“Topher can help,” I told Reuben, “but just FYI, I fired him last night and if you knew he was crashing in my apartment upstairs and didn’t tell me, we should have a talk.”
Topher waved his hands. “Reuben had no idea. I was sneaking back in after they closed up for the day.”
Reuben laughed. “I like this kid, but not enough to risk my job for him.”
I bumped fists with Reuben. “Good man.”
Topher followed Reuben back to the kitchen and grabbed an apron on his way.
Once he was out of sight, Tamara sipped from her son’s mug. “I swear, he’s an eight-year-old trapped in the body of a man.”
“What? You don’t start your day off with a fizzy mug of root beer?”
She took another sip and smirked. “You might just be a pretty great dad one day,” she said.
I clutched a hand to my chest. “I’m sorry. But did you just compliment me?”
“I wouldn’t call it a compliment. More like a potential compliment.”
I leaned back in my chair, letting it balance on the back two legs. “That’s fair.”
“But maybe you should get that tooth fixed before the baby comes. It’s really making your face even more of a horror story.”
“Your love is so warm,” I told her, and then after a moment, I added, “I’m sorry.” It was probably the sixth time I’d apologized since she got here. “Not just as Topher’s uncle,” I told her. “But as your brother.” I let my chair rock forward again on all fours. “Winnie and I... I don’t know. I don’t know what we are. But she said something to me that hit me really fucking hard. She said she wasn’t ready to count on someone who also wasn’t ready to be counted on.”
“Wow,” Tamara said. “I gotta mentally bookmark that one.”
“I feel like I’ve been kind of moving through life haphazardly. And sometimes I do shit that seems harmless, but nothing ever happens in a vacuum, does it? Everything affects something, and I think I’m starting to realize that sometimes being a grown-ass man means owning up for the shit you caused, but especially the shit you didn’t mean to cause.”
“Big lessons for a big boy,” Tamara teased, but her voice was kind as her hand settled on top of mine. “Now what’s all this about you not knowing what’s going on with Winnie? Because you’re having a baby together. That’s what.”
“I think she loves me in her own way. But I don’t think she wants the life she would live with me. I don’t know. Or maybe she just saw straight through me for the giant dope I really am. I mean, I make pizza for a living.”
“Okay, enough with the self-deprecation. I hate hyping you up. It literally makes my skin crawl, but I will do it to remind you that you’re a Grammy-nominated artist who has more accolades than I can count. You’re a successful businessman and a good son and good brother. And I might gag saying this, but the ladies appear to be... fans. She would be lucky to live a life with you, Kallum.”
“That’s sweet of you—”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “Because here’s the other side of the coin. You’re both about to be parents. You think you’ve been tired or confused or frustrated before? Just wait until you’re trying to heat a bottle on thirty-six minutes of sleep in forty-eight hours and working the bottle warmer feels like doing trigonometry. I want you and Winnie to be happy—and maybe even together, but the truth is: the two of you have to figure out a way to parent through whatever problems you’re having. When it comes down to that baby, it doesn’t matter if you two are trying to untangle feelings and history. You still have to find a way to communicate as adults about the real tangible things that matter. Doctor’s appointments. Insurance. Day care. The fucking texture of baby poop for goodness sake!”
“Insurance,” I said with a snarl. But she was right. Winnie and I had a lot to figure out. But one thing—one incredibly simple thing—we both knew. In just a few short months, we’d be parents. And whether we were living in romantic harmonyor trying to coparent from two different states, we were about to have a brand-new, life-altering priority to consider.
I wanted to be everything for Winnie. The man she leaned on in every situation. But I would show up in whatever way she’d have me. So I’d give her time and space... when it came to us.
But our child? Give me some New Balance dad sneakers, a grill, a Home Depot credit card, and call me Dad.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Winnie
You’d think medically prescribed bed rest would have been awesome. But alas.
It was not awesome.
Instead of finally living my dream of sleeping all day without guilt, I was staring at the walls of my childhood bedroom—the pink of my teenage years now replaced with some expensive-looking Farrow & Ball shade of green—and thinking about how much I missed Kallum Lieberman.
I missed his smile and his deep laugh. The small hitches in his breath whenever I did the smallest thing: took his hand or kissed his cheek. Bit my lip.
I missed how easy he made the world to be in, how comfortable and happy he made the people around him. Where I’dgrown up terrified of being too much for someone—anyone, the entire world—he’d seemed to seetoo muchof anyone as a good thing. Like handfuls of candy at Halloween or piles of presents at a birthday party. As if everyone should be more of themselves.
