“I’m sorry, but he needs to stop using his broken heart as an excuse to be rude as fuck,” she fires back. “I’m tired of it. And if he acts like that at yoga next week, I’m gonna pants him in front of everyone to teach him a lesson.”
Rhonan clutches his stomach as he laughs. “Oh, fuck. Please do it anyway.”
“Does that mean that you’re going to participate this time?” I ask him, knowing his aversion to yoga.
“Fuck no. I told you, I’m not bending over in front of people for fun.”
“It’s because you’re afraid to fart, isn’t it?” Elodie interjects, making Laney snort.
Rhonan glares at his sister before looking over at Elodie. “No, that’s not it.”
“It’s okay to fart, Rhonan. You don’t have to be ashamed if you’re an abnormally gassy person,” Elodie continues, making Fletcher break this time.
I’m also fighting to keep my composure.
“I’m not afraid to fart,” Rhonan counters a bit too defensively. “I just think yoga is dumb. It’s not challenging, and…”
“Oh, you’re afraid to be shown up by a bunch of girls and your friends.” She nods. “Got it.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Yoga isn’t impressive, and I can do other things that don’t involve showing my ass to a bunch of strangers.”
“So, it is the fear of farting then.” Elodie reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers. “It’s okay. This is a safe space, right everyone? We accept you even if you can’t contain your flatulence.”
And now, we all lose it, laughing uncontrollably while Rhonan’s face grows red. “It’s not about farting,” he says, standing and tossing his napkin on the table, stomping off in the same direction that Elliot went.
I lean over and kiss Elodie as everyone else is still laughing. “God, you’re something, Elodie Olsen,” I whisper to her as her eyes shine with amusement.
“Yeah, Henley Clark. You sure are something too.”
***
“Hey, baby bear.” Elodie lifts Remy in her arms before kissing her cheek and squeezing her to her chest. “Gosh, I missed you.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek too. “Yeah, little one. It was really weird without you.”
Carol clears her throat, reminding us that she’s still there. “She was great. Slept well, enjoyed our walks in the stroller, and I can see a little tooth getting ready to cut through her gums on the bottom.” She pulls down Remy’s bottom lip to show us.
“Jesus, already?”
Carol rubs my shoulder. “They grow up fast, Henley. Ask me how I feel seeing you as a father?”
When my eyes meet hers, a sadness overwhelms me. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes or the tone of her voice, but it’s one I’ve never picked up on before. She sounds like a mother—my mother—or what I always imagined hearing something like that from my mother would sound like—that reverence of watching your child grow older and become their own person, a combination of pride and sadness.
My eyes move back to my daughter as I watch her smile at Elodie.
My daughter will never have that with her own mother either. Elodie’s love is the closest thing she’ll get.
God, I wonder if she thinks Elodie is her mom?
Clearing my throat, I focus back on Carol while my heart beats roughly behind my sternum. “Well again, I appreciate you and Nick watching her for us.”
“Anytime. How was the trip? The game sure was a nail biter.”
“Yeah, Fletcher’s last catch secured the win for them, but he was irritated they didn’t win by more.”
“We had such a good time, though,” Elodie interjects, glancing my way as her cheeks burn bright pink. She has to be thinking of last night if she’s blushing like that.
Carol catches it though, smirking up at me with an arch in her brow. “Is that so? Glad you enjoyed yourselves.”
