21. 21 #2
Drumming my thumbs against the steering wheel, I feel sweat beading at my hairline. I don’t know what to tell Grace because I certainly can’t tell her the truth. Settling on the partial truth, I say, “I met your mom at a… restaurant, and we struck up a conversation and became friends.”
Restaurant sounds better than motel bar, and became friends sounds a hell of a lot better than we had a one-night stand.
When we get to the old-fashioned ice cream parlor, I let the girls order the biggest sundaes the place offers. The more time Grace spends eating, the less time she has to interrogate me. As I lick my ice cream cone, my phone buzzes.
Annabelle
How are the girls ?
After snapping a photo of the girls with their bowls of ice cream that are bigger than their heads, I text it to Annabelle.
Annabelle
Resorting to bribes to win them over?
Me
I figured I’d pave the way with a little sugar.
Annabelle
Based on those smiles, it looks like it’s working.
Is it okay if I stay at the hospital until Laura’s mom arrives? She lives out of town, though, so she probably won’t get here until late this evening. If you’ve got plans, I can leave earlier.
Me
Take all the time you need, Yankee. I’ve got the girls covered.
What would you think about a slumber party at my condo? It’s close to the hospital, so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Brentwood tonight.
I can almost feel her reluctance through the phone, but I don’t want her driving late at night.
When I saw her at the hospital, she was so overwrought that she could hardly stand.
Combine that exhaustion with an adrenaline crash, and she’ll be dead on her feet, having no business making the long drive home.
Me
I have plenty of room, and it’ll be fun.
Annabelle
If you don’t mind, that sounds great.
After the girls finish as much of their sundaes as they can eat, I take them back to their house to pack for our impromptu slumber party.
“You’re not kidnapping us, are you?” Grace inquires, dawdling at the front door of their house as I flip through the keys on Annabelle’s key ring until I locate the key that slides smoothly into the lock.
A chuckle breaks free from my chest. Ruffling Grace’s hair, I reassure her. “No, sweet pea. But if you’re worried, we can call your mom.”
A gross look crosses her face. “Sweet pea?”
“It’s a type of flower—”
“I know what it is, Mr. Hayes, but you cannot call me that.” She leans closer to me, whispering, "It sounds like you're calling me urine."
My grin widens. This kid kills me. “Noted, Grace. Grab everything you’ll need to spend the night at my place. I have an indoor heated pool at my condo, so pack your swimsuits. Meanwhile, I’ll pack your mom a bag.”
Grace grimaces and points to her younger sister. “I can do that, but you’ll need to help Claire pack. Trust me. She can’t do it herself.”
Claire catches me off-guard by lowering her shoulder and rushing toward her older sister like a bull charging a matador. Claire seems so sweet and docile, but she’s got a tough side to her, too. Much like her mama.
“Whoa, there, tiger,” I say, picking the tyke up and swinging her around before she can take down her sister. “Grace, I think Claire can pack for herself. Right, Claire?” My faith in Claire’s abilities is rewarded with another dimpled smile and an enthusiastic nod .
As Grace retreats to her room, I hear her mutter, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Mr. Hayes.”
With the girls in their respective rooms, I walk through Annabelle’s bedroom and into her closet.
I grab some clothes and throw everything in a tote bag I find hanging in the closet.
Opening the dresser drawers, I find what I’m looking for and add it to the bag.
My fingers linger over her lacy undergarments, but I force myself to focus and stop pawing at her panties.
From there, I walk into the attached bathroom to grab her toiletries. A familiar bottle sitting on the ledge of her bathtub catches my eye. It's a travel-sized bottle of the body wash I use. The cap is off, and the bottle is almost empty.
A bottle that was full when I lost it at Tank's Motel and Tavern a year ago.
That little vixen. She stole my body wash , I smile to myself.
Once I finish packing the essentials for Annabelle, I head toward the girls’ rooms to see how they’re coming along.
Claire meets me in the hallway with a large bag and her pillow.
Together we walk into Grace’s room to find her folding her pile of clothes with care before reverently tucking each item into a small rolling suitcase.
“Alright, I’m all packed,” she exclaims once she’s zipped it up.
“You may want to check Claire’s bag, Mr. Hayes. ”
“Grace, you can call me Ruston or Hayes. No need to keep calling me Mr. Hayes.” Eyeing Claire’s large bag with suspicion, I decide to heed Grace’s suggestion. “Claire, let’s see what you packed, okay?”
“Okay, Wusty,” she replies with her adorable speech impediment that makes it difficult for her to say her R sound.
Well, Grace was right, and by the giant smile upon her face, she knew she would be.
The contents of Claire’s bag include a stack of books, three pairs of underwear, two teddy bears, an iPad charging cord but no iPad, a small container of turtle food, one winter jacket, and a mermaid costume.
Rather than unpack her bag, I rummage through Claire’s dresser drawers and bathroom cabinets to find the items that she’ll need—a swimsuit, pajamas, a school uniform for tomorrow, toothbrush, and her hairbrush—and add them to her bag.
After arriving at my condo, we spent the next hour playing in the pool, which I thought would be a great way for them to burn off all the sugar they ingested at the ice cream parlor.
But based on how rambunctious the girls are, I’m more tired than either of them by the time we leave the pool.
Wrapped in towels, we ride the elevator up to my penthouse as we discuss dinner plans.
I try to remember what prepared meals I have in the freezer and name a few options.
“Thursday is pizza night. You know how some people do Taco Tuesday every week? Well, we do Pizza Thursday. Do you think we could make homemade pizza? If we can’t make it, could we order it? In fact, ordering it might be easier and faster for you.”
Claire’s eyes light up at her older sister’s suggestion. “Yes! Pizza sounds so yummy, Wusty.”
“Pizza it is then, girls. What do you like on your pizza? Pepperoni? Sausage?”
“I like pepperoni, but Claire will only eat cheese pizza. We always share a half-cheese, half-pepperoni pizza.”
As we wait for our pizzas to be delivered, the girls take a quick shower together while I hover in the hallway like a nervous nelly .
Can kids drown in the shower? What if one of them slips and falls?
I’ve never taken care of kids before, so I’m winging it.
But it’s nerve-wracking to be responsible for the well-being of two little humans.
Grace proves more than capable, and they pop out of the bathroom door smelling clean and dressed in pajamas .
“Okay, Grace, I’m new to all this. Is there anything else we need to do now?”
“After we swim, the chlorine makes our hair extra tangly, so you need to brush it. Then, my mom braids our hair before bedtime.” She squishes up her nose. “Do you know how to braid, Hayes?”
“I do not. Think you can teach me?”
“Probably,” Grace replies, her tone serious.
“If not, we can watch some YouTube videos. That’s what my mom does when there’s something that we need done around the house, but she doesn’t know how to do it.
Like when the toilet kept running. She fixed it after watching a video because she said that having a plumber come out on the weekend would be too expensive.
” Grace pats my shoulder, but I detect a hint of condescension in her voice.
“So, I bet you can do that to learn to braid.”
That’s how I find myself watching YouTube videos on hair braiding and eating pizza around the coffee table in the den with two little girls on a random Thursday evening in December.
Grace is adept at braiding and braids Claire’s hair with quick, practiced fingers. It turns out that I have two left hands when it comes to braiding. After several failed attempts, I finally reach a modicum of success. The braid on Grace’s head is loose and a little lopsided, but it’ll do.
“You did pretty well today, Hayes.”
Her words feel like high praise coming from the little ballbuster herself. “Thank you, Grace. I couldn’t have done it without your help, though, kiddo.” I nudge her gently with my elbow and wink.
She shoots me a side-eye and nods once. “That’s accurate.”
I laugh. “Grace, sometimes I forget that I’m speaking to a seven-year-old and not an adult. ”
“I’ll be eight in five months.” She grins sheepishly while she fiddles with the hair tie at the end of her braid. “But yeah, my mom says that I came out of the womb as a middle-aged woman.”
“What’s a womb?” Claire asks.
Nope, not going there.
At bedtime, the girls brush their teeth and crawl into the queen bed in one of my guest rooms. I stretch out between them and start working through the stack of books Claire packed for us to read.
She curls into the crook of my arm, her cheek resting on my chest, a small arm draped across my stomach.
Grace doesn’t snuggle in like Claire does, but she lies close.
We’re halfway through the third book before both girls are sound asleep. I close my eyes for a few minutes, not wanting to move too quickly and risk waking them.
As I rest, I think back on how unexpectedly today unfolded. I had the chance to be there for Annabelle, and I’m grateful she trusted me with the most precious part of her world.