Declan
I didn’t know what Cassie was so worried about. Wyllie was a dream. He was having the best time with me and the other men in his life. We all took turns chasing him around Saks, and since we were spending thousands of dollars, no one in the store even batted an eye at his loud giggles.
Or the juice he spilled on the floor.
Brice stood behind me, and Wyllie stood next to me. All three of us in our new tuxes. Brice ruffled Wyllie’s hair. “Cassie is going to die when she sees Wyllie in this little tiny adorable baby tux.”
I raised an eyebrow in the mirror. “Of course you would be a sucker for miniature suits.”
Brice chuckled. “Can I help it if I have the cutest nephew in the whole damn world?”
“Damn.” Wyllie jumped up and down, “Damn. Damn.”
I got down on Wyllie’s level like I’d seen Cassie do. “Wyllie, you cannot say that word. That is a bad word. It’s not nice to say.” I stood narrowing my eyes at Brice.
“Hey, I said fourteen other words in that sentence. It’s your genetics that made him only repeat the bad one.” Brice stepped back so the tailor could unpin Wyllie’s jacket. “You’ve always cussed like a da—like a sailor.”
I crossed my arms, and then winced. I forgot I was all pinned together. “I cuss? Are you kidding me? You can’t go two minutes without dropping the F bomb.”
I watched as Brice’s eyes lit up. I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. “Care to make a bet?” I don’t want to say he has a gambling problem per se, but he spends a lot of time in Vegas.
“Sure. Name the terms.” There was no way I cussed more than him. It wasn’t humanly possible.
“We keep track. Every time either of us cusses we owe five dollars to the swear jar. By the end, winner keeps the money.”
“So we’re going on the honor system? Not fair, I’ll be around Cassie and our parents. They’ll keep me honest. You’ll be all alone banging random chicks and swearing the whole time.” I reached down and placed my hand on Wyllie’s head, the tailor had him just about free, but he was getting antsy.
“I always come stay with my parents the week of the Christmas. It’s their favorite holiday. We’ll start today and end on Christmas Eve.”
I nodded. “Deal. And it’s adorable that you stay with Mommy and Daddy for the holidays.”
“Hey. It’s tradition.”
Wyllie was all done with his fitting. He was standing in front of the mirror in just his diaper, watching himself dance.
“Dad, can you come grab Magic Mike over here and get him dressed?”
***
Cassie was right. When Wyllie was ready for a nap, he let us know. Brice’s bitch ass left so he could get some tail and pack a bag. Both my and Cassie’s dads had stayed at the club to play a round of golf. Those two golfed a hell of a lot. It was cold as shit outside, I didn’t know anyone else who would golf in this weather. Good thing thinking cuss words wasn’t part of the bet.
I lifted Wyllie out of his car seat as gently as I could. He wrapped his tiny hands around my neck and I about melted in a puddle on the floor. “Shhh, it’s okay, bud.” I opened the door, thinking Cassie would be there waiting, obsessing about how long we’d been gone. But the house was silent. I took my boy upstairs and laid him down in my and Cassie’s bed. I placed pillows on one side and then curled my body around him, mindful about what Cassie said about him moving so much in his sleep.
I loved being his dad. I loved this day we’d shared. Wyllie was such an amazing kid, he was so funny, so full of life. I was blessed.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. The bed smelled like Cassie, and Wyllie smelled like sticky baby, and the two combined?
Were suddenly starting to smell like home to me.
***
“Declan? Dec, wake up.”
I opened my eyes and immediately saw my son, hair a mess and cheeks pink from sleep. He grinned and pounced on me giggling. “Hey, Wild Man. Did you have a good nap? Daddy sure as hell did.”
Cassie laughed next to me, holding out her hand. “That will be five dollars, potty mouth.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the bed with us. “I presume you talked to Brice?” I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her neck. Wyllie climbed all over us like we were a human jungle gym.
“He’s downstairs. You two have been asleep for three hours.” She sat up and put Wyllie in her lap, smoothing down his bedhead.
I reached up and re-ruffled it. I liked it when he had messy baby hair. “We were exhausted from our Daddy-Wyllie day. What have you been up to?”
“I had some errands. Fake wedding stuff to do. I baked some cookies.”
“Oh yeah?” I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my face. “What kind of cookies?”
“The kind that are amazing.” Brice walked into the room and plopped down on the bed, taking Wyllie and throwing him in the air. “You want some cookies, Wild Man?”
I looked down at my watch. “It’s dinner time. He needs real food first.”
“Ha. Spoken like a true boring-ass parent.” Brice winced when he realized his slip.
Cassie laughed. “Five dollars from both of you then.”
Brice looked over at me. “You’ve been up for three minutes, dude. I’m so going to win this bet.”
As we headed downstairs, the house began to smell mouthwatering. Like fresh baked cookies and chocolate. It smelled like a house should smell. I never remembered Cassie’s mom baking when we were younger.
“Since when do the Huntington women like to bake?” In the kitchen, I grabbed Cassie and pulled her back against me and placed a light kiss on her neck. Instead of stiffening, she relaxed into me. I had no idea where we stood. I hadn’t yet figured out our next move, my next move. But I knew I loved her. I knew I wanted to touch her as often as I could.
“Are you kidding? My mom would burn the house down if she tried to use the oven. After Wyllie was born, well, I just wanted to be the type of mom who baked cookies. I wanted him to have warm holiday memories, I guess.”
Cassie was such a good mom; her every thought, her every action was for Wyllie. Who thought about her though? Who made sure she was warm and happy and loved? My heart hurt. Me. It should be me. I should be the one taking care of her, the one to show her just how perfect she was.
So why was I still dragging my ass?
“Pay up, man.” Brice held a mason jar up to my face; my name was on it in black marker.
I motioned to the other jar on the counter. “You too.”
Cassie took Wyllie from Brice and put him in his highchair. She took a star-shaped sugar cookie covered in blue icing and glittery silver sparkles and broke it into a few pieces. Wyllie’s face lit up and he grabbed the cookie with both hands. “Cookie.”
We all laughed. I snagged a cookie too. They were still warm and tasted so damn good. “Where are y’all’s parents?”
Brice took five dollars out of his pocket and put it in his jar. “Some charity dinner for the hospital. It’s just us kids tonight.”
Cassie opened the fridge and started pulling out ingredients and putting them on the granite island. “I’ll make dinner, you two watch the Wild Man.”
I raised my eyebrows in question. “You cook now too?”
“Of course I cook. How else would our son eat? Contrary to what Brice thinks, no one can survive on takeout alone.”
Brice used a paper towel to wipe off Wyllie’s face and hands. He had icing everywhere. How the hell did he get it in his eye? “I eat takeout ninety-nine percent of the time and look at me. I’m healthy, I’m cut, I have stamina for days.”
Cassie giggled. “That’s not what I heard.”
“What? Heard from who? Molly? Was it Molly? That was one time and I was so drunk I could barely stand up on my own.” Brice looked indignant. And funny. Especially with Wyllie balanced on his hip.
Cassie just shook her head, laughing. “I was kidding, you giant weirdo.”
“Oh. Uh, so was I.” Brice put his head down and quickly left the room.
I leaned my hip against the island, watching Cassie work. “Do you need any help?”
She looked up at me with her beautiful smile and my heart skipped a beat. “No, I don’t need any help. But if you want to keep me company you can open a bottle of wine.” She gestured with the knife she was using to her parents’ wine fridge, which was just as large as their food fridge.
I walked over and grabbed a bottle of pinot and poured us each a glass. I left hers on the counter beside her and took mine to a seat at the island. “When are you going to get a wedding dress?”
She picked up her glass and took a sip. “Tomorrow, I have an appointment at noon.”
“I can’t wait for you to see Wyllie in his tux.”
She nodded, without looking up. “Yeah, I bet he looks adorable.”
“He does.”
She kept her head down, just chopping away. “Speaking of appointments, we have one at five tomorrow with a mixologist.”
“For our signature cocktail? That is the one wedding errand that sounds fun.” Cassie didn’t say anything; she just gave me a small smile.
“Cassie, is something bothering you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
I sighed. “Didn’t we talk about this already? If something is bothering you, say it. Don’t hold it in and then blow up at me later.”
Cassie didn’t put down the knife; instead she used it to gesture again, this time toward me. “You want to know what’s wrong?”
“Yeah. And I’d also love for you to drop the knife.” She narrowed her eyes into little slits, but didn’t do it. What just happened? She was fine and now she was pissed? Mood swings out the ass. Had I knocked her up again?
“Here we are, cooking dinner and drinking wine while our son plays in the next room. We’re talking about our wedding like it’s normal and…and…real. But it’s not, is it? We aren’t a couple. We aren’t really engaged. You don’t really want to marry me. You do, however, want to touch me and kiss me and hold me. I told you before, Dec, I can’t handle it. I can’t do the physical stuff with you and keep it separate from the emotional stuff. I tried.” She dipped her chin. “You need time to work through your emotions, that’s fine. But if you get time, then I get space.” She pointed to the door with her handy-dandy knife. “Go check on our son. Brice’s attention span is shorter than Wyllie’s.”
I stood and left wordlessly. Because, hell, what could I say?
She hit the nail on the head.
And she was right. If I wanted time, then she sure as hell deserved space. I was a selfish bastard, not keeping my hands to myself. I smiled as I walked toward the sound of Eminem coming from the living room. She may have handed me my ass back there, but she’d done it with her shoulders squared and her head held high. She’d done it with honesty and strength, and that’s all I’d ever wanted from her.
“Really, man?” I stopped short when I saw Brice and Wyllie.
“I’m not cussing. Marshall Mathers is. And he raps so fast, Wyllie can’t even hear the bad words.”
“I’m not talking about the song. Why are you both naked?” Brice and Wyllie were both down to their skivvies.
Brice shrugged. “I don’t know. The song came on and Wild Man took off his shirt, so I did too.”