Page 22 of Harts & Hurts

I fought to keep a straight face. “You’re right. And I damn sure don’t need you showing up at the studio, threatening the women that work there. I don’t need you putting a tracker on my truck or stalking my socials. I’m not trying to wake up to you giving me head. We should keep it platonic.”

“Definitely.” She agreed.

10

Anistyn

Friday morning, I woke up before the baby. That gave me time to brush my teeth, wash my face, and shower in peace. I still did it quickly, hoping to be done before she woke up, but it was nice to do it without her in the bathroom with me.

Apparently, she must’ve woken up while I was still in the shower because, when I came into the room, only wrapped in a towel, Griffin was leaning over her crib. “Good morning,” I told him.

He glanced at me quickly, then turned back to Melrose. “Good morning. If you give me her clothes for the day, I’ll get her ready while you get dressed.”

“Okay.” I checked to make sure that the towel was secured and was covering everything, then I crossed the room to the dresser. Melrose didn’t have much to choose from. While Griffin and I had been wise enough to ask to have her nursery packed up and shipped to his house, we hadn’t specifically asked for her clothing. All she had was the outfit she’d been wearing when she was delivered to my mother, the few things that were in her baby bag, and whatever my mother and Griffin’s mother picked up when they had her. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then handed it to him.

He took it but made an indecipherable noise with his mouth.

“What?”

“This is crazy. I have enough clothes to fill ten closets, and my niece has six outfits she keeps repeating? I can’t do this shit. Do you think you could go to the mall or up on Lockhart Boulevard? They have shops and shit up there. I’m sure they have something for babies. Just buy the entire damn place out. She needs options. I’ll give you a card.”

I fought to hide the smirk on my face but lost. “A four-month-old baby needs options?” I teased. I wasn’t against her having a full wardrobe. It had never occurred to me that Griffin would care. “You know she’s gonna grow out of this stuff in a matter of weeks, right?”

He shrugged. “We’ll donate it. I’ll write it off for taxes and buy her some more shit. All I know is that if I have to see her in the formula-stained ass shirt with the big red ladybug on it one more time, I’mma crash out.”

I roared with laughter.

He chuckled too. “I’m serious. All the shit from . . . wherever it’s from, with the weird, silky-ass material? I can’t stand it. My niece deserves 100 percent cotton. Why can’t my niece have cotton? All these polyester blends and fabric that’s probably 99 percent chemicals and 1 percent fabric. I ain’t with that. Let’s get her some real clothes. Check the labels. Make sure it’s a fabric from nature—linen, cotton, silk. Hell, I don’t know. I just . . .” He let his thoughts trail off.

I smiled at him. “I get it. I was trying to wait for one of the payments from the trust they set up for her to come through. Speaking of that, I probably need to reach out to the attorney and see where we are in the process.”

He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “She won’t need that money for her daily care and needs. Uncle Griff got her. We can bank that money for when she goes to college or something. I got dough. I’m not hurting, and I don’t have the patience to wait. Like I said, I’ll give you a card. Buy whatever she needs. Okay?”

The look of concern—his eyebrows being scrunched up and his mouth turned down—was so cute that I couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, Griffin. I’ll go crazy.”

“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “I spoke to the builder that Cameron suggested for the remodel. His name is Kept Boudreaux. He built the house fifteen years ago. He’s gonna stop by this morning and give me the name of a general contractor and some trades that he recommends. Hopefully, we can get on somebody’s schedule by next week.”

“That sounds good.” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Now, as much as I would love to stand here and talk to you all day, I would also like to get dressed.”

He smirked. “My bad. I forgot you were in your towel.” The look in his eyes assured me that he absolutely had not forgotten I was still in my towel.

“Bye, Griffin.”

He finally left my room, carrying a fussy Melrose in his arms. She was hungry. I could tell by the way she was acting. I mentally patted myself on the back because I was starting to learn my niece and pick up on her clues.

I dressed, styled my braids, and right before I was about to head out to the kitchen, my phone rang. The name flashing across the screen was my eldest sister’s, Amberlyn. She was five years old when I was born, and we had never been very close. She liked Ashlynn, growing up, but she never seemed overly fond of me. She tended to ignore and leave me out frequently enough that I developed a knack for entertaining and playing by myself. Once Amberlyn entered middle school, she dropped Ashlynn for a circle of newfound friends, and Ashlynn turned her attention to me. We became close. She was the only sibling I ever felt close to.

“Hello?”

“Anistyn, hey.”

“Hey, Amber. How are you?” It sounded so stiff and formal, but I didn’t know how else to be with her.

“I’m . . . okay. How are you? How is Melrose? I’ve been thinking about you all. Hoping everything is going well.”

“We’re good. Melrose is doing well, . . . considering. We’ve hired a newborn care specialist who comes by the house and teaches us to do the things that we don’t know how to do.”

“We? Who is we?”