“We’re out of our depth, Nash,” she admits.
“We always were,” I reflect.
“You’re leaving in six weeks? Zac wanted six weeks.”
I rub the back of my neck as I give a long exhale. “I don’t know, probably. I can’t think clearly.”
Summer picks up a toy block that was on the floor within reach and begins to toss it between her hands. “You’re bound to get close with Bo, so whatever you plan on doing, just remember you need to follow through. Don’t just be an uncle for six weeks, play the long game.”
I hold my palm up. “I understand.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t trust you. We just need to look at history to know that you won’t commit, and you always find a reason to stay away. But Nash...” Her warning turns sharp. “This isn’t me. It’s Bo, an innocent baby who is oblivious to life’s heartaches. So don’t you dare run away again.”
I lift my nose slightly. “Are you really just talking on behalf of Bo?” I challenge, because underlying, she could mean her too.
She grumbles, clearly annoyed or wanting to escape thetruth as she is quick to scramble to her feet. “Discussion over.”
I have my answer.
A few hours later,Summer and I haven’t really crossed paths. Only when she showed me how to handle a diaper and bottle did she actually construct a sentence around me. When pizza came, she gobbled down a slice, and we again focused on Bo who makes a mess when tomato sauce and melted cheese are involved. Then again, he can’t eat the crust yet.
Still, despite dinner, I’m searching the fridge, not exactly sure what I’m looking for. I’m restless and on edge that I’ll run into Summer.
My theory is proven correct when I hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching the kitchen. Sighing, I close the fridge and prepare myself to see the beautiful woman that’s tormented me for years, and it’s all my fault.
Flicking my eyes up, I see that Summer slows her step, and her face shows caution, yet it’s gentle. Why does she have to wear an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that displays the curve of her bare shoulder?
“Hi.”
Folding my arms against my chest, I lean against the counter. “Hi,” I reply.
Her fingers twist the hem of her shirt. “I’m not sure what to say to you when Bo isn’t around. You and I have an edgy relationship to say the least.”
Glancing to the side, I do my best to gather composure. “Well…” I click my tongue in my mouth.
A long silence feels as though we could take a knife and slice it.
Summer rolls her eyes. “Great talk.” She’s not impressed, and I’m unsure if it’s us or me. Frustrated, she turns to pick up a dirty bottle with aggravation. Her insistence to use glass baby bottles is not the best of ideas because as she twists to head to the sink, she drops it and glass shatters on the floor. “Shit.”
I’m quick to take a few steps and lean down at the same time as her. She’s already picking up little pieces which makes zero sense as she will need a dustpan and brush for sure. Her movements are as sharp as the shards of glass.
Placing my hand on the back of her palm, she stills. “Slow down,” I whisper. At last, her eyes swing up to pin her face in my view, but she says nothing. I can’t help it. That little scar, it’s part of her for life. “Does it hurt?”
She understands what I mean. Her lips press together. “No.”
Licking my lips, I drop my head down and pick up a big piece of glass. “Who the hell still uses glass baby bottles?” I attempt to make a joke, but she’s in no mood.
“A normal person who just decided that life is already a little fucked up, so might as well add a fragile baby bottle that’s a pain to carry around as it leaks. But hey, points for me for finding the funny little things in this living arrangement,” she counters.
Here we go.
“Why are you always so feisty?” I wonder.
Her death glare is a bullseye to my chest. “I’m only this way with you.”
“Lucky me.”
She’s quick to keep this debate going. “It’s not my fault my mouth has a mind of its own around you.”
