Chapter 3
Camille
This is the first day of me watching the boys at Cole’s place and it’s been a whirlwind of activity. I had Holden run next door to check on grams an hour after I got here and had him bring back my slow cooker so we could all work together to make chili for dinner. I know I didn’t need to make dinner for Cole and the boys, but I was already planning to make chili for grams and me, so this just works out. The boys were great, helping pour, measure and Holden helped with chopping bell pepper and onion. Around three, I make a batch of cornbread before taking the boys to the living room to unwind at four.
“Cam, can you read to us?” Cody’s question is paired with the cutest damn puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. The kid’s a damn menace with blue eyes that he’s clearly figured out how to weaponize to get what he wants…and it works…god, it works.
“Sure, do you know what book you want me to read?” He jumps up and retrieves an e-reader from the end table then settles onto the couch beside me. I watch as his little hands expertly swipe to locate his story before he hands it to me. He picked Charlotte’s Web and once we’re all comfortable on the couch with Joey on my lap, Cody sitting on my right and Holden on my left, I begin reading. I barely finish the second chapter when I hear the door open and I glance down to find that all three boys are sleeping.
“I think you broke my boys.” I don’t even know how to take his comment, most likely because his tone is almost…amused? I could comment on the strange lack of hostility, but I’d rather preserve this fragile moment, make an escape before he suddenly comes to his senses and remembers that he hates me for reasons I may never truly understand.
“They worked hard today.” I Carefully adjust Holden and Cody so they aren’t leaning on me then get up and place Joey between them, using the throw blanket on the back of the couch to bunch up next to him as a barrier so he won’t roll off.
“Child labor?” I look up at him to find some unreadable expression on his face and offer a shrug.
“Basically, yeah. Slave labor disguised as fun. I put them to work helping make dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but I had already planned to make chili for grams, so I just brought everything over here and used your kitchen. Grams grumpy ass gets fed and so do all of you. Adulting at its finest.” The corner of his lips lift up into the smallest smile.
“I don’t mind, but you don’t have to do that.” I can’t even stop the eye roll I throw his way as I head to the kitchen with his footsteps trailing behind me.
“I never said I had to, but the boys had fun helping and I know that one of my favorite things when I was a kid was to help cook, bake…pretty much anything that involved making food.” I dish some of the chili into the storage container I brought then place a few pieces of cornbread in the other before sealing them up.
“Your mom's a good cook?” My body tenses slightly, caught off guard by the rather unexpected question.
“I honestly wouldn’t know. My mom was…broken…a complete junkie in every sense. Grams didn’t even know I existed until the day CPS picked me up from my house after my mom was arrested for a DUI and possession of narcotics. She told them she had a daughter at home, but she only did it because she thought it would get them to go easy on her, to let her go. I was five and she had left me at home alone all the time, so I know she didn’t tell them because she was worried about me. Grams got the call and within three weeks, I was living here with her. We never heard from my mom again after that.” I stack the two containers and pick them up, anything to keep my hands busy.
“That’s shitty. I’m sorry.” I give yet another shrug, but this is one of indifference.
“My world’s been full of shitty things, but I’m still here. Shitty mom, shitty jobs, shitty ex-husband…the one thing in my life that’s never been shitty is grams.” A strange silence passes between us before I decide I need to make my exit before I word vomit even more. “I should get going. Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, same time. Um, thanks again.” I doubt my smile reaches my eyes, but it’ll have to do for now. I head out of the kitchen, grabbing my cell phone on the way through the living room then leave without another word.
It’s the fourth day of watching the boys for Cole and I swear, these kids have far too much energy and it seems to kick in the second they wake up! Holden, I’ve noticed, is the more soft spoken of the three, always taking his time to process things before speaking, as if he’s running scenarios in his head of every possible reaction he might receive to whatever he’s about to say. Cody is the outspoken one, always blurting out whatever thought enters his mind. Then there’s Joey…what can I say? The kid’s two and is a category five hurricane wrapped in giggles, messes and the random sleep induced melt downs…but he’s also sweet, loves hugs and has an odd fascination with my hair.
Unlike the first three mornings when I arrived, today, only Holden was awake when I showed up with all the ingredients to make homemade pancakes with sausage and eggs. Cody woke up about ten minutes after Cole left for work and then there’s Joey…the kid woke up with an attitude that would make a secret service agent flinch, but I smiled through it and by the end of breakfast, he was smiling too.
For tonight’s dinner, I made beef stew…in my slow cooker…again. I made enough for Cole and the boys, even though he said I don’t need to, but I’ve cooked dinner every night I’ve watched them and his protests get weaker every day. Once again, I read the boys a story around four, but this time, only Joey fell asleep, curled up in my lap while Holden and Cody went to play quietly in their rooms. When I hear the front door open, I don’t feel the usual tension in my muscles, something I’ve noticed lessening every day.
“Hey, how were they?” He’s learning, his voice remaining low, calm and steady unlike the first two days when he came in with his loud voice and even louder ritual of stripping away all traces of his workday. He’s respecting the quiet…trying not to wake whichever children are asleep.
“Well, it was an interesting morning, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He hums softly as I settle Joey onto the couch, using the same blanket off the back to create a barrier around him before turning to face Cole.
“Let me guess, Joey was a little terrorist this morning?” That earns a soft chuckle and a lazy nod from me.
“You could say that. I mean, I wouldn’t say he was a terrorist, but he definitely woke up and chose violence today. He mellowed out by lunch and then helped pick up the toys in the living room before story time, so it wasn’t too bad.” So far, during my time watching the boys, my interactions with Cole have mostly been me saying good morning when I arrive, which he mumbles ‘morning’ in response, me saying have a good day when he leaves, which he responds to with a grunt that’s driven home by the firm *click* of the front door closing, and him asking how the boys were. No matter what I say during this final interaction, the most he’ll say is ‘good’ or ‘alright’, so when he snorts out a laugh, like he’s trying to hold that shit back, but fails…I’m left a little speechless.
“Raising boys isn’t for the weak, that’s for sure. Something smells good.” Okay, so I might be staring at him like he just performed the worlds greatest magic trick, but, well, he kind of did…he spoke to me…like a semi-normal, non-grumpy-bastard-like human being!
“It’s not too bad, or maybe your boys are just raised right. They’re helpful, kind, absolutely hilarious and, yeah, so they bicker and have attitudes now and then, but they’re good kids. You’ve done a damn good job raising them.” With my eyes following his post-work ritual of taking off his work boots, setting his keys and wallet on the shelf above the coat rack by the door and emptying his pockets, I don’t miss the way his movements pause, or the surprised look he gives me over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” One word, a single damn syllable and it hits me square in the chest. It’s not just the word, but the uncertainty in not only his voice, but in his damn blue eyes that usually look at me with anger, or something close to irritated tolerance.
“Yeah, Cole. Oh, I made stew for dinner. Fair warning, Cody thinks the broth is gravy. He had a bit of a melt-down when Holden told him stew is a kind of soup. I didn’t realize Cody would take it as a personal attack on his integrity to be fed soup, so I made a compromise…told him the reason stew is far superior to soup is because it has gravy instead of broth. I wasn’t sure if it would work or not, but he bought it and is now officially excited to eat gravy stew.” And…I’m speechless…the grumpy bastard is genuinely smiling! I mean, it’s not some beaming smile with teeth showing and crinkling at the corners of his eyes, but it’s softer, a gentle upturn at the corners and his posture seems less rigid now.
“So, you tricked him?” There’s no malice, no irritation, just a thin layer of amusement mixed into his usual growly tone and even one corner of his lip lifts into a smirk. I place my hand on my chest in mock offense and let out a dramatic gasp.
“I would never! The broth in stew is too thick to be a typical broth and is more like a gravy that’s slightly thinner than your typical gravy. You call it a trick, I call it cleverly selling my product and adjusting the ad for the target audience.” I make my way to the kitchen and begin my new routine of filling the storage container for me and grams.
“I appreciate you doing all this. The boys…they really like you.” If I didn’t know him the way I kind of do now, the strain in his voice, the one that makes it sound like those words were far too painful to say, I would feel insulted…but I don’t.
“Yeah? I like them too. Alright, so, same time tomorrow?” I turn just in time to see him dragging one of his large hands down his face as he begins to nod, but suddenly pauses, his expression making it clear that he just remembered something.
“Shit, actually, would it be too much trouble for you to be here by five tomorrow? My boss took on a job in Trenton and the prick told them we’d be out there at seven, like the hour long drive wouldn’t be a damn inconvenience at ass dark thirty.” I won’t lie, hearing his irritation directed at someone else, I can’t help smiling.
“I’m up between three and four every morning, so it’s really not a problem, Cole. I’ll be here.” There’s no missing the way his whole body seems to deflate a little, relaxing as the stress seems to just melt away.
“Thanks. I should be back at my usual time, but if things take longer than expected, I’ll see if Brett can come relieve you.” I shake my head and grab the storage container off the counter.
“Don’t worry about it. I can stay till you get home, Cole. It’s not a problem, I promise. The boys go with me to check on grams a few times a day then we hang out, play games, read stories and cook. It’s not like I don’t enjoy my time hanging out with them, so don’t worry about it…seriously.” Any remaining tension in his muscles officially vanishes and he’s now slouched against the fridge, nodding his head while looking completely thrown off by this whole situation.
“Yeah, okay…thanks.”