Chapter Twelve #2
“Then can’t we just drop this? Don’t you want Skye to grow up with that kind of love?”
Theresa tilted her head, pity mixing with the sadness in her smile.
“Love isn’t enough, Brooks. Adriana is young.
Even if love lasts and you make the relationship work, how do you think Skye will feel when Adriana wants to have babies of her own?
When all that love gets redirected to her own children?
What about you? Do you want to change diapers in your fifties?
Can you still indulge all of Skye’s whims when you’re exhausted from a teething baby keeping you up three nights in a row? ”
I balled my hands into fists, hanging on to every shred of dignity I had, so I wouldn’t yell at this woman. “It’s not whims, and I don’t indulge her. I simply don’t berate her for experiencing and expressing things differently than the rest of the world.”
“She’s not colorblind, she has autism.”
“She’s autistic,” I corrected.
“That’s what I just said.”
No, it wasn’t. Skye didn’t have autism. I didn’t have autism. It wasn’t a common cold that you might or might not have. We were autistic. All day, every day, for the rest of our lives.
“Theresa, sweetheart?” Lewis called from the coffee cart. “Skye wants to show us something called an Evie Hat in her room before we go to dinner.”
“One second,” she called back before turning to me. “Think about it. Adriana isn’t old enough to have a twelve-year-old daughter. How is Skye going to handle losing another mother when Adriana realizes that you’re too old for her?”
· Adriana ·
“I’ve got something for you. Dad said I could order you one.” Skye paraded out of her room, holding up a blanket hoodie like the one she had thrown on the second we’d gotten back to the hotel room. “It’s green! You love green!”
“I do. Oh my goodness, it’s perfect.” I smiled and held out my grabby hands for it.
She proudly handed me the thing. It was huge and thick and soft, and I would probably die of heat stroke, but I didn’t even care.
She was beaming like the sun itself, and I wouldn’t take that away from her. So I slipped into it.
It really was like a potato sack, a fleece blanket, and a hoodie had done the deed and somehow created this offspring.
It swallowed me from chin to knee. My hands only poked out because it had elastic around the wrists that kept the sleeves from falling down.
I could see myself spending my entire winter break wearing nothing but this.
“Thank you so much, Skye.”
“The belly pocket is really big.” She demonstratively shoved her hand into her hoodie and pulled out her tablet and a pack of gummy bears.
“Perfect. I love a big bag.” I rummaged through my tote and stowed my phone and headphones in my hoodie’s pocket.
More to go along with her than anything else.
It was my first time alone with Skye. While her dad and grandparents were talking about things not meant for children’s ears, I got to have some babysitting fun.
“Okay, have you decided what movie you want to watch?”
Before she could answer, a small explosion ruptured the air outside. The sound was followed by rich pink light that painted the entire living room for a few seconds.
Skye’s entire body convulsed as if the fireworks had hit her. “What was that?”
“It’s part of the harvest festival. There’s a fireworks show every night. Do you want to go see it?”
“I don’t like firew—” She was cut off by another bang going off outside, then bright blue lights, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Loud.”
The next ones all fired one after another. Her small frame jerked with every sparking explosion. Shit. Not only was it loud and bright, it was unexpected and didn’t follow a clear pattern. That had to be torture. Had no one told Brooks about the fireworks?
“Go grab your headphones, or earplugs. I’ll cover the windows.”
Skye’s hands flew over her ears as she beelined for her room.
I scrambled to find the control for the window blinds.
I managed to shut them—but they were those thin shitty hotel blinds.
The light still flashed through around the sides; they were also more modesty than blackout covers, the colors of the fireworks shading the blinds from the outside.
Okay. Maybe this was just the living-room situation.
Surely, the bedrooms had to have better covers.
I dashed to Skye’s room. Instead of a girl with headphones, I found a mountain of a blanket on the bed, rocking back and forth. Goddammit. One thing at a time. I fumbled with the controls for the blinds on her windows—and it was the same flimsy cream-colored bullshit.
“What cheap fuck chose those? For the suite?” I wheezed. I made a mental note to mention this fuckery to Renee.
Not a priority right now, Adriana.
Skye started making an odd sound. It wasn’t a scream, and she wasn’t crying. It was just a prolonged deep “aaah” and the note swung with her body as she rocked back and forth under her blanket. She was trying to drown out the explosions, I realized.
Those stupid fucking fireworks would go for fifteen minutes, and Skye had barely made it through two, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t make them stop the fireworks. I couldn’t soundproof this place.
I turned in a circle, trying to come up with a solution, when my eyes caught on the tiled floor of the en suite. Well…if bathroom acoustics were good enough for Baby Adriana to record herself singing, they would have to be good enough for this.
“Okay, okay, come on, honey.” I put an arm around the blanket ghost and gently nudged her off the bed. “Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”
I maneuvered her into the bathroom, then grabbed the rest of the bedding and followed after.
“Get in the tub,” I said. I didn’t think it mattered much for acoustics, but enclosed spaces were supposed to be calming, right?
Skye did what I said without much protest, pulling the blanket off her head and nestling into the tub. She propped her iPad up in her lap and covered her headphones with both hands, pressing them tightly against her ears. At least she’d stopped making that distressed sound.
I grabbed the toothbrush from the sink and used the backend to shove the bedsheet into the gap between door and frame. Inch by inch, I worked around the entire frame, until the door was fully covered. Then I bundled the pillows up against the foot of the door, filling the bigger gap there.
When I was done, I wasn’t sure if I was a soundproofing pro or if I’d doctored around long enough for the fireworks to be over. But at least it was quiet in the bathroom.
“Can I come in?” I asked, pointing at the other end of the tub. Skye looked up at my outstretched finger, then down at her iPad without verbally acknowledging the question, but her feet inched back a little. Just enough for me to understand that she was making space for me.
I climbed into the tub and sat down at the opposite end. With my knees drawn up, I could fit my legs into the massive blanket hoodie. Between that, her own hoodie, and her blanket, the tub was a cozy nest.
I pulled my own headphones from the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie alongside my phone and nestled in.
I felt her eyes on me as she assessed the situation.
Instead of acknowledging it though, I just queued up the next episode of some sitcom I’d been rewatching, put my headphones on, and balanced the phone on the side of the tub.
I grabbed one of the towels from the hanger on the wall and used that as a pillow as I settled in.
When the episode was over, Skye’s foot nudged against mine. I glanced up to see her removing her headphones, so I pulled mine down as well.
Instead of looking at me, she turned in the tub to face my phone screen as well. So I switched my headphones off and let the next episode play on normal volume.
Skye’s small fingers curled around the hem of my blanket hoodie, running the ribbed edge back and forth through thumb and index finger. With each passing minute her body tilted more and more against mine, until she was practically curled against my side, hands nibbling at my hoodie.
A muffled knock at the door pulled us from our quiet comfort three more episodes down the line.
“Hi,” Brooks whispered as he poked his head through the door. The blanket fell from the doorframe to the pile of pillows on the ground. His dark eyes raked over our awkward position and the DIY soundproofing.
Skye didn’t look at him. She just lifted one hand in a short little wave, too entranced by the show.
On which they just made a dick joke.
Fuck. Me.
I grimaced and glanced up at Brooks. “I hope this is okay,” I whispered.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he whispered back.
He kicked his shoes off and slipped into the far end of the tub that Skye had deserted.
Skye let out a grunt of disapproval but only lifted her legs enough for them to drape over her father’s knees.
She was partially on me, partially squeezed against the side of the tub, and partially on Brooks.
There was no way that was comfortable. Judging by the way she didn’t move and remained focused on the tiny screen though, it couldn’t be too bad either.
I bit my lip and drew my eyes from her awkward form to Brooks. His eyes were already on me. I cocked my head as if to ask what?
He just lifted his shoulders in a soft shrug and offered me a small smile. His hand slid along the side of the tub to where mine was resting. His long fingers wrapped around mine. I swallowed.
This was too much. It was too soft. It was too wholesome.
I shouldn’t have encouraged this kind of domesticity. Not when my body was newly betraying me around him, and I had to keep my head on straight for the sake of the little girl between us.