“Yeah, remember when I told you about my therapist telling me to use colors for how I’m feeling?”
Oh, I did remember that.
“Gray is like... going through the motions. It’s not horrible, but it’s not happy either. You’re just... existing. Does that sound right?”
“Actually, yeah. I guess these last few months have been gray. I’m looking forward to better colors.”
He leaned his head against mine for a split second. We both flinched away at the same time, as if we realized that we couldn’t do that anymore.
“Me too. I think I could consider today a yellow day.”
I shifted away to look at him.
“What’s yellow again?”
“You decide what you want the colors to mean. Today I think yellow means hope. I’m tired of this rut too. I think it’s time to start moving on.”
I blinked. He nodded and gave me a small smile. I relaxed and smiled back. We really would be okay. In time.
“Oh no, she threw up,” Lola called from the other side of the table. I leapt up to go attend to the baby. She wasn’t crying, but Lola was holding her out in disgust.
“You were bouncing her too much,” Rosa complained.
“I was not.”
“It’s fine, baby’s do that. She’s okay.” I lifted Cara out of her arms and reached for a burp rag. “Ooh, that was a gnarly one,” I chuckled as I started to clean her up. She was going to need a new onesie.
I grabbed her diaper bag and brought her back down to the floor on her blanket to change her. She wiggled her chunky little arms and legs as I dressed her in something clean. She was smiling brightly at me as I lifted her back into my arms and hugged her to my chest. My own mouth turned upward as she coo’d in my ear. I loved her so much.
I was looking around and my eyes settled on Ronny’s. His normally cold, harsh eyes when Cara was involved were much softer, almost interested. We stared at each other for a long moment before he gave me a small smile.
“Alright, bring over the tike. Let me see what all the hype is about.”
Gleefully I passed her to him. I was hopeful that if he came around about Cara, he would understand why our relationship wasn’t right. Me, Cara, and Tate were meant to be a family. Not, Ronny and I.He took her gingerly and held her out with caution. Cara stared at him with interest. Her eyes large with wonder.
“Wow, okay, I take back the potato comment. She looks just like Tate. That’s insane.”
Cara made a gurgle in response that he took as a happy one. His small smile turned into a goofy grin as he brought her to his chest and cradled her in his arms. My heart sighed. There was something so incredibly attractive about a tattooed man holding a baby. I didn’t think Ronny had a soft side, but here he was, making silly faces at the smiling little girl in his arms.
I watched on as Ronny played with Cara. He made noises and tickled her tiny feet. Cara ate up the new attention. She loved him.
“I can’t believe how bright her hair is. It’s like Tate copied and pasted himself. And those eyes, oh man. She’s going to be gorgeous just like him too,” Lola sighed.
I smiled at her comment. I agreed heartily.
“It’s crazy how genes work out like that. Rocky and I have the same mom but he’s the only one who looks like her,” Rosa added.
“Yeah, but you guys have different dads,”I added.
“Still, you’d think I’d get something from her. I’m just saying, genes are weird.”
“I know, look at all of the Andrew kids.” Lola pointed at me and I blinked. Me?
“Aunt Cleo has brown hair, brown eyes, and is a little tan. How did they all come out pale as ghosts with black hair and blue eyes?”
We all had a good laugh at that. I wondered that myself sometimes.
“Why is your diary out here?”
