Chapter 7
Alex parks his Denali, which is roughly the size of a small boat, across two residential parking spots outside of Building A of Elm Community. He rolls down his driver’s side window when he sees me waving at him from the sidewalk.
“Those are dedicated spots. You can’t park there,” I shout.
His dark shades hide the eye roll I’m sure he’s giving me. “Who’s going to arrest me?” he shouts back from across the lot. “It’s just for a couple of hours.”
He’s in for a surprise, that’s for sure. When he agreed to help me move Amani from her apartment to my condo, he had no idea the sheer volume of the contents of her closet. Then again, neither did I. Had I known, I would’ve hired a small army.
I’ve learned two fun facts about my new friend, Amani Rhodes, today. She’s weird about taking tags off things; she seems to be trapped in a perpetual state of “what if I need to return this?” Her broken-in light pink love seat, thoroughly stained, and bleached in patches where she tried to remedy the stains, still has the purchase receipts that she tucks into the withered cushion.
The other fun fact: the woman never wears a bra at home and it’s fucking distracting. I think she’s torturing me on purpose. It’s not like I’m thrilled about the “just friends” rule I imposed. But every time I fantasize about bending her over her faded pink love seat, I remember that by the end of summer, she wants to be pregnant. No way I can commit to that, nor do I want to distract her from what she wants. So friends it is.
Alex steps out of his SUV, but instead of heading in my direction, he hustles to the passenger side back door. And with that, I know Alex is going to be of zero help today.
“I said bring reinforcements,” I say, allowing my smile to grow wide as I quicken my steps across the parking spaces to greet them.
“I did,” he replies, unbuckling my nephew from his car seat.
“Are you helping us move today, buddy? I’m not sure if you’re strong enough.” My goofy “Uncle Adam” voice is involuntary. Every time I see Carson’s big, buggy, blue eyes and his fat toddler cheeks, a cheeriness from deep inside me bubbles up. “Let’s see. Show me your muscles.” I demonstrate by lifting my arms and bending them at the elbows, flexing my biceps.
Alex sets him down, his clean, tiny red Converse hitting the asphalt with a soft thud. His thick, jet-black hair contrasts his fair skin. He looks so much like his dad, but with his mother’s unmistakable deep dimples.
Carson’s squealing with laughter, refusing to mimic me making a muscle. He knows the minute his arms are in the air and his little armpits are unprotected, I’m going to tickle the shit out of him.
“Come on, bud. Like this.” I flex a little harder. “Show me those guns.”
“Don’t say guns around him,” Alex scolds me.
“He’s a boy, he’s going to learn what guns are soon enough.” Dropping my arms, I hold my hands out and curl my fingers like a monster, enjoying my nephew’s shrieks of tickle torture anticipation.
“He’s been a parrot lately. Tara gave me a whole list of things we can’t say around him.”
I keep my eyes locked on Carson as I slowly take a playfully menacing step forward. Convenient that he’s wearing a diaper because he’s laughing so hard, surely he’s peed his pants by now.
“Where is Tara?” I ask my brother.
“Headed to Seattle. She’s getting to scrub in on a coronary revascularization. It’s the most complicated surgery she’s ever assisted with. It’s a big deal for her fellowship.”
Carson has let his guard down, staring at his daddy, trying to sound out the big words he just heard. So I lunge. Before he can make sense of what’s happening, my nephew is in my arms, giggling and snorting as I trill my fingers over his belly. I quickly go from tickling him to grasping him firmly, preventing him from wiggling out of my grip and meeting the concrete head first.
“Does it bother you that your baby momma is saving lives, and you work pretty much a nine-to-five where you build tits?”
Alex gestures to Carson and glares at me. “Don’t say tits.”
“He breastfed,” I say nonchalantly. “Tits is a word he already knows.”
My brother rolls his eyes, but then a cocky smirk spreads across his face. “You know what’s messed up? When she’s done with her fellowship, she will literally be an expert in heart transplants.” Alex lowers his voice. “Tara is so much smarter than me. She works harder—”
“And better looking,” I add.
“True. But shut up. Point is, the surgeries she performs make me feel inept as a surgeon, yet I’ll still always earn double what she does. How fucked up is that? This world has backward priorities.”
Carson shows me a mischievous, toothy grin before he repeats, “Fucked up.”
I howl in laughter, watching Alex’s face scrunch up. I’m pretty sure “fuck” was also on Tara’s list of words we can’t say around her son.
My brother grumbles under his breath as he opens the trunk and fetches Carson’s diaper bag and a giant stuffed duck, three times the size of my head. I raise my brows at him. “He won’t nap without it,” Alex explains.
I kiss Carson’s head before setting him down on the ground. He’s barely steady on his feet before he holds out his little hand, opening and closing it rapidly in a toddler “gimme” motion, asking for my finger. I oblige and he wraps his tentacle of a grip around my pointer finger before we shuffle across the parking lot.
“Not that I’m complaining about the surprise because I haven’t seen little man in weeks now, but why would you come help today when you had Carson? You know you’re useless while you have to keep an eye on him,” I say to Alex.
“Oh, I’m not here to help.” He pauses and points to the other side of the parking lot where the spaces are covered by a roof, protecting vehicles from the elements. His eyes are fixed on my Porsche, parked in spot 3A. “I need to know who the heck this woman is that got you to pull your favorite car out of storage. You don’t let anyone drive the Porsche.”
“That’s not true,” I intone. It’s completely true. Maybe a small part of me wanted to impress Amani. Not with the fanciness of the car, just by the fact that I was willing to share it. It’s a fucking fantastic car. She deserves to have a little fun while she can. It’s not the kind of car you put a car seat in.
“It is true. I asked to borrow it once,” Alex says, pulling off his sunglasses, locking eyes on me. “I believe you said ‘over my dead body.’”
“Right before you threatened to kill me.”
Alex smiles. “You gave clear instructions. Apparently, I needed a dead body to drive it.”
“Funny. Anyway, Amani and I are friends. I’m just being nice.” Wrapping my thumb around the back of his hand, I give Carson’s hand a little squeeze. “Uncle Adam’s nice, right?”
Carson strains his neck to meet my eyes. “Ice cream?”
“No, buddy, I said Uncle Adam’s nice—” I stop mid-sentence. “Eh, screw it. Yes, we can go get ice cream.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could watch him tomorrow for a while? I rescheduled most of my appointments when Tara told me about her trip, but I have one patient who has a drainage situation and I need to—”
“Bleh, stop. Say no more. Me and little man can hang tomorrow. No problem.” It’s good timing. With Chase living in Denver, I’m finding myself without much to do. I’m missing the chaos, and my days are far too uneventful.
I resist the urge to scoop Carson up, and instead we take the stairs painfully slow. My nephew loves to be a big boy, but watching him swing his little legs up and over each step is kind of like watching a sloth climb a tree. After what feels like years later, we arrive at condo 3A, and I knock. Alex shoots me a quizzical look. “Isn’t this your place?”
“Not anymore,” I mutter as Amani opens the door.
“It’s still unlocked, Adam. You don’t have to knock every time,” she says, then turns her attention to Alex. “Hello, you must be Dr. Montgomery.”
“Just Alex,” he replies. She shakes my brother’s hand while her gaze shifts from Alex to me, then down to Carson. She squats so fast, in less than a heartbeat she’s eye level with my nephew. “Hi, cutie pie, what’s your name?”
I nudge a sheepish Carson forward with my knee. “This is Uncle Adam’s friend, Amani. Amani, this is my nephew, Carson. He’s here to help you move.”
Carson holds his pudgy hand timidly and Amani clasps both of her hands around his.
“It’s nice to meet you, Carson. You’re sweet to help me today. Hey, you know what? I actually have some juice boxes. Do you want a juice box?” She snaps her gaze up to Alex. “Wait, sorry, I should’ve asked first. Is he allowed to have juice?”
My brother smiles and nods. “Just don’t tell his mom if it’s not organic.”
“Why do you have juice boxes?” I ask her.
“I like them. Good portion control,” she says, shrugging. Her top knot bun knocks against her sweaty makeup-free forehead. It’s just been me and Amani for hours now, moving boxes from Building H to Building A, one by one. The manual labor was a little grueling, but at least I’ve had the privilege of staring at her freckles all morning.
“Come on, cutie. I have apple, grape, and cherry,” she says, leading Carson into my old condo toward the open concept kitchen.
Standing in place, I try to gesture Alex through, but he doesn’t move, and instead gives me a shit-eating grin. “What’s that look for?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, with a teasing inflection I don’t appreciate. “But I understand the Porsche now. She’s a pretty girl.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, answering the question he didn’t ask. “We’re just friends.”
Alex clasps his hand over my shoulder, patting me twice. “Sure you are.” He enters the condo, leaving me in the doorway.
Brothers.Of course Amani and I are just friends. Especially seeing the way her eyes just lit up when she saw Carson, it’s clear what she’s craving. A family. A child.
Two things I will never ever be able to offer.
* * *
“Amani?” I ask as I knock on the closet doorframe. “How are you doing in here?”
She’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of my old master closet, the setting sun shining through the bay window and highlighting the side of her face.
It’s bizarre to have a bay window inside of a closet, surely a design oversight, but at the time, Liv thought it was perfect. She didn’t like the idea of a new baby living down the hall. This oversized master closet was the perfect size for a mini nursery, and the bay window made it seem less like a little prison cell.
I exhale deeply, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it is to be back in this condo.
“Are you okay?” Amani asks, rising to her feet, abandoning the box she was unpacking.
“Yeah, why?”
She cocks her head to the side, studying me. “You seem lost in thought.”
Damn. I thought I had a better poker face. “I’m just thinking about how much has changed since I bought this place.”
I drop my gaze, enjoying the sight of her scrunching her bare toes into the plush gray closet carpet. For some reason, I’m quite satisfied she already seems to feel comfortable here.
“Such as?” Amani asks.
Looking a little to the left, I see where the seal of the baseboards is separating. I need to get that caulked again soon. “When I first bought this place, brand new, I used to stay up at night worrying about how I was going to pay my mortgage. It was a miracle the lender approved us. At the time, my wife didn’t work, and I was still a new talent agent at LMC Agency. But this place was everything we wanted, so we went ahead and bit off more than we could chew.”
Amani’s big green eyes freeze into owl-like circles. “You share this condo with your wife?”
“Shared. With my ex-wife,” I assure her. “I offered to sell it and split any profit with her when we broke up, but she wasn’t interested. She let me keep it.”
“That was awfully generous of her.”
Was it?Maybe it was the smarter choice. Liv didn’t want to be stuck with the memories that are surrounding me right now. The reason I should’ve sold this place a long time ago.
“I suppose,” I say, then purposely divert the conversation. “Hey, I don’t mean to go all nineteen-fifties traditional roles on you, but if you can stay here and keep an eye on the baby for a bit, Alex and I can strap your bed on top of his SUV, drive it over, and bring it up. We only have the big furniture left to move from your apartment.”
Amani gives me a cheeky smile. “Carson’s almost three and you still call him ‘the baby?’”
I let out a small laugh. “He’ll always be a baby to me, I guess.”
She nods. “I get it. I’m the same way with Noa’s son. Jonah is going on five, but I still see his baby face.” She cups her hands and holds them close together. “Teeny, tiny head with these big blue eyes that took up half of his face. He was so damn cute.”
She takes a little step closer and the sun catches the highlights of red hair strips twisting around her bun. The light dances across her full lips and when she catches me gawking, I yank my stare away.
“You’re going to be a good mom when the time comes,” I say, grasping for anything to distract from the fact that I was clearly falling into a trance staring at her.
Her sharp laugh punctures the tension between us. “None of my friends would agree with you.”
“Really? Why? You’ve barely spent two hours around Carson and he already favors you over his dad and uncle.”
She chuckles as she crosses her arms and touches her elbows, unwittingly pushing her breasts upward. She’s wearing a dark purple tank top, so nothing see-through today, but earlier this morning, I swear I could see the outline of her nipple jewelry.
“Did you put a bra on?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize your brother and nephew were coming,” she answers casually. “I didn’t want to be too revealing.”
“So you’re just revealing around me then?”
“I’m comfortable around you,” she clarifies before she smirks wickedly. “But if it bothers you, I’ll wear a bra moving forward. I just normally don’t bother around my friends.”
I fell right into that trap. “It doesn’t,” I mumble, then clear my throat. I continue clearly, “Anyway, why don’t your friends think you’re the mom type?”
“Because I’m Fun Aunt Amani. I’m good with kids in short bursts. But I’m hoping if I have my own baby, the important maternal stuff will come naturally.” Her eyes tilt downward and worry lines crease her forehead. One of her shoulders is locked in a shrug, and her face is twisted in apprehension. She looks so insecure. “Right? Or am I doomed?”
“My brother was not a baby guy. At all. Carson was a major surprise. But the moment he became a dad, not only did his life turn upside down, but he was thrilled about it. The guy who used to complain about babies on flights now wants a family the size of the Brady Bunch.” I smile at her sweetly, desperate to ease her trepidation. “If Alex can be a good dad, you sure as hell can be a good mom. Actually, solely based on how important this is to you, I think you’re going to be a phenomenal mom.”
There’s only one real key to being a good mom in my opinion. Don’t abandon your kids after a mental breakdown. It’s literally that simple. You don’t have to be domestic, buy expensive presents, or say the right things at the perfect times. Just don’t fucking leave.
I shift in place and unwittingly nudge a box lying by my feet.
“Whoops,” Amani says, whisking toward me to collect the luxurious white box with shiny gold foil embellishments. She lifts it, trying to place the box onto an overhead shelf beside me. “Don’t want this one getting damaged. It’s pricey,” she says, straining, not quite tall enough to secure the box in place.
The scant hint of her perfume is dredging up bad memories, especially here in this condo. Sure, Amani won’t wear a bra on moving day, but she’ll spritz herself. Once upon a time, it was my favorite smell in the world. I used to buy Liv Honeysuckle by Rainelle every other holiday. She wore it because I loved it. Now, I can’t stand the smell. Especially not on Amani. It’s becoming a confusing blur between past and present feelings.
She’s a mere inch from me, so close I can feel her body heat radiating as she rises to her tiptoes, still unable to accomplish her mission. Careful not to actually touch her, I reach above her fingers and push the box into place. “There we go,” I murmur.
She spins around and we’re chest to chest, a simple act of chivalry on my part turning incredibly intimate. This close, she has to tilt her chin up and lift her eyes to see my strained expression. “I have never misjudged someone so severely,” she says. “You’re actually nothing like ‘Smooth Talking Adam’ from Chase’s birthday party.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I reply. I mean to smile, but all of my focus is going into self-restraint at the moment. Despite the triggering scent she’s wearing, Amani is stirring up all kinds of feelings in me. At the present moment, mostly physical. And I’m too tempted to grab her by the hips and put my lips on hers, so I need her to be the one to step backward and put some more space between us. If I do so, I’m afraid it’ll hurt her feelings.
She doesn’t budge. If anything, she leans closer before dragging her top teeth over her full bottom lip. She smiles as she scours my face, seemingly proud of how obviously she’s affecting me.
Just friends, Adam.Friends who don’t kiss.
“It was definitely a compliment,” she whispers.
I know the look she’s giving me, and I don’t think our friendship will survive if I turn her down again. Ah, fuck it. I lean down, eyes still locked on hers. What’s one kiss, one time—
“Adam?” Alex bellows from the bedroom door, nearly stopping my heart. I basically leap out of my skin, retreating from Amani like I got caught with my pants down. “You in there?”
“Closet,” I call back.
There’s no mistaking the disappointment in Amani’s deep green eyes. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. With a foot of distance between us now, she looks small and unsure, wrapping her arms around herself and nervously rubbing her triceps. Alex finds us quickly, pausing at the open archway.
“What’s up?” I grumble as I turn to face him.
Alex holds his phone out and waves it in the air. “Piermont called. Dad’s having a good day. He wants to see us.”
“Another?” Holy shit. That’s two days now in a month. That’s a great sign, definitely progress in the right direction.
“Yeah, they said they tried you first.”
I pat myself down, feeling my empty pants pockets. Where’s my phone? Why aren’t I wearing my Apple watch? How could I miss a call like that? Damn Amani’s sexy, sassy self, distracting me all day.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say to Alex, then turn quickly to Amani. “I can help you move your bed tomorrow. My dad is ill in a way”—I tap my temple—“memory issues. And whenever he’s up to seeing us, we drop what we’re doing and go.”
“Oh my gosh,” she says. “Yes. Go. You’ve already helped more than enough. Both of you. Thank you. The bed isn’t mine anyway.”
“What?” I ask.
She pops her shoulders. “My apartment came with basic furniture. The big sofa, the coffee table, the dining table and chairs, none of that is mine.”
“So you don’t have a bed?”
Amani looks at the corner of her closet, eyeing a large canvas tote. “I have a blow-up mattress. That’ll work just fine until I have to move again.”
“You’re not going to buy a bed? You’re just going to live on an air mattress?”
She laughs off my concern in breathy huffs. “I’m not too prissy to sleep on an air mattress for a few months, Adam. It’s not like I’m staying here for long.”
I know I should be moving my feet now, making my way to Dad, but her response trips me up. I think I misunderstood this whole situation. Amani must not see my condo as a home…just a hotel. And now I’m wondering if I offered to help her to help her or to keep her here. Fuck, is it me? Am I the one blurring lines?
“I told you I’m not renting this place out anytime soon. You don’t need to rush.”
She squints at me like I’m confused and jostles her head in a subtle shake. “I can only afford a couple cycles of IVF, Adam. Whether or not it works, in a few months, I’m moving home.”
Alex gently clears his throat, reminding me he’s still standing there, listening to our conversation.
“Shit. We should go,” I say, speaking to Alex but keeping my eyes locked on Amani’s. “Piermont is an hour drive from here. We’re wasting precious time.”
“Wait,” Alex says, solemnly shaking his head. “It just dawned on me. Carson’s still napping in the guest room, but I don’t have a sitter. No way I can get one in time, and we can’t bring him. You go, Adam. I can help Amani unpack some things until Carson wakes up. Just tell Dad I’m doing well and I love him, okay?”
“I’ll watch him,” Amani chimes in before I can say a word. “You should see your dad.”
“Really?” Alex asks.
“Yeah, actually Carson’s age is my forte. I watched Noa’s son all the time when he was a toddler. You brought diapers and wipes, my iPad has YouTube Kids, I’ve got juice boxes in the fridge, and I’ll order in some chicken nuggets. We’ll be totally fine. Go. Both of you. As long as you need. It’s the least I can do after all your help.”
“Wow, I…” Alex starts but doesn’t finish his statement. Instead, he looks at me for approval. To him, she’s still a stranger. He needs to know if I trust Amani with his son.
“She can more than handle it,” I tell him, watching Amani’s eyes light up at my vote of confidence. “Amani, I’ll text you Alex’s number. Call us if you need anything, and we’ll come right back.”
She nods. “We’ll be fine.”
“Well, he already knows the word ‘fuck’ but try not to say any other cuss words around him, if you don’t mind? His mom is going to chew my ass to shreds when she comes back.”
She laughs. “Noted.”
Amani follows behind Alex and me as we exit the closet, walk through the master bathroom, then out of the bedroom and into the main living room. I forgot how big this condo is. It’s small in comparison to my current house, but for a starter home it wasn’t too bad.
“Here’s your phone, Adam,” Amani says, swiping it off the kitchen counter and holding it out to me. I wrap my hand around the phone and her hand, holding it for just a moment.
“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us. Every second we get with our dad these days is precious.”
“That makes sense. But I am curious, won’t your dad want to see his grandson?”
“He doesn’t know Carson exists,” Alex cuts in from the doorway. He’s collected his keys and wallet and is waiting patiently at the front door. “It’s easier that way.”
“I’ll explain later. Bye,” I say to Amani, right before I plant a kiss on her cheek.
Shit.
It was a knee-jerk reaction. A reflex from the past. It’s this damn condo that catapults me back to the past. It’s the same way I used to grab my phone, my keys, and the traveler’s mug of coffee my wife would pour me. Then I’d kiss her cheek goodbye. Goddammit. At least I stopped myself before I added, “I love you,” by accident.
Amani holds her cheek where I kissed it, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I don’t know what that was.”
She doesn’t address it, even though her palm is still pressed against her cheek. “Drive safe. I’ll text you when Carson wakes up.”
Alex and I are out of the building, walking side by side through the parking lot when I ask him, “Did you see me kiss Amani’s cheek?”
“Yep,” he says simply.
“Was it weird? A kiss on the cheek could be a thing between friends, right?”
He glances at me from his peripherals. “Adam, it was really fucking weird.”