Chapter 26
“You guys really know your stuff,” Ellis is saying as we sit around my dining table surrounded by the compact and wonder-filled boxes of Din Tai Fung.
He’s talking to the kids, who are expertly balancing their soup dumplings on their spoons, then biting off the tops before slurping out the soup in them.
“I’ve trained them well,” I say. We all have damp hair from the showers that I immediately made us take once we got home.
I started babbling to the kids nonstop while Ellis took his—trying not to imagine him naked in my shower, using my products and having them wash off in a sudsy glide down his body.
Jesus.
Suddenly, Mica pushes out of his chair. “Can I play a record please, Aunt Cassie?”
“Sure, baby,” I say. “Just wipe your hands before touching.”
He hastily wipes his hands on a napkin then rushes to my living room shelf of records. Mica loves my records. I’m sure they’re the most novel thing in the world to a kid growing up today. He’s flipping through them when Ellis looks at me. “You’re such a hipster.”
“Ugh, how offensive. I just used to date musicians a lot and the best thing to come out of that was my love of listening to music this way.”
“With intention and focus,” he says. “I get it. Sometimes I don’t even know the titles to songs I listen to all day.” Then he pauses. “You dated a lot of musicians, huh?” His eyebrow is cocked, challenging me.
Before I can answer, Mica finds something and places it on the record player. Slow and careful like we’ve practiced hundreds of times before. And then the first few notes of Pavement’s “Cut Your Hair” starts playing.
“Good choice,” I say as Mica comes back to the table, ignoring Ellis’s question.
“Did your dad introduce you to Pavement?” This is where Logan and I have shared interests—what Marcella disdainfully calls our love of sad-white-guy music.
Which she says is doubly shameful since neither of us is white.
“Yeah! This song is funny because the guy doesn’t want to cut his hair, like me!” Mica’s perfect curls haven’t been touched in years.
“Yeah, you and Stephen Malkmus are soulmates,” I say.
Ellis looks amused. “You get dumplings and an indie rock education at Cassia’s house? Luuuucky.”
Ozzie giggles. “We love Aunt Cassie’s house.”
At that Betty screeches. “Ooh can I feed her?” Ozzie begs.
“Sure, but after dinner. She knows she can’t just demand treats,” I say, which is punctuated by another vicious cry.
“You guys aren’t scared of Betty?” Ellis asks.
“No!” both kids cry out. Ellis widens his eyes in surprise, and they giggle.
“She’s nice to little ones,” I tell him. “She can sense her dominance.”
“Does that mean she actually accepts you as her alpha?” he asks me.
“Hardly. I’m her handmaiden.”
He laughs. “She’s a powerful bird.”
I remember her behavior with him when he was over. “And she likes you, too. Literally the only human beings she tolerates are all in this room right now.”
After we’re done, the kids run into the living room to play with Betty while Ellis and I clean up the kitchen together. The sounds of the kids’ squeals and laughter are a welcome backdrop so that standing side by side with Ellis at the kitchen sink doesn’t feel too awkward.
The everydayness of this moment suddenly hits me in the chest. The possibility of it. A family eating dumplings, a mom sharing her favorite music with her son. The kids running around while Mom and Dad do the dishes in comfortable, companionable silence.
This is what I want. A family. Not out of obligation to my family business, but because I want to build a world around a child—make it as magical and wonderful for them as my mother made life for me.
The realization shakes me, and I switch my focus to Ellis. I watch as he makes neat piles for recycling, rinsing out containers before placing them in a paper bag. He turns off the faucet between washes and uses only a trickle of water.
“Environmentalism runs deep in you, it does,” I say in a bad attempt at Yoda’s voice.
He looks startled for a second then starts laughing. “Oh, that’s so bad.”
“I know. Erase it from your memory.” My face feels hot and I’m truly shocked at such a dorky fumble in front of a guy. This is the uncool side of me I usually save for Mar. I blame it on my sudden family epiphany.
But he won’t let it go. “Forget it, I won’t,” he says in an excellent Yoda voice.
“I hate you.” I flick water at him from the sink, but he dodges it artfully. “Look, I’m wasting water. Arrest me.”
“That is so…mature,” he says. “And listen, I have no choice but to save water. My retirement is going to be spent in line for water rations.”
“Bleak.”
“Yeah. I’m really going to miss trees.”
I lean against the counter, drying my hands off with a kitchen towel. “You really believe that, though? No trees in your lifetime?”
He shrugs. “I mean, no. We’ll probably have trees for a while. But it’s part of the appeal of my job, you know? Creating landscapes that are equipped for whatever the future may hold. It’s hopeful.”
Something softens in me, and he must see it in my face because he looks at me intensely before clearing his throat and turning away.
It’s like being doused with water. I’m going on a date with Daniel tomorrow.
The kids want to show Ellis the tricks they’ve taught Betty, so he sticks around for a little longer and I feel myself fidgeting with restlessness.
He’s so good with them, so fully present and into whatever funny things they are sharing with him.
I try not to read too much into it—it’s easy for twentysomething men to be good with kids.
There are no stakes, they are here to be fun for a couple hours, then they can seamlessly go back to their regular lives of sleeping in and leisurely dinners.
Wow, okay, really convincing yourself there, Cass. But I do have to remind myself of reality. Just because I am having big baby family feelings today doesn’t mean that Ellis is the solution for it.
It’s hard for me to cut it short, but I have to. If only because Mica really needs to get some rest.
“Last Betty trick,” I say once they show her hanging upside down from Mica’s index finger.
They groan and Ellis says, “It’s getting late. I need to get my beauty sleep.”
Mica giggles. “Boys don’t need beauty sleep.”
“Pardon me?” Ellis says, playing affronted. “You think I just wake up this way?”
The kids are still laughing when he gets up to leave. He gives Mica a high five and spins Ozzie in the air before he steps out. I tell the kids to go brush their teeth while I step outside with him.
It’s cold out, and I rub my arms for warmth. The porch light flickers overhead. “Thanks so much, again. Really.”
“Hey, what did I say? No more thank-yous.” Again, that little edge to his voice.
I refuse to keep making bad decisions so I say, “I have to tell you something.” It comes out urgent and he instantly steps back.
“Okay.” He crosses his arms.
“This is…I really don’t know how to say this without it being kind of shitty.” I run my hands through my hair, long and tangled. Then I look him in the eyes, because he deserves that. “I’m going to have dinner with Daniel tomorrow night.”
He looks confused for a second. “Daniel?” Then it registers. “Daniel…my boss.”
I nod and tense up all over. I don’t know what I’m expecting but my body is bracing itself for it.
Ellis just stares down at the ground between us, then takes a deep breath. “Okay. Wow.” His voice is even, not revealing a single thing.
I want to give him more space to digest but instead I keep talking. “I’m sorry. He came to one of our matchmaking events and well, we ended up talking. So…”
“I should go.” He won’t even look at me as he turns and heads down the stairs.
And before I can help it, I say, “I’m so sorry, Ellis.”
He doesn’t say anything as he walks away.
That night, as I’m in bed, tossing and turning, I realize that I drove him to my house. He probably had to take an Uber home. I don’t know why, but this is the thing that gets to me most, and I stay up for another couple hours feeling like a piece of shit.