12. Hendrix
HENDRIX
My house. Poker. Seven tonight.
It’s been a shit day.
Not sure I’m in the mood for a bachelor party.
It’s us and Maverick and Jamie. Finn’s working.
I wouldn’t call that a party, asshole.
I don’t know.
I have a dead wife, a toddler, moved home, and live next to my sisters.
Suck it the fuck up and get your ass to my house.
Playing the dead wife card isn’t cool.
But did it work?
Dick.
—Text from Hendrix to Ryker
“Hey, bud.” I shift Bodhi from my hip to the counter and drop the grocery bag next to him.
Some nights, he’s desperate for a nap after a day with Grace.
Others, he’s bouncing off the walls. Tonight seems to be falling somewhere in-between.
My kid is mellow. “Do you want scrambled eggs or waffles for dinner tonight?”
He scrunches his nose, looking so much like his mother, I can’t help but laugh. She was never a breakfast girl. Coffee and chaos. That was Britt.
He clutches his stuffed dinosaur to his side, and I make a mental note to maybe buy a backup. Rex has seen better days, and I don’t want to see what it looks like if this thing disintegrates before his eyes. “That’s breakfast, Daddy. Not dinner.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. But I’ve got the good syrup.
” Okay, sue me. Bribery is basically the only form of currency that works on an almost three-year-old.
At least on mine. “Come on. Waffles and sausage with strawberries?” I ask, holding up the berries I grabbed from the market on the way home from practice earlier. “I think we even have whipped cream.”
Dinner of champions?
Maybe not so much. But protein, fruit, and sugar should count for something, right?
He sighs a great big sigh and smooshes my face between his already sticky hands.
What the hell has this kid been eating?
“It’s okay, Daddy. Aunt Gracie says you’re doing your best.”
Fuck.
Just what every father wants to hear from his kid.
I scoop him up and drop him down on his feet. “You want to help me make the waffles?”
“Nope.” There goes that nose scrunch again.
It’s going to be a long night.
Two Goodnight Moons and one If You Give A Mouse a Cookie later, and it’s barely eight o’clock.
Bodhi’s finally tucked into his race-car bed under his Lightning McQueen blanket, sound asleep, which gives me just enough time to make the call I’ve been dreading all day before the guys show up for what we’re calling Ryker’s bachelor party tonight.
With my iPad and the monitor in hand, I move outside and settle on the couch.
Less than a minute later, Melissa’s face is filling the screen. “Hendrix . . .” She glances past me, most likely searching for Bodhi. But there’s a reason I chose to wait until after he was sleeping to call.
“Hey, Mel. How are you?” Britt’s mom has always been around. She grew up and raised Britt right outside of Kroydon Hills. And when Britt followed me to Chicago to work as my assistant, Mel followed too.
She’s not a bad person. She’s just a bit . . . much.
“I’d be better if Bodhi was with you. I miss his sweet face, Hendrix. Where is he?”
A wave of unwanted guilt hits. “He’s in bed. We’re an hour ahead, remember?”
“Right.” Her shoulders slump as she deflates. “I don’t know how I keep forgetting. How is he?”
“He’s good, Mel.” I fight the urge to say he’s exactly the same as he was when she FaceTimed with him a few days ago.
I get this is hard for her. But the guilt trips aren’t helping.
“I miss you both,” she sighs. “I was thinking about coming in October.”
She’s been offering to come and help since the day we moved in.
And I still can’t believe I’m going to take her up on it.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Mel.” Here goes nothing. “You know I need a nanny, right?”
“I thought your sister was helping.” Confusion and maybe a little hope sparks in her eyes.
“She is, and her nanny has been incredibly kind, but neither is a permanent fix. Grace has five kids and a husband with the exact same travel schedule I have. It’s not fair to her. I need to do better for Bodhi. And I was thinking—”
“Yes,” she answers before I ask.
“Mel . . .”
“I can’t stand being so far away from you both, Hendrix.
You two are all I have left of Brittany.
” She flicks a tear from her eyes. “Don’t make me watch my grandson grow up through a screen.
Please,” she pleads. “Let me take care of him when you can’t.
I can get my own place. You don’t have to pay me. I have my pension.”
The back door opens, and Ryker steps outside before he sees the iPad and points inside, where Jamie and Maverick stand in my kitchen. I nod as he lets himself back in. “Sorry, Mel. I absolutely have to pay you. This is a job, and I don’t expect you to work for free.”
“It’s not work, Hendrix. You’d be letting me spend time with Bodhi.”
“Salary is nonnegotiable, Mel. I can help you find a place too. And you can stay here while you’re looking—”
“Perfect,” she interrupts before I have a chance to talk about boundaries.
Britt and Melissa didn’t really have any.
I’m not built that way.
Even my siblings and I have boundaries, hard as that may be for some to believe.
Jamie knocks on the glass door, lifts his shirt, and smashes his chest against the glass like a stripper, swinging his hips and giving a shower dance.
My friends are fucking idiots.
But they’re my fucking idiots.
“When do you want me to come?” Mel’s voice vibrates with excitement, pulling me back into the conversation and away from stripper Jamie.
“Take whatever time you need getting everything together. Gracie said she’s happy to help as long as she can.” Basically, my sister is a saint, but I already feel like I’m taking advantage of her.
Mel’s chest shakes as she wipes her eyes. “Thank you, Hendrix. Losing Britt was heartbreaking, but to lose Bodhi and you too . . .”
“You haven’t lost us. We’re right here, and I meant it when I promised I’d never keep him from you.” Fucking hell. Jamie just licked a line down my door. “Listen, Mel, can we talk about this more later? I’ve got something I have to take care of.”
“Of course.” Her teary smile wobbles. “Kiss Bodhi for me.”
Oh . . . there’s fucking gyrating now.
Fuck me.
“Absolutely. We’ll talk soon.” I end the call, close the iPad, and fight the urge to throw it at someone.
Did I just solve a problem or create one?
“So, are you ready to admit you’re in love with your fiancée?” I ask Ryker later that night after Jamie and Maverick get up to grab another round of beers. “Delaney’s pretty great, man. Definitely too good for your ugly ass.”
“She’s pretty fucking amazing,” he agrees. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting her, that’s for sure.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I tell him, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen him this happy. And that’s with all the shit he’s currently dealing with. “Does she make you happy?”
“Yeah, she does. It’s weird. I just always want to be around her.
It’s like she makes everything better just by being there.
” He sits back in his chair and kicks his feet out as he looks at me.
“Is that how it was with you and Britt? I mean, one minute I could have sworn something was going on with Serena and you, and the next—bam—you were marrying Britt.”
“Britt and I were different,” I admit.
“She was a good girl, man. We all miss her.”
“Yeah,” I groan. “Me too.”
“Listen, you can tell me to fuck off, and I won’t say another word, but you’ve been my best friend my whole life, so I feel like I have to say something.”
I wait, not sure what he’s about to say.
“It’s been over two years, Hendrix. No one is going to judge you if you move on. I didn’t know her very well, but I doubt Britt would have wanted you to be alone for the rest of your life.”
Knowing he’s right and doing something about it are two very different things.
Lucky for me, Mav and Jamie walk back into the room with another round of beers and the pizzas we ordered stacked between them. “All right.” Jamie grins as he hands out the beers. “Who’s ready to lose their money?”
I’m not sure what makes me open the box of letters tonight.
Maybe it’s because when I told the guys I was marrying Britt, they somehow managed to coordinate schedules with my brothers and fly out to Chicago for my own version of a bachelor party, consisting of poker, beer, and Chicago deep-dish pizza.
I love Kroydon Hills, but compared to Chicago, the pizza blows.
Who am I fucking with?
It’s not the nostalgia that has me pulling out the next letter.
It’s guilt.
Guilt because I didn’t need Ryker to tell me to move on. I already knew I was ready.
Hell, I already know my next move. But the guilt is still there, eating me alive.
Because moving on means telling the truth.
And telling the truth is going to hurt everyone.
I pull out the next card, this one marked with a blue number two in the corner, and lean back on the couch.
Hendrix,
Okay, if you’ve made it this far, you must have moved home.
Are your brothers and sisters driving you crazy yet?
I’m sure they are. Did I ever tell you the first time I watched the five of you together, I cried?
The relationships you all have is beautiful.
It’s what I always wanted growing up. It’s what I want for Bodhi too.
Now don’t say fuck no just yet.
You said it, right?
Side note – try to watch how much you curse in front of Bodhi. I’d like his first words not to be curse words. And depending on when you move home, between you and your siblings, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a stretch.
Anyway, back to the important stuff. Namely, our son.
Don’t make him grow up alone, Hendrix. Don’t use me as an excuse not to date or not to get married again. Don’t deny him the love of a mother and a father. She won’t be me, but I know you, you’re a good man, and you’ll marry a woman who will love my son like he’s hers, or you won’t marry her.
Don’t curse me out. You know I’m right.
And when you do marry her, have more babies.
Fill up a house. Make Bodhi the oldest of a million kids.
Well, not a million. Give that future wife a break every now and then because pregnancy is hell.
But have babies. Lots of them. Teach Bodhi to be as protective of his siblings as Everly and Gracie are of you.
Make sure he teases them the way Leo does and covers for them the way Nixon does.
What do you always say? Nobody knows you like your siblings.
The Sinclairs against the world, right?
Give that to Bodhi.
Promise me, Hendrix.
And don’t think I won’t be watching to make sure you do as I say. I’ll be just as bossy from beyond the grave. I’ll be there when you need me, watching and helping in any way I can.
Kiss my baby for me.
XOXO,
Britt
Fucking hell, Brittany.