Текст книги "Jerk"

Автор книги: Kat T. Masen

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Sitting in front of me with the deepest stare, his facial expressions remain stagnant as he waits for me to rationally respond to his request. Fat fucking chance. He basically outright called me a whore, again. The anger is bubbling at the surface, and under the table I am gripping my clutch so tight I expect the contents to explode. Emotions are difficult to disguise at the best of times, and this moment is far from the best of times.

I stand up, and with shaky hands, give him the reality check he needs. “You know what, Haden? I don’t get you. One minute I think you’re not such a bad guy and may actually have a heart beating somewhere, then the next, you act like the biggest jerk to walk this earth.”

My pride, dignity, and lack of self-control are the reasons I have to walk away. “I’m leaving. You can have your test. In fact, I’ll be booking it as soon as possible so maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull that you’re the father.”

Saying goodbye to everyone is difficult in the state of anger I’m in, but I manage to plaster on a fake smile, doing my rounds till I can go home and officially climb into a dark hole.

This isn’t going to work. This complete stranger walks into my life and every time we are in the same air space as each other, it ends disastrously. I totally blame him. Immature and stubborn like the rest of that generation. Jason, on the other hand…he was mature. Polite, respectful. That means crap all right now because it isn’t his sperm doing laps in my uterus.

I don’t attempt reading, hoping the exhaustion will knock me out. Staring at the dark ceiling, my mind is playing tricks on me and when the light of my cell brightens the room, I welcome the distraction.

I don’t know what I’m thinking when I’m around you. Seeing your stomach tonight was a reality check. I don’t know how to be a dad.

I quickly type the first thing that comes to mind. No filter from this hormonal pregnant woman.

I’ll book the appointment first thing next week. You’ll get your answers. Then I’m off to visit my family for a few days. You don’t have to see me which is probably for the best.

Just when I place the cell down on my nightstand, I hear a knock on my door. Late night knocks aren’t exactly safe, unless of course Vicky’s been out on the town. So, armed with my frying pan and baseball bat for safe measures, I walk towards the door and stare through the peephole.

It’s him.

I unlock the deadbolt and pull off the chain to open the door. He is leaning against the door frame, with no jacket and his hair a wild mess. I can’t detect any alcohol on his breath and his eyes appear crystal clear behind his frames.

“You don’t need to do the test. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“Too late. You did, and well, maybe it’s for the best.” I cross my arms, noticing his stare fixated on my tank that is semi see-through. He’s a guy, they are like magnets to boobs, and my boobs could qualify to be their own planets right now. Don’t read anything more into this, Presley Malone.

Quick to bring his tortured gaze back up to my face, he carries on. “I want to come with you to visit your family.”

Shocked by the change of subject, I stare back at him oddly. “Why would you want to do that? They know the whole story.”

“Because they need to meet me. I’m going to be around their grandchild every day. Surely that counts for something.”

Did he just tell me he’s going to be around the baby every day? This is getting more complicated by the minute. I am confused, to say the least, plus it’s after midnight and well past my bedtime. No good could come from this conversation.

“I really don’t think—”

“I’m going. Either you tell them I’ll be there or I will,” he threatens, eyeing me dubiously.

“Are you threatening me?” I raise my voice.

“Honestly Malone, why do you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?”

I call defeat. “Fine. Your funeral. My dad once shot a deer on top of the mountain range from our front porch. Just saying.”

He appears amused, the corners of his lips curving upwards, and to disguise his moment of weakness, he moves his hand towards his stubble and rubs his chin gently.

“I have a black belt in martial arts. Plus I can wrestle a boar in the wild. But’s that a story for another time.”

I let out a small laugh. Maybe this won’t be so bad, and just maybe there is a side to him that I haven’t seen yet.

But that’s the thing about maybes; they leave you with a ray of hope when chances are you’re bound to get hurt one way or another.

 

The plan to visit my parents came to a screeching halt when Jason called to inform me that the apartment had sold. It happened late Sunday, and I missed his call while taking the longest nap that ever existed. Fatigue is a bitch. My new routine gym effort was proving difficult, as was my ability to curb my coffee cravings. Tea was coffee’s bitch.

Yes, I am THAT tired.

I contemplate calling him back, but I’m weak and extremely aroused. Stupid What to Expect When You’re Expecting books were spot on. My hormones had turned into a sorority of college boys all trying to get me to succumb to a wild orgy. I knew if I talked to Jason, I would invite him over one last time and take him on the kitchen bench, armed with a tub of maple syrup.

Cravings are also a bitch.

But texting can only get you so far, so I swallow my pride, hormones, and all the other crap, and call him.

“Long time no speak,” he greets warmly.

My body involuntarily sinks into my bed at the sound of his voice. I miss him, I miss his voice. I can almost smell him over the phone.

“So, it’s sold? I’ll sure miss this place.”

“The buyers are a young couple. Nice enough. Anyway, they want to move in next month.”

Add more stress to my growing ball of stress twine. “That’s quick. I’m half packed I guess, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” I respond calmly.

There is an awkward silence, and I hear a shuffle over the phone. “So how have you been?”

“Good,” I reply. “And you?”

“Yeah, good. I’m seeing someone,” he admits quietly.

“I figured. You’re something special, it was only a matter of time.” I smile into the receiver.

He laughs, and it’s familiar and comforting. “And you?”

I had thought about telling him about the baby but decided against it. It doesn’t matter anyway. He has moved on. Sooner or later he will find out, but as for now, I’m downright exhausted and just can’t find the energy to have that long-winded conversation which will probably end up with me in tears.

“No, still single. Just working and stuff.”

We talk for another hour about work, family, and life. It’s like visiting an old friend, and during the conversation it becomes even clearer to me that we made the right decision. He hasn’t changed one bit, but that’s Jason. Happy to live in the same bubble, just screwing someone else instead of me.

In my mad rush to find somewhere to live, Vicky comes to my rescue. She has a friend living not too far away who has a room available. Her name is Kate and she’s renting the apartment from a friend. I call her first thing on Monday and have a long chat about the room and apartment. She’s super nice, even with her British accent—because of which I sometimes have no clue what she’s saying.

We agreed to meet at her apartment later that afternoon so she could show me around.

“So that’s the kitchen, and just over on the right would be your room.”

Kate opens the door to a sunlit room with a view of a small park. It’s furnished with a double bed and dark wooden dresser that match the floors. There’s a walk-in closet that’s the perfect size to fit all my clothes in. Not that I have many now, since I morphed into a hippopotamus.

“It’s gorgeous. But I wouldn’t be here for long, Kate. With the baby and all, I’ll need to find my own place.”

“That’s totally fine. The room’s always been vacant. The only time it gets used is when my mates from L.A. fly over, but even then the lot of them prefer to stay at the Waldorf so they can have a gander at the cute bellhops.”

I wasn’t quite sure what gander meant, but I laughed anyway because the bellhops were indeed cute.

We sit in the kitchen and talk for a bit, getting to know each other. Kate is from Manchester and moved here permanently a few years back. She is head of the division in her company and is completely career obsessed, which she blames for her lack of relationships.

“So no boyfriend?” I grin, taking a sip of my tea.

“Uh…I wouldn’t call it that. It’s complicated.”

“It always is, trust me.”

“It’s only complicated because I’ve been…involved…with my best friend’s brother.”

“And let me guess, she doesn’t know?”

Kate shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t exactly get along with his brother so I’m fairly certain he would go barmy on me.”

Note to self: Google “barmy”.

“I guess if you’re having fun and it’s not serious, you could keep it on the down low.”

“Trying to hide something from Eric is like Mission Impossible. He has a radar on everything; he could just look at you and tell when you last had sex. Lying to him is exhausting. I’ve been telling him that I’m screwing this guy at work.”

“It could be worse…look at me.”

Kate admitted that she was dying to know my story, and given that we were roommates now, I told her the truth.

“Wow! All my mates are married with kids, or getting married. Except for Vicky. Vicky is a hoot! Did she tell you about our weekend in Atlantic City?”

“That was you?” I laugh.

I remember the story vividly. Vicky and a friend had met these guys at the craps table, and they weren’t shy about letting them know they wanted to spoil them for the whole weekend. They were taken to the fanciest restaurants and were showered with lavish gifts. Then when it came time for the intimate dinner in the hotel room, Vicky and Kate both did a runner and checked into another hotel. They even bought wigs in case they ran into them.

When they got to the airport, the men happened to be there and were super pissed. The only thing that saved Vicky and Kate was that the airport security detained the men because of the large amount of cash they were carrying. The girls got on their flight, lucky to get away from them.

“That was me alright. It was totally hilarious! No partying for you, though. So if you don’t mind me asking, where’s the Jerk now?”

“Around, somewhere. Like I said, we don’t really communicate well.”

“So is he still getting married? What kinda bird would wanna get hitched after hearing that news?”

“The kinda bird that must really love him, I guess.”

Kate pulls the keys out of her purse and removes a spare from the key ring. “Here you go. Feel free to move your stuff in whenever. I’ll be working late most nights this week because my boss is in town. Maybe you can join us for dinner one night?” She smiles.

“Sure.” I smile back.

With that problem sorted, I focus on packing up my apartment and tying up some loose ends at work before I leave to visit my folks. Haden had booked a flight the day after mine, and would be staying for only the weekend. He tried to book a motel but my mother insisted he could sleep in the guestroom. He thought it was very nice of her, but deep down I knew it was her way of watching him and asking a thousand questions. She reminded me every day that he was the father and this is who my child will look up too.

Great, my child will wrestle boars.

The day before I am scheduled to leave, I am met by an unusual surprise. As I’m just about to grab a quick lunch, I look up and see Eloise standing at my cubicle. Wearing a knitted pale pink top and a grey pencil skirt, she stands proudly in her high patent pumps. Her long blonde hair is parted to one side, and even I have to admit, she is drop dead gorgeous.

“Hi Presley. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was hoping you were free for lunch?”

I’m put on the spot; there’s no way out of this. “Sure, Eloise.”

We head to some “healthy living” restaurant not too far from the office. Salads aren’t really on my agenda, considering all I can think about is a big fat juicy hamburger and a bowl of syrup on the side. Nevertheless, I order a warm chicken salad. Eloise orders a soup that looks like mushed lawn.

“Haden told me everything,” she opens up. “It was quite a shock, and definitely took me some time to take it all in.”

I remain quiet, not sure of where she’s going with this.

“I love Haden. Meeting him was like fate, you know? Everything was just perfect and he is just so…I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

Maybe she can’t explain it, but it is written all over her face. That constant glow of happiness, the eyes dancing in delight, the smile that cannot be erased. She’s in love, and here I sit without a man in my life and the possibility that I will never find love because I’ll be a single mother.

“We want to help you. Both Haden and I. I know he has difficulty showing it. But he is a kind person, Presley, you just have to be patient with him,” she says softly.

“Eloise, despite what happened, I don’t know him from a bar of soap. You have to understand that I need to be able to trust the both of you with my child.”

“But it’s Haden’s child, too,” she reminds me.

“Yes…” I admit, “but I’m carrying this baby. I’m the primary parent.”

“So that’s another thing. We’d like to talk about putting together a schedule. You know, what days and weekends we could have the baby.”

My warm chicken salad might as well have been a bowl of jagged-edged rocks. Swallowing a mouthful, the sharp edges painfully slide down along with my overwhelming desire to tell the both of them to fuck off. The baby is still inside me and we’re planning out schedules?!

She reminds me of myself, and maybe if she wasn’t his fiancée, I would think this was a good idea. Especially since I plan everything out and even mentioned this to him. But I’m a hormonal monster in heat, this baby is mine, and there is no chance in hell they will steal this baby away from me.

“While your suggestions are appreciated, I would like to discuss all this with Haden,” I say in my polite yet gritting voice.

“I’m sorry.” She places her hand on mine, making me feel very uncomfortable. “I think this weekend will be great for the both of you. Gives you time to talk about plans and schedules.”

“You won’t be joining us?” I ask, pretending to play dumb.

“No, I have a dress fitting, plus my bachelorette night.” She smiles playfully.

The looming wedding is a dark grey cloud hovering over me. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were getting married so soon.”

“Still six months away but my schedule is so busy and my best friend is getting married in two months, so it was the only free weekend I had.”

I look at my watch, praying that time is up, and thank the fucking stars it is.

“Listen, I have to head back to work. It was really nice chatting with you, Eloise.”

She places her hand on mine again, and this time I wait with patience. “No, thank you, Presley. Haden told me how nice you were and that we would get along.”

“I highly doubt that.” I chuckle. “He doesn’t think very highly of me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She pulls back almost immediately, her perfectly-shaped brows furrowing in concern. “When we met in London, he never stopped talking about you. Sure, it was work related, but it was your name that I heard, and with admiration.”

“Honestly Eloise, you must be mistaken. Maybe he was talking about Dee. Haden and me don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“I know what I heard. To be honest, I thought you guys dated by the way he spoke about you. I was even jealous for a while.” With a disturbingly fake laugh, she continues. “Anyway, timing was perfect for us. He met me, and look, we are getting married!”

Is this true? Shell-shocked by her comment, I pass it off as nothing, but my brain is going into overdrive. “Anyway, thanks for lunch, Eloise.”

Back in the office, I stare at my screen in a daze. So much of what she told me doesn’t add up. Obviously, she knows Haden better than I do. Actually, I don’t know him at all, yet the conversation on the way he talked about me fills me with a desire to find out more. So what if he said nice things? It doesn’t mean anything. Remember, he said I meant nothing to him. Those were his exact words to Marcus.

“Hey.” Haden is leaning against my partition, and the smell of his aftershave hits me. God, he smells so good. And why is that deep burgundy shirt accentuating his perfectly-toned forearms?

“Oh, hey.”

“Sorry I didn’t warn you about lunch. It was kind of sprung on me after many arguments.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry if it caused arguments.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire. You are so not sorry!

“So you’re leaving tomorrow?” He swiftly changes the subject.

“Yeah, an early morning flight. So I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning from the airport?”

He appears calm, but again that stare leaves me breathless. I need to remember that he is nothing but the sperm donor in this equation. These stupid thoughts, feelings, they need to be buried along with my libido.

“I’ve hired a car. I’ll just meet you at your parents’ in the morning,” he responds quietly. “I’ve got a meeting all afternoon, so I’ll see you then?”

“See you then.”

He begins to walk away and I let out the huge breath I’d been holding till he turns around, forcing me to suck it back in.

“And Presley…” Our eyes meet and something catches me off guard, a force or pull that makes my stomach flutter…or perhaps that was the baby. Whatever it is, I need to ignore it or I’ll be in trouble. It’s a slippery slope once this shit starts. With a deep penetrating stare, his eyes narrow and his lips twitch nervously. “Have a safe flight.”

 

The second my feet land on my parents’ front porch, it’s a bittersweet moment. Having grown up in this house as a child, I am now standing here as a grown woman with child. Yeah, let’s blame the hormones again, but it was definitely worth a good cry.

I have nothing but sweet memories of this house. The pale yellow paint and white shutters have remained the same throughout the years. The garden is covered in roses and carnations, my mom’s favorite, of course. The rockers are sitting on the porch, the same ones that belonged to my Gramps and Grammy. Carved in some fancy wood, they’ve been passed down through the generations. The warm air touches my skin, and just when I’m about to shed some more tears, my dad comes out carrying what looks like road kill.

“Here’s my little Poodle!”

I cringe at the nickname, stepping forward and walking into his arms. His overbearing hug and scent of wooden musk engulfs me and I burst into tears, once again.

“I missed you, Dad,” I babble like a baby through my tears.

“Aww, you got those damn hormones your mother did,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

He lets go and takes a good look at me. I’m wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a shirt that has ‘Turkey Baking’ written on it. My belly is popping out; in fact, over the past week it decided to grow tremendously and could no longer be concealed no matter what I wore. What was that about feeling like a beached whale again?

“You’re looking beautiful, Poodle. You got that glow to you.”

“Step away, George, and let me see my daughter.”

My mom is standing behind him, dressed in a fluorescent pink yoga outfit, much to my surprise. She hasn’t changed much since I saw her last, her bangs still cut like she’s rocking an 80’s video clip, and it wouldn’t hurt her to wear a bra once in a while. Nevertheless, I was told on numerous occasions we looked like sisters. Apparently she had a youthful glow, or perhaps I looked like an old soul. Let’s stick to the youthful glow story to boost my ego.

“Come here, give me a hug.” She smiles.

I step forward and embrace her. Leaning my head on her shoulder, I’m happy to admit that it’s good to come home. What I needed was some quality time with my family. That, and to get ridiculously spoiled.

“George, take her bags up to her room. Honey, you have to eat something. It’s not about you anymore. I know you city girls are into all these fad diets but if you don’t eat and gain nutrients the baby could be born with God knows what.”

“Mom, I’ve been eating. And would it kill you to wear a bra?”

“I read an article about how bras can increase your risk of breast cancer. Your dad seems to enjoy it.”

I wince at the mental image. “Oh my god! You did not just say that.”

As I walk through the house I see that nothing has changed, apart from a ridiculous looking exercise thingamajig in the living room. Hanging on the walls are several photos of Gemma and me throughout our childhood. I take a moment to stand in the hallway and look at the photos, so much fun and laughter hanging on this one wall. I rest my hands on my stomach and hope that one day my child will get to experience everything I did. That would most likely require me finding a husband and having more children. Do not have this conversation with yourself now, you sadistic fool!

There is a photo of Jason and me sitting in a small frame amongst the others. I remember the day clearly—it was the first summer I brought him here to meet my family. We are sitting in a boat, him behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist. Laughing out loud, I recall just afterwards when we both fell into the lake accidentally. It’s a great memory, and so as not to get too caught up in nostalgia, I go in search of my mom.

I settle into the kitchen as my mom prepares lunch for us. As we all sit down to enjoy the meal, my mom takes this opportunity to lecture me on everything I should have done, should be doing, and basically how I should raise this kid until he or she is in college. Only my mom could have an entire conversation with herself while I devour the homemade pie in front of me. My dad polishes off three beers as she rambles on. By the end, we both stare at her until she realizes she’s been talking to herself.

“Honestly, the two of you are like peas in a pod. Can’t get anyone to listen in this household,” she rattles off, moving towards the sink as she starts to wash up.

My dad shrugs his shoulders and heads out the back door with his fishing hat on.

Even at the sink, my mom continues to talk a mile a minute. I take my cell out of my pocket looking for some social media relief when I see a text on the front screen.

Hope you got there safe. I’ve got my black belt packed.

With mom still going on about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding, I scramble to send him a text before she realizes I’m not paying attention.

Pack a new set of ears. My mom has not stopped talking since I got here. Apparently I should be looking at colleges now because there’s a waiting list.

The exhaustion from traveling finally catches up with me, so I excuse myself to take a short nap. I wake up in a blind panic, and disorientated, I realize I have slept through to the morning. My mom didn’t even have the balls to wake me. The time on my cell says eight, and that red badge is sitting on my home screen.

We, Presley. We should be looking. We’re both parents to this baby.

Huh? There is no time to think about his text as I race out of bed and into the shower. Within minutes I’ve hopped out and dressed myself in a simple white dress that sits a lot shorter than normal. With my wedges on and my hair tied into a bun to avoid the sweltering heat, I make my way downstairs. The aroma of pancakes lingers in the air, which can only mean one thing—maple syrup. So I’m eating for two, and boy did my mother stack them on the plate!

As predicted, my mom eyes my dress. “That dress is a bit short, don’t you think?”

Rolling my eyes at her, the stupid side of me mentions that I haven’t really purchased any maternity wear apart from that black dress. With a light bulb going off in her head, she rushes to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ve got a box of stuff in the attic! George!” she yells to my dad.

Why, oh why, did I say that? I just know she’ll pull out some muumuu with a horrific pattern from the ‘80s.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She darts out of the room, leaving me alone with my almost finished stack of pancakes.

Knowing Haden will be here soon, I use the moment to relax and read the local paper. Nothing much has changed, a few new marriages and births, but as usual, the town carries on without much excitement. There is a whole page about a carnival coming in for the night. Sounds like fun, if you’re ten.

My mom is talking to herself again, carrying some boxes down the stairs. The sound of an engine pulls up at the house, and I look at my mom to see her reaction. She has her stern parental face on and dad is walking down the stairs with his rifle in hand. Alright, he doesn’t and that’s a bit overboard, but I do know he has a pocketknife ready.

I wipe my mouth with the napkin and make my way to the porch. I hear the sound of the trunk shutting closed and behind it, Haden appears. That stupid flutter, the one that gets all my panties in a twist, makes another appearance, and with every fiber of my being I’m trying to ignore how gorgeous he looks in his natural-colored denim shorts, light grey tee, and a pair of Chucks. My damn weakness. Jason hated them; he called them skater shoes. Jason also wore Jesus sandals.

For someone who just traveled on a plane, he looks refreshed, his hair perfectly styled to the side and a freshly shaven face. With a warm smile he greets me, fully aware that my parents are standing right behind me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malone, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He reaches out his hand, but my mom embraces him instead. What the hell? What happened to this lecture on how utterly disappointed she was that such a young man would be irresponsible enough to have sex with an older woman and, if his parents didn’t teach him to have any morals, then maybe she should?

What a load of BS from the woman smiling and acting all friendly with him!

My dad, on the other hand…well, his face says it all.

“So you’re the one that knocked up my Poodle?”

Haden pulls away from my mom and looks at me confused. “Um, I like women, sir. I’m not into bestiality.”

“He means me,” I complain. “Dad has called me Poodle since forever. You know, ‘cause of my curly hair.”

“Oh…right, I get it. I guess I am the one that knocked up your Poodle then,” he says, amused.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“George, please. Let the boy at least place his bags down before you get all wound up.” My mom ushers him into the house, asking him how his trip went and if wants a drink.

My dad, on the other hand, pulls me aside. “Jesus, Poodle, is he still in college?”

“Dad!” I groan. “He’s twenty-six.”

“Back in my day, you didn’t marry women older than you.”

“Oh my god.” I stop him, raising my palm to his face. “Who the hell is talking about marriage here?”

“I just assumed because the two of you are single—”

“He’s not single. Have you not listened to mom at all?”

“I try not to. It’s what happens when you’ve been married for forty years. You tend to zone out. Your mother could talk a glass eye to sleep,” he says, scratching his belly.

I ignore his ramblings and move on inside to join them in the kitchen. Mom has stacked a plate of pancakes in front of Haden. Looking quite pleased with his hefty appetite, she pours him some coffee and I nearly grab the cup from him.

God, I miss it so much.

“Your sister will be arriving this afternoon, with her friend Melissa,” Mom tells us.

“My sister is a lesbian,” I mention causally to Haden.

“Presley Victoria Malone!” Mom scolds.

“Well it’s the truth, Deidre,” Dad says with a mouthful of toast. “God gives ya what He gives ya. Gemma is a good girl.”

“So you’re saying I’m not?”

Good morning, hormones!

“Poodle, truth be it. This baby wasn’t exactly planned. Besides, what happened with you two? Because Reverend Keith could sure have a word with the both of you.”

I groan at the mention of Reverend Keith. If my parents’ grand plan is to try to marry me off to the Jerk, it was time to set the record straight. Unlike my usually opinionated self, I struggle to get a single word out and look at Haden for answers. His eyes lift up while grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. My gaze wanders down to his full lips, glazed in maple syrup. Gliding his tongue along his lips, his eyes continue to watch me with a quizzical stare.

Oh my god, Presley, look away! I shake my head to pull myself out of this pornographic maple syrup fantasy and focus on the question. We hadn’t really come up with a story, so I guess there was no better way than stating the obvious, and Haden takes charge by leading the explanation.

“Presley and I had been friends for a while but, of course, she was engaged. I’d always had a thing for her but respected her relationship. When she broke it off, I wanted to take things further.”

With a steady gaze, I look at him thinking what a load of crock this is. He should add serial bullshit artist to his resume as well.

“Presley has told us you’re engaged to someone else now?” Mom interrogates.

“Yes, I am.”

This is probably the moment I need to throw him a lifejacket. But this is fun, so I sit back and watch the show unfold.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m out of place but marrying another woman when expecting a child seems somewhat confusing?” Mom continues to pry.

Haden takes a long sip of his coffee and places the cup down on the knitted coaster. “I can understand why you think that. Eloise came into my life before I knew about the baby.”

He shuffles awkwardly so I throw him that much-needed lifejacket.

“Look, Mom and Dad, Haden and I had our fun and well…this is what happened. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give him a tour of the house, then maybe show him around town.”

I don’t wait for their response and motion for him to follow me. As soon as he catches on, we make our way upstairs and I show him to the guest room.

“I’m apologizing in advance for the plaid. Mom is a little, um…”

He laughs. “She’s a mom. She would get a long great with my mom. It was the plaid generation.”

I let out a similar laugh. “And my sister Gemma…sorry about blurting that out.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize for everything.”

I lean against the wall as he sorts out his bags. “This is weird.”