Chapter 11 Bash #2
I should’ve known. When Remy searched underneath the bed in the guest room for her silver pendant, it should’ve all added up.
When she stood in the doorway and asked me if that was it, I should’ve ignored the blood pumping around my body and realized the truth.
But my heart chose that moment to take control of the reins, and I didn’t fight it.
“You want me to feel bad because I met her first?” Cash furrows his brow and finally looks at me.
“You want me to feel bad because I didn’t know?” I shake my head. “You think that she’ll choose you because you were first? Technically, she thought that you were me. She came to see me today. She came to tell me that I’m going to be a father.”
“Ha!” Cash snorts. “Now you want to accept responsibility.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A few hours ago, you accused her of scamming us on her ex’s behalf.”
Not my finest moment, but I’m too angry to admit it right now. “I didn’t see you go down on one knee and propose to her.”
“I was in shock. I didn’t get a fucking chance to propose. She’d already fled the building like you called the cops on her.”
“So, that’s it.” I’m rapidly running out of steam because he’s right. I’m the reason that Remy Jones ran away. Me and my fucking fear of walking into a trap. “You’re going to propose to her.”
He hesitates. He’s staring straight at me, but I’m not what he sees. Then, “Yes. I’ll propose to her.”
The ringing in my ears reaches a crescendo. I’m numb. Sliced open and hollowed out. If Cash marries Remy…
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” Cash repeats.
“Okay.” Mom sighs heavily. “I hate to point out the obvious here, but this isn’t about you two.”
We both face her and wait for her to elaborate.
“Have either of you considered that girl’s feelings?” When we remain silent, she continues, “I thought as much. She might not want to marry either of you. And watching this behavior right now, I can’t say that I’d blame her.”
I sense Terry smiling in the background.
“Did it occur to you that she might be scared? Her whole life has been turned upside down. So, while you’re fighting over who came first, and who gets to plan a fucking wedding, she’s coming to terms with having two children in her life. The last thing she needs is two men squabbling over her.”
“We’re not squabbling. Cash is right. He should propose to her.”
“Jesus fucking wept.” Mom glances behind her at Terry. “Am I not speaking plainly enough?”
Terry shrugs. “I hear you, sweetheart.”
She takes a deep breath and faces us across the counter again. “Bash, this isn’t about you or what you want. Cash, this isn’t about you either. You think the situation isn’t ideal, but I promise you it’s a fucking catastrophic implosion for Remy Jones.”
“What should we do, Mom?” I ask, sounding even more like a little kid.
She leans closer and covers my hand with hers.
“You find out what she wants. That’s it.
If she wants money, you give it to her. You go out there, and you make her life as fucking comfortable as possible, even if it means buying her a brownstone on the Upper West Side and filling it with baby paraphernalia.
You offer to attend prenatal classes with her.
You make it your life’s mission to understand childbirth so that you can be there for her holding her hand.
And you don’t, under any circumstances, make her feel as if any of it is her fault. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mom,” Cash and I say in unison.
“But what if—” I begin.
“I don’t want to hear what ifs. You let that girl figure out what she wants, and you don’t do a fucking thing to influence her, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.” Cash gets up, walks around the breakfast bar, and hugs her.
Just then, a child’s voice grows louder, and my sister-in-law Victoria comes in from the poolside decking with her little girl, Holly. The child is still wearing inflatable armbands and a bathing suit with a picture of Minnie Mouse on the front.
“Swim, Papa.” She raises both arms to Terry, who scoops her up and settles her on his hip.
“Do you want me to come and watch?” Terry asks.
“Yes.” Holly peers around the room and buries her face against Terry’s chest when she spots me and Cash.
It’s the suits. Or perhaps she doesn’t understand why we look the same.
I realize with a jolt that I haven’t taken the time to find out.
Sure, I spend the holidays with my family, and my niece and nephews are often here visiting Mom and Terry.
But Cash and I are the strange uncles. Cash is the goofy one who pulls funny faces and teaches them how to make silly sounds, while I’m the one who builds towers out of plastic blocks for them to knock down.
“Hey, Holly.” Cash goes to her and tickles her side. She scrunches up her little body in Terry’s arms to escape. “Can I watch you swim?”
She glances at him from behind golden curls, then her eyes seek me out. “No.”
Cash rolls out his bottom lip and feigns hurt. “How about if I close my eyes? Can I watch you swim then?”
He’s a natural father. He’ll make a great dad someday, and the ache in my chest blossoms into something I don’t have a name for right now.
How will I feel if Remy chooses my brother over me?
I know Mom said that this is all about what Remy wants, and she’s right.
I’ve already got a fuck-ton of apologizing to do, and no guarantee that she’ll forgive me.
But I saw the hurt in her eyes. You don’t get that without having feelings for someone, and I need to face up to the very real possibility that she might be in love with my brother.
What do I do then?
Do I pretend that I’m happy for them and flick a switch inside?
Or do I tell her how I feel and make the situation even more complicated than it already is?
I guess it all depends on Remy Jones.