11. Jules
Jules
“ W ow, that’s impressive,” I say to Charlie as I answer Cal’s call. “You want Uncle Cal to hear you screaming like that?”
I hold the phone out to her, probably giving him an earful in the process.
At the mention of Cal’s name, Charlie’s temper tantrum loses steam, and she stares at the phone, then at me.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I put the phone to my ear, giving her the stink eye to make sure she understands that today is not the day, and I am not the one.
“Jules? Charlie? Are you okay?”
Dear god, the man sounds frantic.
“Yes, Captain Panic, everything is fine. We just had a minor disagreement about the proper use of food.”
He lets out a gush of air, like he’s letting out a relieved sigh. Jeez, he needs to chill out. “Are you this anxious when you run calls? My god, that must be exhausting.”
“Give me a break. In my defense, I haven’t had to run any calls on any humans I’m responsible for. ”
I chuckle, and Charlie mimics with an attempt at forced laughter, all traces of her temper tantrum forgotten.
I put the phone on speaker so she can hear his voice. “Charlie, can you say hi to Uncle Cal?”
“Hi.” The word comes out loud and clear in her high-pitched voice, and she waves at the phone.
“Hey, Belle, how’s my girl?” he coos, and holy shit , it should not be attractive listening to this man talk to this child.
I place the phone on the counter, out of reach of little hands, and fill him in on what Nancy had to say about the day, our car ride home. I’m tempted to tease him with a vivid description of climbing the flight of stairs but manage to resist.
“So you were able to get in okay?” he asks.
“Yep. We’re at your place and all settled.”
“And you’re going to stay there tonight, right?” he confirms for the third time, two previous times via text.
“Yes. As soon as I get off the phone, we’re going to finish dinner, have a bath, and maybe read a book.
” I swear . I don’t remember my brothers being this neurotic even when they had newborns, but maybe that’s because I wasn’t in the house.
Also, I actively avoided my family so they wouldn’t see all the problems I was dealing with, namely a husband who was a total dick.
I reassure Cal and am in the middle of promising to call him if we have any issues when a loud alarm sounds in the background, blocking the last of my statement.
“Shit. I’ve got to run.”
“Duty calls. I’ll text if I need you.” And then I hang up before he can get another word in.
“Shit,” the tiny terror in the high chair pipes up .
“Great. You learned a new word. I’m sure Uncle Cal is going to love that.”
Charlie does her fake laugh again. I’m reasonably sure she will eat her food instead of throwing it now, so I refill her little plate and stand guard as she inhales strawberries, green beans, and little-kid protein mac ‘n’ cheese. On a whim, I shove a noodle in my mouth.
“Hmm. Not as good as the real thing, but not bad either. Kinda bland, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” she replies, shoving another fistful in her mouth.
“Okay there, little goblin. Don’t go choking on me,” I warn and remove the bowl so that I can control how quickly she shovels.
Dinner ends with no further drama. We survive bath time, and she picks out her pajamas. There’s a drawer full of clothes that look brand new, and on further inspection, I realize they are. Tags on them and everything.
Poor guy probably doesn’t know that he needs to wash them first, so I pull them out of the drawer, set Charlie up with some toys, and run a load of laundry for him.
I teach Charlie the joys of doing a dance party, and her tiny giggles as she shakes her booty have me in stitches. We do story time and drink milk, brush her teeth, and then she and her little fox go right off to bed.
It’s the easiest babysitting job I’ve ever had.
Besides the dinner incident, which I’m beginning to suspect was actually due to a case of her being hangry more than anything, we’ve had a lovely, chill evening.
The apartment falls silent, and with not being in my own space, I’m suddenly left with nothing to do.
I finish the laundry, then clean the kitchen. I check on Charlie via the monitor that Cal has installed and find her sleeping soundly. I scroll through shows on his TV.
I intentionally left my planner and all the shop plans downstairs, and now I’m wishing I hadn’t.
With nothing left to do, I pick up my phone and call Lissette.
“Hey, girl. What’s up?”
“I’m at the firefighter’s apartment.”
“Uh, and you’re calling me?”
My eyes roll, because of course she wasn’t paying attention when we had this discussion earlier.
“Oh yeah, you’re babysitting. And quit rolling your eyes.”
“I left my planner downstairs, and I’m bored.”
“So snoop.”
“Lissette. I can’t snoop in the man’s house.”
“Why not? I would.”
Of course she would .
“I heard that.” She laughs.
“I didn’t say it out loud.”
She laughs harder. “Jules. Why are you really calling?”
“I told you. I’m bored.”
“Okay. Well. I’m in the middle of trying to seduce Tom.
So I’m gonna let you go. Search his drawers or something.
Smell his laundry. You know, if it makes you feel a little naughty…
that’s what you should do. Also, I hired a new kid, should be starting in a few days.
So your shift will be covered and you can move on to the new shop.
” She drops the last without compunction, like she’s not just rocking my world and freeing me of any other responsibilities than getting my business open.
“You’re a weirdo. And also very rude. And thank you. I’ll stop by and see you tomorrow. ”
This forced downtime should feel relaxing. But after a few antagonizing moments with nothing to entertain me, I find myself wandering Cal’s apartment.
I do need to familiarize myself with the place if I’m going to be staying here every third night. I already know his well-stocked kitchen. But then there’s his organized laundry. And in the den, everything is in its place. The man is tidy.
For being such a wreck when I saw him those first few times, he’s been working overdrive to keep his living space tidy and neat. There’s no clutter or mail stacks.
The walls are a light gray; his furniture is a dark charcoal. His kitchen is mostly white. He’s got one recliner and a couch, both in gray, and a massive television hangs on the wall over a plain bookcase.
Charlie’s room is neat, minimalistic with a simple crib and dresser. I can imagine that in the amount of work he’s done since I saw this room last, it’ll be covered in toys sooner rather than later.
Otherwise, there are no pictures nor many personal items at all in the apartment. The only pop of color comes from a basket of mostly pink toys in the den.
Noting the simple throw blanket on the back of the couch, I figure that’s where I’ll spend the night, but there’s no pillow.
I can’t sleep without a pillow. That’s my excuse as I wander into his bedroom.
Lissette was right; it feels a little naughty being in his space without him here.
But this room must be where he’s spent most of his time.
On that king-size bed, probably watching—I check the wall—another massive television. This room has at least some color variation. Instead of gray, his comforter is a deep navy.
I stick my head into the bathroom, and where Charlie’s was full of toys, multiple baby soaps to choose from, and two different kinds of lotion, his space is simplistic and clean. One bottle of shampoo and a single bar of soap.
I get the feeling that Cal would do anything and everything for this little girl. He’s already provided so much more for her than he allows for himself. It’s apparent that he’s already head over heels for her.
Feeling like a creeper, I grab a pillow from the bed and rush back to the couch. I plug in my phone and pull up the Kindle app on my phone.
But as my head hits the pillow and I settle in to read, I’m surrounded by his scent. And as I drift off, it’s him I imagine as the hero of my book.