Chapter 14
Alexander
After Haven left for the spa this morning, I realized Everly was officially two months old. I happened to mention it to Miles when he popped over for a coffee and moral support, and the day spiraled from there.
Now we’re in the snug, throwing a birthday party.
“Are you sure you don’t have a balloon pump?” Miles puffs out to Eddie, walking in carrying another box of decorations left over from the summer fair.
The pastel bunting we hung looks a little odd next to a roaring fire and a rapidly darkening sky outside, but whatever.
“I didn’t even know I had balloons, Miles. So I can tell you for certain I don’t have a pump,” Eddie grumbles, dropping the box on the floor. “In my day, we just used our lungs.”
“In your day—”
“Yes?”
Miles and Eddie glare at each other before Miles concedes with a huffed, “Never mind.”
“Thanks for the help, Eddie. We’ll return everything in one piece,” I call after him as he trundles back to the One True Love.
“Here, give me some.” I hold my hand out for Miles to pass me the pack of party balloons.
I take a couple and toss the rest over to Lando, sitting on a chair, reading the Financial Times, where he’s been since he walked in. “You can help too.”
He doesn’t even look up as the pack flies through the air, hits the front cover of the paper, and drops into his lap. But it catches his attention.
“She’s two months old, Al. She can’t even pick out colors, let alone have any awareness of what a birthday party is. She wants to be fed, burped, and clean. That is literally the limit of a two-month-old’s priorities.”
I’m not about to lecture Lando on Everly’s genius when it comes to colors. Instead, I snap, “Who made you the fun police today? Blow up a fucking balloon. It’s for your niece.”
He responds with a thick eye roll and a heavy sigh, but folds the newspaper, picks up a green one, and starts blowing. In all fairness to him, he didn’t come over expecting to prepare a birthday party.
He came because I need to talk to him.
“Why’s the duke more moody than usual today?” I ask Miles between puffs of my own balloon—a red one—that doesn’t want to inflate.
“I’m not moody,” Lando retorts, only for the green balloon to slip from his fingers and fall to the floor, letting out a pathetically weak fart noise. The sound has Dolly darting to the other side of the room. Blackberry doesn’t flinch. “For fuck’s sake.”
Miles drops his chin, smirking, and Lando picks it up to start again.
“I’m meeting Holiday’s family next week.”
He leaves the statement dangling for the two of us to finish. Miles gets there first.
“And you’re shitting yourself?”
“Not quite, but close enough.”
“What are you going back for again?”
“It’s Thanksgiving. We’re staying with her parents, and her whole family will be there. All of them.”
“Can’t be any worse than us.”
Lando holds his balloon and wags it at Miles. “But that’s where you’re wrong. Holiday and I weren’t together when she met you lot. There’s more at stake here.”
Miles is about to reply, but I jump in first. I want to be sympathetic to Lando’s plight, I really do, but there are more pressing matters at hand because I just realized that if Holiday is celebrating Thanksgiving, then Haven should be too.
“Wait, back up. Thanksgiving? That’s a big deal, right?”
Lando gives one solemn nod. “It’s why Hol’s been baking all her pumpkin pies—”
“Tell her that last one was delicious.” Miles slaps his stomach.
I throw him a scowl for interrupting. “And this is everywhere in America?”
“I think so. I think it’s bigger than Christmas.” He shrugs. “Why? Isn’t Haven going back to the States? I thought you were flying there together.”
“We are. I mean . . . um . . . yes. But she’s not mentioned Thanksgiving or if she’s celebrating it. But . . .” I pause. Fuck. Maybe this is going to put a spanner in the works. “I was going to ask her to stay for Christmas.”
I came to the decision somewhere in the middle of the night, while I was sitting in the rocking chair googling What is a Girl Dad? and ruminating on what my house would be like without Haven and Everly. Emptier, for one.
It led me to picture my future, particularly how long I could conceivably go without seeing my daughter. Two weeks max was the number I came to, though twenty-four hours was more preferable.
Two weeks flying back and forth across the Atlantic. Which isn’t impossible, but not ideal, because then I had to decide how long we would spend together between the two weeks. And I travel for work, which I’d need to fit around seeing Everly.
It would require a lot of planning, and that’s why I asked Lando to come over. I have an idea I want to run past him, but I’m not going to do it while he’s red-faced from blowing up balloons.
While it was a productive night of thinking, it was also the second night in a row I got very little sleep. It’s probably why I didn’t second-guess this whole birthday party thing when I mentioned Everly’s milestone to Miles.
Behind me, he whoops, while Lando’s brows shoot up.
“Christmas?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Lando’s eyes shoot to Miles, and I know exactly what he’s going to ask next.
“Does this mean you’ll be here for Christmas?”
I nod again. “If Haven agrees. If she doesn’t, then I’ll be somewhere else. Wherever Everly is.” That was something else I decided in the middle of the night. If Haven says no to staying, then I’ll just go wherever she is. Wherever they are.
Miles lets out another whoop, adding, “It was my idea.”
“I hope she says yes,” Lando adds quietly. “We always miss you at Christmas, Al.”
I don’t reply and he doesn’t expect me to. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said, and it helps push my guilt away quicker when we stay silent. Miles being Miles breaks any looming tension by throwing a balloon at my face.
“I’m all done. What’s next?”
“I’m not sure.” I shake my head, flicking my wrist to check my watch. “I’ll have to wake Everly up soon for her afternoon bottle. What time will the girls be done? How long does a spa take anyway?”
“Who knows.” Miles shrugs. “Do they even know where we are? What if they go to the pub after, as that’s where we said we’d be?”
I’ve been so caught up in birthday party planning, it slipped my mind we’re not where we said we’d be, when Lando pipes up, “I already told Holiday we’re here. They’re on the way back.”
Shit. There’s still so much to do for this weird party that didn’t exist until this morning.
“Does anyone know where Hen is? He’s supposed to be bringing the birthday cake.”
Another of Lando’s balloons zips through the air and drops on the floor. This time his expression is more amused than annoyed. “Birthday cake? Seriously, Al? Are you okay?”
“It’s not a birthday party without cake, Lan.” I shouldn’t have to explain, and then I hear the door open.
“Reinforcements are here,” Hendricks calls out.
It’s followed by a screech from Max, and a very out-of-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday,” which sets off all three dogs howling, because Hamish and Maud have also arrived to join in the fun.
“Maxy, come and help blow up balloons,” demands Miles, only to knock Max in the face with one the moment he walks into the room.
“Hey. Not fair,” he gripes, and, picking up the nearest balloon he can find, returns the favor.
I leave them to their balloon fight and run to warm Everly’s bottle before waking her.
I find her staring at the mobile flying above her crib, blue eyes wide, before focusing on me, and she lets out a big smile that melts my heart.
I’m sure any parent would think this about their child, but she’s seriously the most beautiful baby.
When Max was born he was widely regarded as incredibly cute, but he wasn’t this cute.
“Hello, darling. Did you have a good nap?”
I lift her out and my nose finds her neck. Breathing in that sweet baby scent is as addictive as crack because I can’t get enough of her, and I know two weeks without her is going to be akin to withdrawal.
I take my time feeding her, resting her in the crook of my arm while she sucks down the milk like she’s not eaten for days. Her legs stretch out, so much longer than they were when she arrived. My growing girl.
Even after she finishes, I stay and savor the quiet time. I don’t want to go downstairs to the rabble, but in the end, before someone comes looking for me, I get up, change her nappy, and put her in one of the dozens and dozens of dresses my mother bought her—a pink one with little bunnies.
“My cousin is here,” yells Max when we walk back into the snug.
“Hey Maxy, what do you say I employ you to announce my arrival wherever I go? I kind of like that idea, and I’ll pay you in gummy bears,” pitches Miles, which has Lando scoffing.
“Your arrival does not need announcing.”
In the time I’ve been upstairs, my brothers have finished decorating. Of sorts.
Balloons are all over the floor, and the bunting is hung across the fireplace, except no one has noticed that one end has fallen off where I stuck it. There’s also a Max-sized finger swipe through the frosting on the birthday cake.
“Uncle Alex, does Everly want a balloon?” Max follows me through to the kitchen, where I retrieve Everly’s bouncer and take it to the snug.
“I’m sure she would love one if you can show her how to hold it. Don’t let it pop, though, okay?”
Max takes one with a serious expression and a very deep nod. “I won’t.”
I’m about to place her in the bouncer when Maud barks at the front door opening.
Holiday walks in first and launches herself at Lando like she hasn’t seen him in months. He picks her up and carries her over to the chair where they snuggle down, whispering and giggling to each other about their respective days. Miles rolls his eyes, his lip curled in revulsion.
I see his point. But I’m less revolted and more jealous.