So when she tells me over and over again that she can’t keep doing it all herself, I know she can’t. I know things have to change.
Knock, knock, knock. The thud resonates in my office and I clear my throat before telling Maggie she can come in.
With both fists on her hips, she stands in the doorway, her hair swept into a wild bun on top of her head.
“Yeah?” I question, noting that her apron must’ve just come out of the dryer. Either that or its brand new. Eric did say we needed new ones; did he order them?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Maggie’s head tilts with her question and her dark eyes narrow. “Your mother will have a fit.”
My wife will too. I keep my comment to myself, my lips thinning into a straight line as Mags crosses her arms.
Behind her the chatter from the bar is barely heard, but the clanking from the kitchen and a laugh from James lets me know the bar is in full swing.
“Are you sure you’ve got this--”
“All taken care of?” she finishes my question for me and then tells me to get lost and go have some fun.
“Alright then. I was just leaving.” Letting the stack of papers fall back onto my desk with a dull thud, I check my back pocket again and then grab my keys.
“Tell Cheryl I said hi,” Mags tells me and then turns, but quickly turns back, her hand on the door jam and asks in a hushed voice, “Is she pregnant again?”
Ooh how this small town loves to whisper.
“Have a good night Mags,” I answer her, well not so much answer as shut her down, with a grin and scoot past her.
The new equipment in the kitchen makes the old oven look even older. It’s the only thing back here that hasn’t been updated. I make a mental note to ask Eric about that too.
Too many changes, too many moving parts to keep up with now that the bar has expanded. A sigh leaves me and the keys in my hand jingle.
Time to see my wife, the thought brings a smile to lift my lips up until I see the time.
Shit.
I love Grace so damn much and I want to be the husband she deserves and the father my son needs.
GRACE
“I cannot believe it’s been a year,” Ali leans back in the plastic lawn chair, the front legs slipping up in the thick green grass of Cheryl’s backyard. “It’s crazy,” she murmurs.
“It’s been one wonderful year though,” Cheryl replies, lifting the water bottle in a mock cheers to Ali, who in turn lifts her pink vodka lemonade cocktail up and the two women wait for me.
“Cheers to that,” I join in, balancing the punch I have in my left hand with the bouncing baby in my lap steadied with my right. Little Dean. “Happy Anniversary Ali,” I add sincerely.
“Almost a year for you too!” Her smile broadens and she taps the paper cup on the table before lifting it back up for another drink.
I opted for the punch, thinking it wouldn’t be as strong as what Ali’s drinking. She was already a little tipsy when we got here at a quarter to 6. It was my mistake though. Joseph must’ve poured an entire bottle of rum into that bowl.
Another sip and my eyes squint. I’m going to have to be careful when I pour this red concoction into the grass and then I’ll have what Ali’s having.
“Yes, all the summer anniversaries,” Cheryl squeals, holding her belly and searching across the yard for her little girl Evie, who’s squealing joyfully and chasing bubbles from a bubble machine. My mother-in-law, Cheryl and Ali’s mother, is watching Evie. She offered to watch Dean too and snuggle with him, but he needs to nap first. Resting his head on my shoulder, the sigh is audible and he goes into his routine of that little hand holding on to my thumb as he nestles down.
“Velcro baby,” Cheryl whispers and it makes me smile. Ma, as my mother-in-law told me to call her, gets my little man during the day every day practically, so this nap is mine. All the snuggles.
“Yeah it’s all going according to plan,” a familiar voice speaks over my shoulder. I glance, along with Ali and Cheryl to see both Eric, the manager at my husband’s bar, tall and lean with dirty blonde hair and soft wrinkles around his eyes from too much time under the Atlanta sun and next to him, my husband.
As handsome and charming as ever. His broad shoulders show themselves off in his simple white tee, stretching the thin fabric that puts his biceps on display. Almost a year of marriage and a sleepless 3-month old hasn’t changed the spark between us. Maybe the honeymoon phase is waning but I think that’s because both of us work far too much which leaves little time for just the two of us. They’re going over business more than likely. With a deep breath in, I continue rocking Dean, who’s nodding off to sleep, completely unaware that his father is just behind him. If he knew, he’d shoot right back up and fight off sleep just to look at his Daddy. He loves his father, he should after all, he looks just like him.
“Do you even want to know what time it is?” Ali asks under her breath practically shooting lasers out of her eyes at Charlie.
“We knew he’d be late,” I comment half-heartedly. I can pretend it doesn’t get to me, but he’s missing so much of Dean’s life. His first appointments, his first smile, which happened when I showed little Dean the picture of Charlie hanging from his mobile before trying to get him to sleep in his crib.
“We’re both tired, just trying to balance it all,” I give the excuse to Ali although I can’t look her in the eye and opt for another swig of that punch.
We’ve been working so hard we barely had a Christmas, a New Year… any holiday at all. I suppose that’s what happens when two workaholics get together.
“Almost a year since my shotgun wedding and I don’t think he’s shown up on time to a single thing since then.”
That gets a laugh from the gaggle of women around the table under the white tent. The fresh scent from the gorgeous bouquet of hydrangeas engulfs me as a decent breeze blows by. It’s a little on the too-warm side for a July evening, but the company makes it all worth it. The spiked punch and the shade from the tent don’t hurt either. Even if the rum is already hitting me.
“Shotgun schmotgun,” Aliana comments. “You were swept away in a… what do they call it?”
“A whirlwind romance,” Cheryl answers with her hand splayed over her heart and a faraway look on her face. She’s such a romantic.
I don’t want to admit it, but sitting here now, thinking about that honeymoon phase, maybe some of that spark has faded. Too busy to… well to get busy. It used to be that he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. I still want him though. I still love him… even more now than before.
“And this little one is already such a big boy,” Cheryl gratefully changes the subject and my mind focuses on what she said rather than what I was thinking.
“You have lost your mind. Dean is only 3 months old. Keep my baby a baby, Aunt Cheryl.”
“Time is flying isn’t it?” The women reminisce and my worries come right back.
CHARLIE
Over the span of 20 minutes and after only sneaking a peck on the cheek to both my son and wife, both of my brother-in-laws have come to the same conclusion.