh, that would be fun. I won’t bother you for practices, but I can make zucchini bread for snack on Tuesday. And we’ll all be at the games, of course.” She glances around the table to make sure everyone heard her decree, and I see heads bobbing in agreement.
“You don’t have to do that. Any of you. It’s not a big deal. Just Peewee Football.” I shrug, downplaying it. I don’t want them all there to see me fail, to see how soft I am with the boys, to see me not knowing what the hell to do about Allyson.
Bobby scoffs. “You’re not kidding anyone, Brutal.
You’re all ‘Mike . . . blah, blah, blah . . . the boys . . . blah, blah, blah . . . Allyson . . . blah, blah, blah . . .’ Oops!
” He slaps his hand over his mouth dramatically like he misspoke, but I know damn well he said exactly what he meant to say.
Fuck ninja. I’m going in like a Spartan, straight kick to the chest.
“Who’s Allyson?” Luke asks, and I see Shay’s hand leave the table to rest on his thigh.
I strongly suspect she’s silently telling him to shut up and that she’ll explain later.
I don’t even know if she knows anything.
She was so young when Al was around. But the question is out there and eyes are on me.
“One of the boys’ moms. We went to school together.”
I intend for it to sound casual, but my reluctance is more of an answer than my words.
It’s probably moot anyway, because Luke and I are close enough in age that he and I were at Great Falls High together, though we ran in different circles.
He would have known about Al. But I just can’t imagine talking about her like this.
Mama Louise is a wise woman indeed because she changes the subject with a knowing look. “How many loaves of zucchini bread do you want? I’m happy to make however much you think they’ll eat.”
I do quick math in my head of how hungry each kid is after practice. “Four or five would be great. Thank you.”
I give her a smile of appreciation and then deadface glare at Bobby, promising death and dismemberment.