Chapter 13 #2
Cassandra and I are left standing across the apartment from each other. I tuck my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m sorry for ruining your date.”
Liv would hate it if she heard it called a date. And though I wouldn’t mind if it was after spending time with her tonight, I should be somewhat professional. “We work together.”
Glancing down toward the hall and then to me, she says, “Do you have kids?”
First time I’ve been asked that. Welcome to adulthood, I suppose. “No.”
“Kids are great, especially Maxwell.”
“Yeah,” I reply, making casual conversation.
“Liv’s a great mom, too. Tonight was the first time she’s been out in forever. I hate that I caused it to be cut short.”
Although I’m not opposed to the idea, it wasn’t a date. But for some reason, Cassandra seems pretty convinced it was. Now I’m wondering how that conversation played out.
She continues, “She likes to be home in time for the routines—dinner, bath, book, and putting him to bed. It’s so sweet.
I know she wishes she could be with him during the day.
She’s so dedicated to giving him the best life she can.
I’m sure you see how hard she works since you’re also in the office. ”
I thought she was falling back on Bancroft money. That she’s working to earn it herself comes as a surprise. I look around the apartment again, seeing it in a new light this time. Does she pay for this herself?
Without using a trust fund to help buy my apartment, I wouldn’t have it. Now I’m curious about Liv’s situation, but it’s not my place to talk to her about her finances. “We don’t see each other at work much since we’re in different departments, but I know she works hard.”
I’m starting to think she’s quizzing me for reasons other than passing the time. I think we’re both wishing Liv would return. She asks, “Have you ever held a baby?”
I want to laugh, but I restrain myself. “My little sister.”
I slip off my jacket and drape it on the back of a dining chair. It was a good momentary distraction, but then we’re left in the quiet room again.
“Oh.” Her face gains some color back when she smiles. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-three.” I chuckle while rolling up my shirtsleeves.
She moves to rest against the counter. “I’m too weak to laugh, but that’s funny.”
Seems laughter is good medicine. I’m out of jokes, but I share something personal to my family, “One of my brothers and his wife are pregnant with their first. First grandkid for my parents.”
She nods. “I’m sure the baby will be spoiled with love.”
“Yeah, we’re all pretty excited.”
Liv stops in her socks as if she’s interrupted.
“Excited about what?” Wearing fitted workout pants and an oversized NYU sweatshirt, she hustles to slip on her pink sneakers.
I’m digging this new side of Liv that’s been revealed.
It’s like a secret club that only members are privy to, and she gave me a golden invitation.
“My brother and his wife are having a baby.” Liv’s smile is instant. I continue, “First grandkid, so I was telling Cassandra how excited we all are to welcome a baby into the family.”
Her expression falls, an overwhelming emotion I can’t quite identify striking her face. I’m not sure what happened, but I’ve caused tears to fill her eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” she says, waving me off. “It’s fine.” With her head tilted, she wipes her eyes as if I can’t see her visibly shaken. She then grabs her wallet from her purse as if nothing had happened. “You have my number.”
“I do.” I move closer, but she walks away. I can’t take it personally since she’s not even looked at me in the past two minutes to know. “I’m sorry.”
She pauses and takes a stumbling breath. “I should get her home.”
“We’ll talk when you get back?”
“Sure,” she replies as she walks out the door. “Call me if you or Maxwell need anything.”
“I will—” The door closes before I finish speaking.
“What the hell just happened?” Returning to the window, I drag a hand over my head while staring through the glass.
Just when I think Liv and I have made progress, we end up back where we started .
. . and not the first time, but instead, we’re stuck in that conference room with her shooting daggers.
The worst part is I have no idea how I screwed this up. Fucking hell.
I can’t seem to win, but that won’t keep me from trying.
I drag my arm over my head to block out the noise.
It doesn’t work.
Ripped from a dream that Liv was starring in, fully naked, I might add, I rub my eyes before I can open them. The noise is . . . crying?
I open one eye and the other, the burning real and causing me to clamp them closed and rub. When I reopen them, I don’t recognize the ceiling or the couch where I’m lying. Why am I on—shit. I’m at Liv’s.
Bolting upright, I grab my phone to see two missed texts from her:
We’re at the ER. It’s her appendix.
The second reads:
They’re prepping her for surgery. I’m going to stay. I’ll keep my phone on if you need me.
I hear more crying.
Maxwell.
Oh fuck.
I jump to my feet, still feeling out of sorts from my unintended nap. The texts were from an hour ago, but I call out, “Liv?” just in case she came home and was letting me sleep.
Maxwell screams. Only little cries but he doesn’t sound upset, which is a relief. I follow the sound to a closed door in the hallway, and slowly turn the knob to peek in. A giggle erupts in the dark before my eyes have time to adjust, and I’m met with eyes that reflect the little light I let in.
Standing at the crib’s railing, he starts bouncing excitedly, his laughter getting the better of him. To say he’s cute would be an understatement. He’s freaking adorable with his big grin and wide-as-saucer eyes. “Hi there, big guy.”
I’m greeted with a, “Hi,” that slices the air, and he bounces again. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a five-year-old or a toddler. He’s littler and younger. Leaning down so he can see me better, I say, “Hey, Maxwell. I’m Noah. Noah Westcott.”
No clue why I’m introducing myself like he understands the formality of the act.
He raises his arms, and I think he wants me to pick him up. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re supposed to be sleeping, not playing.”
In response, I catch a few “Blab blab blabs” and a “Mama.”
“Your mom will be back soon.” I debate what to do. He seems content, so maybe he just wanted some company. I scruff his hair and tickle under his chin. He’s cute.
Round face, chubby legs, and a cowlick of brown hair that he’ll be fighting the rest of his life. “I feel your pain, Max. I have a matching one.” I tilt my head down just to show him. If blowing spit bubbles means he likes this game, then I’m winning at this babysitting gig.
“You need to sleep. Will you lie down?” He sits. “Nice party trick but keep going.”
I can’t see much from the crack of light sneaking in, but I don’t think he’s going back to sleep anytime soon. Cooing and grinning, he grips the bars of the crib and rattles them. “Strong kid.” Leaning over, I ask, “Want to go night-night?”
Wide awake is an understatement.
What do I do?
“Hold him until he falls asleep again.” Cassandra’s advice comes to mind.
Since he’s already pulled himself to his feet, I ask, “Are you going to go to bed or—”
His arms shoot into the air again.
It’s my sign. I reach in and pick him up, pulling him against my chest. Our faces are close enough for me to see his eyes even better and for him to see mine. His tiny fingers rub over the scruff on my chin, and he grins. “Hey there,” I say again, just to make him feel at home in my arms.
It’s odd how at home I feel already holding him.
I move to the cushy chair and settle in. Rocking him in my arms comes to mind from movies and such that I’ve seen, but I think he’s past that. Before I can arrange him, he lays his head on my chest under my chin. One hand holds me, and the other wanders as if it moves of its own accord.
Grinning, I take it and hold it in my hand. His eyes close without needing prompting. His breathing steadies, and he’s fast asleep. With one hand, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Liv:
Don’t worry about us. Maxwell and I are doing fine.