Walker studies me a second longer before moving his focus to the remainder of his coffee. “Probably better that she goes then.” He takes a sip before attempting to rip the rug out from under my feet. “Before you decide it does matter how you feel.”
I grab the carafe from the coffee maker and top both of us off before taking the seat next to him and returning the favor. “You ever wonder what life would be like if shit hadn’t happened the way it did?”
I don’t have to explain what shit I’m talking about. We both know what I mean.
Walker takes a sip of his fresh coffee before shaking his head. “No.”
I would have answered the same way two weeks ago. Not now.
“There’s no point in wondering. It’s done, and there’s no going back.” He downs the last of his coffee. “All we can do is learn from it and move on.”
“Is that what you think we did?” It’s a question I’ve been sitting with more and more often. “Because I’m pretty sure neither of us has done anything close to moving on.”
Our methods might look totally different, but Walker and I have been living with the same goal—to make sure we didn’t go through the same kind of suffering again.
In the end, we’ve just ended up suffering in a totally different way.
Shoving the stool back, he stands abruptly. “Maybe you didn’t move on, but I did.” He turns, coming face-to-face with Ruth and a very bedraggled looking Birdie.
Ruth looks from me to Walker before giving him a hesitant smile. “Good morning.”
He tips his head in a sharp nod. “Morning.”
Out of everyone in my family, Walker’s the only one who’s been immune to Birdie’s charms. I’ve never seen him so much as look her way. But right now, he doesn’t have that option. She’s less than a foot away and giving him a sleepy smile, her hair a messy halo of curls.
Walker tenses as she leans toward him, like he’s afraid she’ll bite. Biting should probably be the least of his concerns. If anything, he might want to block his nose.
But Birdie doesn’t try to touch his brain though his nasal passage. Instead, she essentially flings herself at him, shifting her weight so abruptly, Ruth can’thang onto her.
Walker has two options. Watch Birdie hit the floor, or catch her before she falls. And since he’s not a piece of shit, his hands hook under her little arms, scooping her up mid air. But instead of propping her on one hip or tucking her into the crook of an arm, Walker just stands there, holding her in front of him, Birdie’s little legs dangling. She grins at his frowning face, swinging her limbs with glee.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling.” His scowl holds. “You almost ended up with a concussion.”
Birdie manages to get one arm out in front of her, pointer finger stretching as close to Walker’s chest as she can get it. She bats her lashes at him, a little dimple peeking out of her chubby cheek as she says the single word that could take my cousin to his knees. “Uncle.”
Walker narrows his eyes, working his jaw from side to side. After a few seconds, his shoulders sag on a loud sigh. “Godammit.” He shifts his grip on her, scooping Birdie into his side as he turns my way. “What are we feeding this thing for breakfast?”
28
Ruth
“You guys do this a lot?” I shift around, getting comfortable on one of the luxurious sofas tucked into the corner of Tobias and Brooke’s pool room.
Actually, calling it a pool room feels like I’m doing the space a disservice. It’s a huge, soaring space with a wall of windows running up each side and French doors that open out into a gloriously landscaped yard across the back. Sunlight streams through large skylights, and a waterfall spills over one side of the elevated hot tub into the deep end of the curving, salt-water pool. Gorgeous tile work serves as the deck and large potted tropical plants fill every corner. It’s insanely stunning. Even nicer than the pool at the luxury hotel where I used to work.
Just thinking about work has a pit forming in my stomach as Brooke explains their bi-weekly girls’ night schedule to me. I want to listen—I do—but in truth, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m not going to be here to partake in any more nights like this.
A fact that has my stomach’s pit growing wider and deeper.
“Unfortunately, when we have girls’ night here, it usually gets crashed by the boys.” Maren sucks down amouthful of the blended piña colada Brooke whirled up at the kitchenette built into one corner of the space. “They pretend like they’re not bothering us while they splash around the pool acting like idiots.”
“Don’t lump all of them into your name-calling.” Mariah stretches her legs out on the chaise she claimed immediately upon arrival. “Titus is an angel.”
Maren angles a brow, the slant so high half of it disappears under the sweep of her bangs. “The last time we hung out here Titus pantsed Tucker.”
I nearly choke on my own swallow of fruity, creamy, coconutty goodness. “He pantsed Tucker?”
Maren nods, giving Mariah an I-told-you-so style smirk. “Yup. We all got an eyeful.” Maren elbows me with a knowing grin. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
