29. Sutton #2
Two minutes later, I have my answer when I’m sitting on the lounge chair in the living room, rocking Levi in my arms as I look at the coffee table filled with pie that we had frozen in the freezer, snacks, and a French coffee press.
I can hear Foster welcoming them in, and his father sounds elated, and his brother?
Reserved. The sound of footsteps coming closer draws my attention, and I quickly see Douglas grinning ear to ear as he comes toward me with his arms outstretched.
“There’s my grandson.”
Smiling, his joy is infectious. “Here he is.” I lift him slightly so Douglas can have a better look. “Tiny, ahead of time, and ready for the world.”
“Huh, he luckily got Sutton’s looks,” Patrick jokes the way brothers do as he remains back near Foster.
“Har-har.” Foster’s expression is anything but enthused. “Come, let’s sit down.”
Foster joins me by sitting on the armrest, also leaning over the table to pour coffee. “He just woke up. Probably sensed vultures on the horizon,” he mumbles humorously.
I nudge his arm with my elbow. “We’re still finding a rhythm.”
“You did well, Sutton. He’s looking healthy,” Douglas compliments as he accepts a cup of coffee from Foster.
“Well, he gave us a fright, but all is well,” I coo when I stare down at Levi. I can’t get enough of his little cheeks.
The room goes eerily quiet, and I swing my gaze between the men, wondering what’s running through their minds.
Finally, Patrick clears his throat. “Uhm… Sutton. I should apologize for what happened. I didn’t intend for you to get so upset.”
Gingerly shaking my head, I’m not going to have this, because at the end of the day, he didn’t cause this, and we have all turned the page as soon as Levi entered the world. “Thanks, but I’d rather not rehash communication among the men in your family. We’ve moved on, and all focus is on this guy.”
He nods in appreciation.
“On that note,” Douglas lifts a finger into the sky, “I believe my grandson needs a present.” He dips his hand into his blazer pocket and retrieves a box that is the perfect size for a necklace.
It reminds me of the one Foster gave me the other day, except this one is wrapped in navy blue paper with a white bow.
Foster accepts the gift. “What is this?” He appraises the box.
“A little something.” He smiles.
“Nothing company-related?” Foster checks blandly.
His father continues to smirk. “Open it.”
“Why am I scared?” I say aloud. Foster carefully shakes the box, and it jingles. The sound is a relief and instantly softens me. “Aww, is it a rattle?”
Foster unties the ribbon, and the whole time his skeptical eyes remain locked with his father. When he lifts the lid, my guess is correct. Foster drops his eyes to the toy, except that, like me, we’re both puzzled.
“Is this a gold rattle?” Foster asks dryly, and we both stare blankly at Douglas.
“Of course, he’s my grandson.”
Foster gives a little jiggle when he picks it up. “It’s, uh… a little heavy.”
“Quality, Son, quality. It’s Swiss gold, and the weight will help build grip strength and character.” I don’t sense any sarcasm in his sentence, but I keep my diplomatic smile intact.
My brows rise, and I meet Foster’s gaze. I’m trying to hide the absurdity of it all. But gosh, Douglas stares at Levi with a tenacity of pride and devotion. It’s his way of showing love.
I let out a soft social laugh. “Very… thoughtful. If I had known he would be receiving gold, then I would have dressed him as a pirate to be in theme.”
Foster’s grin slowly grows. “Thanks, Dad, I’m sure he’ll…” He isn’t sure how to finish that sentence, so he shakes his head and nods a thank-you.
Patrick swings his arm out with a bag with tissue paper hanging from his finger. “I understood the assignment.”
Foster gladly accepts while giving his father a look of disbelief. When Foster peeks into the bag, his entire demeanor changes. His breath catches, and he takes a moment to stare at the contents before pulling out the book.
“The Little Prince.” Foster’s voice is thick as he is clearly touched.
Patrick lifts one shoulder as if it’s nothing special. “Figured it might be fitting for him.”
Words seem to be lodged in Foster’s throat as he stares into the distance at the view of the city. “Uhm… yeah, I guess so. Mom used to read it to us, right?”
Ah, they are sharing a memory that only they seem to understand.
“Yeah.” Patrick’s voice is soft.
Foster sends his attention to his brother. “‘You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.’ That’s what our parents would always tell us.” Foster smiles to himself.
Balancing the baby in one arm, my other hand touches Foster’s arm for comfort. He’s been taken aback by his brother's thoughtful gesture. I’ve only read the story once, but if I recall, it’s about a boy who learns about those in a position of power. The quote is far too fitting, as well.
The room grows quiet as the brothers make their silent acknowledgment of change between them. Gosh, maybe Foster’s fear that babies make families change is all too real.
Foster clears his throat in an attempt to shift us all in a new direction. “I think we should eat something.”
I smile brightly. “We had a coconut cream pie still in the freezer. Someone in my hometown made it.”
Douglas knits his brows together. “I thought we were having lunch.”
“Live a little, Douglas. We can start with pie and coffee.”
“Fine. But let your husband enjoy a cigar with his old man later to celebrate.”
Shaking my head, I’m going to go by the book. “Absolutely not. I hate the smell, and it will stick to Foster, and we have to think of your grandson.”
“Fair point, and we would be remiss if we didn’t listen to you. A good house is where the wife sets the tone.”
“I like you more every time I see you,” I comment as Foster dishes out pieces of pie.
Patrick’s near moan grabs all of our attention, and we can see that he ate a bite of the pie. “This is fucking good.”
“Yeah, let’s not use that word around my son,” Foster points out.
Patrick forks another bite. “This is like mom’s.”
“Is it?” I’m surprised.
He nods his head. “Yeah.”
Foster chuckles under his breath. “Of course it is. We’ve been trying every pie across the city, and it was in Everhope the whole time.” He glances at me with love swimming in his eyes. “I seem to find everything I need there.”
“Seems so,” I whisper.