Only You
Page 33
I smiled. “Thanks. I felt proud of myself, too. Although when he turned around and stormed out, I burst into tears. That wasn’t too Zen of me. But it only took him a few minutes to realize his mistake and knock on my door again.” Picking up my spoon, I giggled. “Of course, it helped that he had locked himself out of his apartment.”
Maren laughed. “See? The universe heard you and arranged everything.”
“Or he was so distracted by his conflicting feelings, he simply forgot the key,” said Stella wryly. “He’s only human, after all.”
“Not when it comes to sex,” I said under my breath before digging my spoon into the bread pudding and licking it clean. “I’m convinced he has some kind of superpower when it comes to orgasms.”
Both my sisters sighed loudly. “How are you not waking the baby?” Maren asked.
“Well, we did wake her Thursday night,” I admitted. I had gone over to his apartment after my event at the MGM, even though it had been almost midnight. Not that we wasted any time—we were naked on his living room floor within ten minutes of my arrival, our clothing flung all over the room. When we were done (didn’t take long), Nate had rug burns on his knees, I found my bra hanging off a lamp, and we’d been anything but quiet. It took Nate half an hour to get her back to sleep after that.
Friday night, we’d done it in the kitchen, me still in my work clothes and Nate behind me with his hand clamped over my mouth. I had a bruise on the front of my hip where it kept banging into the edge of the counter, but Nate had been completely unapologetic, claiming it was my fault for coming over in a little black dress and heels without my underwear on. However, when I’d shown him it was still there last night, he’d dropped to his knees and kissed it softly.
“So do you spend the night there?” Stella wondered.
“No,” I said. “He always asks if I want to stay, but the baby sleeps in his room. I feel like three might be a little crowded in there, and I had to get up for work pretty early every day last week. Did I tell you Coco had her baby?”
They wanted to hear all about that, and about how Mia was doing as well.
“She’s doing great,” I said, licking some maple crème anglaise from my finger. “Actually, she offered me a job up there.”
My sister stared at me.
“Really?” Stella said. “At the winery?”
I told them what her offer entailed, and that I was tempted by it but had asked for some time to think it over. “It might be nice for a change, and I do like that area, but…” Swirling the last of my champagne around in the bottom of my glass, I shrugged. “This thing with Nate feels really good. I know it’s only the beginning, and in the past my instincts have not been the greatest, but I’m hopeful. I really think he might be what I’ve been looking for.”
They didn’t say anything right away, which was a little disconcerting. Finally Stella spoke. “That’s great, Emme. As long as you’re being careful and keeping perspective on things, why not take time to think over the offer? I think that’s smart to keep the option open awhile.”
“Me too,” echoed Maren.
“Thanks.” Then I sighed. “The one thing I wish is that we were able to have, like, an actual date. Go out for dinner or something.” I wrinkled my nose, dropping my eyes to the napkin in my lap. “But with the baby, it’s hard. And I don’t want to whine about it. He finally seems like he’s getting used to the idea that he’s a father, and that it’s for life. Like, this is not a temporary thing that’s going to go away once Paisley’s mom decides to show up again.”
“Has she been in touch?” Stella asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Not since that one phone call.”
“What’s he going to do then?” Maren asked. “Will they share custody?”
“I assume so.” I nodded, picking up my spoon and poking at my meal again, but I didn’t really feel like eating anymore. The truth was, Nate was kind of evasive on the subject of joint custody or a more permanent arrangement for Paisley once the month was up. I’d asked him only yesterday if he was planning to get a bigger apartment or maybe even buy a house with a backyard somewhere, and he’d sort of grunted that he was thinking about it but hadn’t really seemed too willing to discuss it.
I hadn’t pressed the issue—it wasn’t really my business, and I was learning with Nate that it was better to let him decide when it was time to open up about things rather than poking and prodding at him. He didn’t respond well to pressure. But he was working on sharing more about himself with me. Yesterday as we’d walked around Partridge Creek, pushing Paisley in the stroller, he’d talked a little bit about his mom and her anxiety, her bouts of agoraphobia and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. It was the most he’d ever talked to me about such a personal subject, and I’d listened attentively, swallowing all the questions I had. I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me without being judged or analyzed or evaluated for relationship potential. It was not about that. It was about him feeling comfortable enough with himself to show me part of what he normally buried. It was about trust.
“You know, I could watch the baby for you,” Maren offered. “If you’ve got a night off next week and you two want to have dinner, as long as I’m not teaching that night, I’d be happy to do it.”
“I wouldn’t mind either,” Stella said. “If Maren has to teach on your night off, let me know. I’ll do it. I love babies.”
“Really?” Love and gratitude for my sisters flooded through me. “You would do that?”
“Of course,” Maren said, and Stella nodded.
“You guys are the best. Let me check my schedule and get back with you,” I told them excitedly. “And let me make sure it’s okay with Nate, but I’m pretty sure he’ll go for it.”
Later that afternoon, I told him about their offer as we ambled along the Riverwalk with Paisley in the stroller. He stopped in his tracks.
“Are you serious? They really offered to do that?” He looked especially handsome with his hair all windblown and aviator sunglasses on.
“Yes. And they’d be really good with her. Stella was a nanny too, and Maren is basically a Disney princess. In fact, I’ve hired her out to do rich kids’ birthday parties dressed up like Cinderella a bunch of times.” I giggled at the memory. “And she’s always a good sport about it. Although she makes good money every time, at least a few hundred bucks, so that helps.”
Nate shook his head. “I cannot believe people actually pay that kind of money for someone to show up in a costume at a birthday party, especially for a kid.”
“Oh, believe it,” I told him. “I’ve done kids’ parties that cost thousands and thousands of dollars. These people don’t just want someone in a Cinderella getup from Target with an iPod. They want the gown and the castle, the pumpkin carriage, real white horses, elaborate decorations, a DJ with a stereo system, silver tea sets, cakes shaped like a glass slipper, fireworks, bounce houses, piñatas, a dance floor, face painters—”
He groaned. “Stop. Just stop right there. Before Paisley hears you and gets ideas.”
I laughed. “Don’t you want to give your daughter a princess party?”
“No. She can have a regular party with kids from the neighborhood like we did when we were kids, where you play musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey, and eat a slice of homemade yellow cake with chocolate frosting on paper plates with plastic forks and ice cream melting all around it,” said Nate.
“We?” I asked curiously. “I thought you didn’t have any siblings.”
“I meant you and me,” he said quickly. “Kids from our generation.”
“Ah. Well, I suspect you’re going to want to spoil your daughter a little more than that. I bet she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger, just like my sisters and I were with our dad. He never could say no to us.”
Nate went quiet after that, so quiet that I was concerned I’d said something wrong. Was he thinking about his future with Paisley? Or his past? Was he picturing the suburban neighborhood where he grew up and wondering if he owed his daughter the same kind of upbringing? Downtown loft living was great for single people like us, but if you had kids, you had to think about things like safe outdoor places for them to play, schools, friends nearby. But rather than ask him about his plans again, I changed the subject. “So what do you think about letting my sisters babysit so we could go out one night this week? I looked at my schedule earlier and believe it or not, we don’t have any events scheduled for this weekend.”
Maren laughed. “See? The universe heard you and arranged everything.”
“Or he was so distracted by his conflicting feelings, he simply forgot the key,” said Stella wryly. “He’s only human, after all.”
“Not when it comes to sex,” I said under my breath before digging my spoon into the bread pudding and licking it clean. “I’m convinced he has some kind of superpower when it comes to orgasms.”
Both my sisters sighed loudly. “How are you not waking the baby?” Maren asked.
“Well, we did wake her Thursday night,” I admitted. I had gone over to his apartment after my event at the MGM, even though it had been almost midnight. Not that we wasted any time—we were naked on his living room floor within ten minutes of my arrival, our clothing flung all over the room. When we were done (didn’t take long), Nate had rug burns on his knees, I found my bra hanging off a lamp, and we’d been anything but quiet. It took Nate half an hour to get her back to sleep after that.
Friday night, we’d done it in the kitchen, me still in my work clothes and Nate behind me with his hand clamped over my mouth. I had a bruise on the front of my hip where it kept banging into the edge of the counter, but Nate had been completely unapologetic, claiming it was my fault for coming over in a little black dress and heels without my underwear on. However, when I’d shown him it was still there last night, he’d dropped to his knees and kissed it softly.
“So do you spend the night there?” Stella wondered.
“No,” I said. “He always asks if I want to stay, but the baby sleeps in his room. I feel like three might be a little crowded in there, and I had to get up for work pretty early every day last week. Did I tell you Coco had her baby?”
They wanted to hear all about that, and about how Mia was doing as well.
“She’s doing great,” I said, licking some maple crème anglaise from my finger. “Actually, she offered me a job up there.”
My sister stared at me.
“Really?” Stella said. “At the winery?”
I told them what her offer entailed, and that I was tempted by it but had asked for some time to think it over. “It might be nice for a change, and I do like that area, but…” Swirling the last of my champagne around in the bottom of my glass, I shrugged. “This thing with Nate feels really good. I know it’s only the beginning, and in the past my instincts have not been the greatest, but I’m hopeful. I really think he might be what I’ve been looking for.”
They didn’t say anything right away, which was a little disconcerting. Finally Stella spoke. “That’s great, Emme. As long as you’re being careful and keeping perspective on things, why not take time to think over the offer? I think that’s smart to keep the option open awhile.”
“Me too,” echoed Maren.
“Thanks.” Then I sighed. “The one thing I wish is that we were able to have, like, an actual date. Go out for dinner or something.” I wrinkled my nose, dropping my eyes to the napkin in my lap. “But with the baby, it’s hard. And I don’t want to whine about it. He finally seems like he’s getting used to the idea that he’s a father, and that it’s for life. Like, this is not a temporary thing that’s going to go away once Paisley’s mom decides to show up again.”
“Has she been in touch?” Stella asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Not since that one phone call.”
“What’s he going to do then?” Maren asked. “Will they share custody?”
“I assume so.” I nodded, picking up my spoon and poking at my meal again, but I didn’t really feel like eating anymore. The truth was, Nate was kind of evasive on the subject of joint custody or a more permanent arrangement for Paisley once the month was up. I’d asked him only yesterday if he was planning to get a bigger apartment or maybe even buy a house with a backyard somewhere, and he’d sort of grunted that he was thinking about it but hadn’t really seemed too willing to discuss it.
I hadn’t pressed the issue—it wasn’t really my business, and I was learning with Nate that it was better to let him decide when it was time to open up about things rather than poking and prodding at him. He didn’t respond well to pressure. But he was working on sharing more about himself with me. Yesterday as we’d walked around Partridge Creek, pushing Paisley in the stroller, he’d talked a little bit about his mom and her anxiety, her bouts of agoraphobia and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. It was the most he’d ever talked to me about such a personal subject, and I’d listened attentively, swallowing all the questions I had. I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me without being judged or analyzed or evaluated for relationship potential. It was not about that. It was about him feeling comfortable enough with himself to show me part of what he normally buried. It was about trust.
“You know, I could watch the baby for you,” Maren offered. “If you’ve got a night off next week and you two want to have dinner, as long as I’m not teaching that night, I’d be happy to do it.”
“I wouldn’t mind either,” Stella said. “If Maren has to teach on your night off, let me know. I’ll do it. I love babies.”
“Really?” Love and gratitude for my sisters flooded through me. “You would do that?”
“Of course,” Maren said, and Stella nodded.
“You guys are the best. Let me check my schedule and get back with you,” I told them excitedly. “And let me make sure it’s okay with Nate, but I’m pretty sure he’ll go for it.”
Later that afternoon, I told him about their offer as we ambled along the Riverwalk with Paisley in the stroller. He stopped in his tracks.
“Are you serious? They really offered to do that?” He looked especially handsome with his hair all windblown and aviator sunglasses on.
“Yes. And they’d be really good with her. Stella was a nanny too, and Maren is basically a Disney princess. In fact, I’ve hired her out to do rich kids’ birthday parties dressed up like Cinderella a bunch of times.” I giggled at the memory. “And she’s always a good sport about it. Although she makes good money every time, at least a few hundred bucks, so that helps.”
Nate shook his head. “I cannot believe people actually pay that kind of money for someone to show up in a costume at a birthday party, especially for a kid.”
“Oh, believe it,” I told him. “I’ve done kids’ parties that cost thousands and thousands of dollars. These people don’t just want someone in a Cinderella getup from Target with an iPod. They want the gown and the castle, the pumpkin carriage, real white horses, elaborate decorations, a DJ with a stereo system, silver tea sets, cakes shaped like a glass slipper, fireworks, bounce houses, piñatas, a dance floor, face painters—”
He groaned. “Stop. Just stop right there. Before Paisley hears you and gets ideas.”
I laughed. “Don’t you want to give your daughter a princess party?”
“No. She can have a regular party with kids from the neighborhood like we did when we were kids, where you play musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey, and eat a slice of homemade yellow cake with chocolate frosting on paper plates with plastic forks and ice cream melting all around it,” said Nate.
“We?” I asked curiously. “I thought you didn’t have any siblings.”
“I meant you and me,” he said quickly. “Kids from our generation.”
“Ah. Well, I suspect you’re going to want to spoil your daughter a little more than that. I bet she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger, just like my sisters and I were with our dad. He never could say no to us.”
Nate went quiet after that, so quiet that I was concerned I’d said something wrong. Was he thinking about his future with Paisley? Or his past? Was he picturing the suburban neighborhood where he grew up and wondering if he owed his daughter the same kind of upbringing? Downtown loft living was great for single people like us, but if you had kids, you had to think about things like safe outdoor places for them to play, schools, friends nearby. But rather than ask him about his plans again, I changed the subject. “So what do you think about letting my sisters babysit so we could go out one night this week? I looked at my schedule earlier and believe it or not, we don’t have any events scheduled for this weekend.”
