Chapter 25 Nisha
twenty-five
nisha
Hollywood Heartthrobs In Frilly Aprons
Pearl giggles as Bob sniffs her from head to toe, her little hand jutting out to pet his ears. “He’s so big, Aunt Nisha,” she signs. “And his ears are so long.”
I smile from my place behind the kitchen island, where I have several tomatoes and an onion laying on a cutting board. I had intended to slice them, but I’m too engrossed in watching Pearl and Rome interact with Bob.
It’s not the first time they’ve met, but Bob’s theatrics never fail to entertain them.
“Where’s his toy?” Rome speaks while he signs for Pearl’s benefit before crouching down to scratch Bob’s chin. “You know, the mini baseball bat that looks like Darth Vader?”
I roll my lips together. Clearly, my nine-year-old nephew has come up with his own definition of my vibrator since no one has explained to him what it really is.
We’ve all just stuck with calling it “Bob’s special toy”.
And really, from some angles, it does look like a talking baseball bat stuck on repeat.
I’m just about to answer when we hear a muffled mechanical voice from somewhere between my couch cushions. “I’m your father. I’m your father.”
Bob, who was melting into the affection from the kids—his hind leg twitching with happiness—immediately perks up at the sound and hobbles over to the couch. Bob must have buried his toy there this morning while Patton and I were “preoccupied”.
What? It was the only time we knew we’d get for a while since the kids were due to arrive an hour later to spend the weekend with us while Troy and Sarina were in Mexico.
Speaking of, I can’t wait to catch up with my sister to find out how she liked the venue. They’re doing a small wedding with just their closest family and friends, but no matter the size, planning a wedding is stressful.
Needless to say, we’re all looking forward to being a part of their big day. And now, it seems I, Sarina’s maid of honor, will have a date to take to it.
Bob emerges with my dildo clutched between his jowls before parading it around the living room like a show pony. I’m just glad he’s obsessed with the dildo instead of my houseplants. I still have PTSD from watching him “water” my Thai Constellation Monstera that first time.
But I will reluctantly admit, the beast has grown on me.
Whether he’s sensing the baby or because we’ve grown closer over the last few weeks, he’s been even more attentive, shoving his head under my palm until I give in, or keeping his eyes glued on me from across the room like one of those creepy illusion paintings.
Plus, he’s a complete goofball with antics that rival a Victorian damsel. Just the sight of a butterfly can send him into a dramatic floor flop as if he’s been shot. Let’s just say, it makes our evening walks very entertaining.
Pearl laughs again, her long red hair swinging around her waist. She’s almost five but tall for her age, with the same shade of hazel eyes as her famous baseball player dad.
For three years, Troy raised Pearl as a single dad while being the star pitcher for the Blazers. It’s no small feat with a deaf daughter who needed special attention and communication, especially when he was often on the road.
But after his elbow injury sidelined him a little over a year and a half ago, something changed. I think taking care of Pearl at home made him realize what he’d been missing. And though he’d returned for another season post-recovery, his heart wasn’t with baseball anymore.
It didn’t hurt that he’d also fallen hard for my sister—who’d been divorced from her douchey ex-husband for years—and seamlessly stepped into a father role for Rome, too.
Now, they’re the epitome of a perfect blended family with Rome learning baseball from one of the best in the league while Pearl communicates effortlessly with Sarina.
Our mother was deaf, so both my sister and I learned sign language almost before we could speak.
But what’s been incredible to watch is how quickly Rome has picked up ASL, determined to speak to his little sister in her own language.
They’re inseparable, as if they’ve been siblings their whole lives.
I run a hand over my still-flat stomach. As much as I love their bond, I secretly hope my sister and Troy decide to have a baby so my little one has someone closer to her age.
And yes, her, because I’m fairly positive I’m going to have a girl. I may not have evidence to back up my claim since it’ll be weeks before I get that ultrasound, but call it mother’s intuition.
What surprised me was Patton’s genuine excitement about the possibility. In fact, he’d grinned as we lay tangled in my sheets this morning and I mentioned it, as if he was already preparing to be wrapped around her pinky finger.
I’d been nestled against him, my bare back to his chest, as we both tried to catch our breaths. He’d tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear before kissing the shell of it, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps tingling down my arms.
“You take my breath away, Little Borealis.”
“Careful there, Mr. Pierce,” I’d teased, brushing my lips against the back of his hand. “Keep saying things like that when I’m a sweaty mess and I might never shower again.”
“And you think I’d object to that?”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
“Always, when it comes to you.”
I’d pressed my cheek against our intertwined fingers, feeling the metal from our matching bracelets against my skin.
I still couldn’t believe that after all these years, neither of us thought to take it off.
I guess we both knew, regardless if we’d ever be in each other’s lives again, our friendship wasn’t something we ever wanted to forget.
My heart swelled at having him back in my life—a man I’d never stopped thinking about, never stopped loving, even when I’d only recently started admitting it to myself.
But admitting it to him was different.
We’d thrown those words around when we were young and thought love was the only ingredient to conquering everything. But now I know better.
While love was an essential ingredient we had plenty of, reliability and follow-through were the two others I wanted to see more of. Because when I finally told him I loved him this time around, I wanted to make sure I’d never have to compete with Hollywood for his attention.
“What do you think we should name her?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around us.
I could feel his smile against my neck. “Her, huh? You seem sure about that.”
I turned in his arms, looking up at him. “You don’t want a girl?”
“Baby, I will take whatever you give me.” His hand lowered to my stomach. “But if she’s anything like you, then I hope she has your eyes and your stubborn streak.”
“That’s what you want our daughter to inherit from me? My stubbornness?”
“Yep. Otherwise, how else would I know the sheer joy of having two women in my life who always think they’re right?”
I poked him in his stomach for his sarcasm, pretending to be annoyed before he swallowed my giggles with his kiss.
The sliding door whooshes open, bringing in the scent of grilled meat and pulling me out of the reverie. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten lost in my thoughts while the kids dissolved into giggles, chasing Bob around the living room.
I turn to find my devastatingly handsome ex-husband filling up the doorway, holding a pair of tongs in his hand, his hair a little windswept and his eyes crinkling around the corners. His gaze sweeps from the kids and Bob, turning warm when it finds me.
I can’t even help the chuckle that escapes my lips as my eyes scroll down his form, magazine-cover worthy, if magazines featured Hollywood heartthrobs in frilly aprons that barely touched their muscular thighs.
The plaid apron has “My Aunt is a Baddie” written in glittery cursive. Pearl’s sheer pink fairy wings can be seen sprouting from his shoulders, while her sparkling plastic tiara sits atop his dark hair and one sparkling earring hangs off his left ear.
Honestly, this picture of Patton, domestic and so fucking adorable, on a magazine cover would send the world into a tizzy.
He looks absolutely ridiculous, and yet, I’ve never wanted him more. The way he patiently sat there while the kids poked and prodded him, getting him ready for our barbecue? God . . .
I know some of this is likely from the pregnancy hormones, but watching him get fake blush and eye shadow smeared on by my niece literally made me want to take him to my bedroom and ask him to knock me up again.
It isn’t the first time the kids have hung out with Patton, having seen him practicing pitches with Troy at the old stadium nearby for Patton’s upcoming film. And though they’re still getting to know him, they definitely got comfortable with him today.
“How are those burgers coming along?” I ask, pursing my lips when I see the pretend stern look on his face.
He acts like he’s exasperated wearing the costume, but he’s not fooling anyone.
I know he secretly loves that this gives him a chance to rebuild connections with a nephew whose life he missed out on, a nephew I kept him from getting to know, if I’m being honest. And Pearl, who has become family through Troy.
It’s a guilt I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for, but looking at him now, seeing the way the kids just accept him as their own, I wonder if he’s already claiming the space his absence left behind.
He straightens his skewed tiara, walking inside and putting the tongs down on the counter.
“They’ve got a few minutes to go.” He gently wiggles the serrated knife from my hand, placing it on the cutting board before cradling my face.
“How about I get you some sparkling water and you go put your legs up on the couch? I can take over here. Once the burgers are done, we’ll head out to the yard. ”
“There’s macaroni baking in the oven, too.”
“I can get it out once it’s done.” He leans over to look inside the oven. “Jesus, sweetheart, you planning to feed an army?”