Love Will (70 page)

“Shut up, Will. Why would you say that?”

“Because tonight it felt a little like a, uh… a spiritual passing,” I tell her with a grin.

“You should just say
that
next time
.
” She presses her lips against my chest. “I like that much better.” She traces my collarbone with her tongue. “Just tell me when you’ve been reincarnated, or whatever.”

“Yeah?” I ask her.

She looks up at me and lines my bottom lip with her thumb. “I’m not finished welcoming you home yet.”

“God, I love coming home.” I run my hand down her body and move her leg over my hip, then reposition myself.

“I think you’ve already been revived,” she says, cocking her head.

“You saved me, Shea. You always do,” I whisper to her. “I love you.”

Chapter 30 – Two years later

After securing the diaper in place, I dress Hampton in the clothes Shea had set out for him. He only protests a little when I try to put on the pants.

“Yeah, I’d be pissed if they made me wear corduroys, too, little guy. Who’s doing your shopping? Did your daddy buy you this? I bet your daddy bought you this. I bet you have loafers to wear, too, don’t you?” I look in the bottom of the diaper bag and pull out a pair of tiny, brown loafers and shake my head. “I know your daddy. Didn’t I tell you last night when I was singing to you? I know your daddy. Fucking loafers… sorry.
Damn
loafers.”

He laughs at me and squirms away as I tickle his belly and pat him on the bottom. “Where’s your guitar? Let’s jam. Go get your guitar.”

His eyes light up in recognition, and he looks around the room until he finds his purple plastic instrument. He does his nineteen-month-old version of running to get it, and then brings it to me.

“You’ve got this!” I tell him, pressing one of the buttons and letting him hear the sound. He claps his hands. “Your turn.”

Hampton takes over from there, playing a song that must sound awesome to his untrained ears, because he’s laughing like a fool right now, happier than I’ve ever seen him. I get out my phone and take some video of him, getting a close-up of his long, blonde bangs that hang over his eyes like the rock star he could someday be–minus the corduroys, loafers, and the name.
Hampton
. It’s so pretentious, and it doesn’t suit the kid at all.

Peron assured us all a nickname would rise to the surface, but none ever did. All the women love the name Hampton, so Hampton it is. I don’t know what nickname he’d have. Tony? That doesn’t really fit him, either. He was named after Peron’s elementary school music teacher. My friend credits her with saving his life. In the fourth grade, he’d started hanging around some rough kids. His parents both worked two jobs, and he had too much idle time on his hands.

Mrs. Hampton held him after choir practice one day because he’d been disruptive. She asked him to dust, organize, and put away all the instruments, so he did–after he did a little experimenting with them all. He liked the keyboard and the banjo the best, and asked if he could come back the next day. That was the beginning of his music career, and over the years, as he watched his old friends get expelled from school, get arrested for grand theft auto, and get gunned down in a drug deal gone bad, he knew he owed her his sincere gratitude.

“Woof!”
Sniff sniff
. I look at Gunner to see his tail begin to wag quickly, but he stays in his poised “sit” position just beside the apartment door like he was trained to do. That means someone he knows is approaching on the other side of it, and since the doorman didn’t call up, I know it’s my mother. I’d told him I was expecting her.

“Good boy, Gunner,” I say to him, patting him on the head as I open the door. He remains seated, still as a statue. Hampton runs over to me, and I pick him up before he tries to escape into the hallway. “Hey, Mom.” She’s still five paces away. I don’t know how our dog can pick up the scent of people the moment they step off the elevator, but he can.

“Hi, Will. Hello, Hampton.” She hugs me and kisses Peron’s son on the cheek. “Where’s my grandpuppy?” she asks, waving a toy squirrel in her hand.

“Where he’s supposed to be. You don’t have to bring him presents every time you come here. Release, Gunner.” The excited wagging of his stumpy tail at the sight of my mother makes his whole body move, and he happily accepts the toy she gives him, as well as the scratches behind his ears.

“He’s my only grandpuppy. Let me spoil him like I want to,” she says. “Now let me see this little guy.” She takes Hampton from my arms and hugs him tightly, but he starts to fuss immediately.

“He just wants to be free, Mom,” I tell her, making sure she’s not offended that he’s shirking her affection. “He likes to run.”

“He’s a boy, what can I do?” she asks. “All three of you were just like that. Max let me hug him a little longer. Was he good for you this morning?”

“Perfect, yeah. Didn’t give me any trouble. He ate all of his food… only threw a little at me.” I look down at my shirt to point out the evidence. “He took a nap and let me sleep a little more after Shea left.”

“What time did she leave?”

“Five-thirty, I think.”

“So early.”

“She has to open the restaurant. She owns the place, you know.”

“That should mean that she can have people do that for her.”

“It’s her baby right now. Someday, maybe she’ll trust other people to do that. Not today.”

“Maybe when she has
another
type of baby…”

“Don’t you start with me.” I glare out of the corner of my eyes, but smile when I do it, so she knows I’m not angry with her. “That’s why we have Gunner. Sit and give Nana kisses, Gunner.” Mom leans over as my Airedale sits politely, licking her exactly three times on the cheek. “Good boy. Release, Gunner. I need to shower,” I tell my mom.

“That’s why I’m here. I’ll let Hampton run amok. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Shea said he might need a snack before we go. There are some options on the island.”

“Okay.”

Gunner follows me into the master bedroom, happy to go wherever I am when my girlfriend isn’t home. If she’s here, though, I may as well be back in Abu Dhabi. He definitely has a favorite. Since I adopted the dog for her, though, I don’t mind. He made her feel safe while I was gone, and she finally got rid of the handgun. I didn’t ask her to. She did it on her own around the time that Peron and Hampton moved in next door.

So maybe Peron moving in added another layer of safety. It put my mind a little more at ease, too, even though he’d go away a few weekends a month to play with Damon while his parents watched his little boy. That was all the time he could commit to the band now that he was a single dad.

He’s now the band accountant–and ours, too. It’s what he went to school for, so his parents are happy he’s putting his degree to good use.

Before I get into the shower, I go back and lock the bedroom door. Our bathroom is state-of-the-art, with a walk-in shower that has walls on two sides, glass on another side, and no door. The last time Hampton stayed with us, he wandered away from Shea, somehow managed to open the bedroom door with the assistance of one of my shoes, and walked right into the shower with me, fully dressed. I wasn’t even paying attention until he started wailing, obviously surprised by the downpour of hot water he wasn’t expecting. Shea cried for an hour, worrying about what sort of horrible mother she’d be.

We had no idea he could open doors, and our handles
clearly
aren’t baby-proofed. He’s not tall enough to do it himself. He’d never done anything like that with Peron. He’s raising a curious little Einstein.

If Gunner had followed me, it wouldn’t have been a problem. He would have blocked the entrance, because he just sits and stares while I bathe myself. “
That’s
not creepy, Gunner. Not at all.” I finally tell him to go to his bed, which he does.

When I’m dressed, I grab my Martin and help to get a few of Hampton’s things together. “Is there enough room in Shea’s restaurant for all of us
and
her patrons?”

“It’s a nice day. She’s reserved the patio.” I grin.

“Well,
this
isn’t going to draw a lot of attention. On the corner patio of a busy Manhattan restaurant?”

“It’s just a little get-together,” I say casually, knowing it will turn into a circus once everyone gets there and word gets out. “It’s called good business, Mom. My girlfriend’s a genius.”

“Much like you are. That’s why you two are perfect together.”

“I know.”

“Peron’s meeting us there?”

“Yeah. The new girlfriend is meeting Hampton for the first time.”

“So it’s serious…” I nod my head. “I hope she’s good enough for him.”

“I like her. I think Shea really likes her, too. Let’s go. I’m sure people are already getting there.” I put Gunner’s harness and leash on after getting Hampton settled in his stroller, which he clearly doesn’t want to be in. Once the dog’s at his side, though, and walking down the hall with us, the little boy seems happy with the situation.

Two blocks from our building is the restaurant Shea was able to buy with money she made from selling the baby food business to investors who were able to take her fresh, organic concept national with multiple regional operations. Now, she’s the head chef and owner of
Ms
. Livingston’s Kitchen. She cooks healthy versions of everyone’s favorite, home-cooked meals–pot pie, included–and there’s typically a line to get in every evening, which is rare for a place that doesn’t even serve alcohol. It was a risky decision, but she wanted to make sure my mother felt comfortable having dinner there any night she wanted to. Because the restaurant’s so busy, her take-out service got so popular that they started doing delivery nearby about three months ago.

My mom and I move past the ropes designating the reserved patio space where my oldest brother is just coming out from the main restaurant.

“Congratulations!” Jon says, squeezing me so tightly, I swear I feel the bruising in my ribs that I got in that fight from over two years ago.

“On what?” my mom asks.

“I got the invitation yesterday for my doctoral convocation in May. No big deal.”

“So they approved your thesis?”

“Well, yeah, Mom,” I say as if it should have been obvious to her they would. It
should
have been.

“It’s a
big deal
because no one at NYU has ever done anything like this in the time frame he did it in, Mom,” Jon cuts in. I roll my eyes and shake my head, sloughing off his accolades. “And the research he did was ground-breaking.”

“And he got a bonus at Perihelion because of it,” Shea says as she sneaks into the conversation. “Hey, Doctor.” I give her my full attention and kiss her like I haven’t seen her in months, even though it’s only been hours. Gunner starts to whine, jealous of her affection for me.

“Shea and I are taking a vacation to some place tropical,” I tell my family. “I’m going to collapse on a beach and sleep for a week.” I’d never worked so long or so hard on anything in my life, but my mind was actively calculating, computing, hypothesizing, wondering, doubting, and never-resting until I presented everything overseas last week.

“The hell you are,” my girlfriend says, putting her fingers through my hair.

“Obviously, we have some details to iron out. Is Peron here?”

“Not yet.” She squeezes my hand before she goes back inside. Even though she’s officially taken the day off, she told me last night she wanted everything to be running perfectly while my friends and family were here.
Our
family, I’d corrected her, and she agreed quickly. She had spent far more time with them over the past two years than I had and loves them as much as I do.

“Oh, but I see Livvy and the girls. Hey, Hampton… you want to go play with your girlfriends?” He’s already trying to break free from his restraints, so my mom helps him out while I go and give my nieces big hugs. I sit down and listen to Edie chatter about a turtle she insists she saw on the way to the restaurant while I cradle Willow, my Goddaughter, into my chest, rocking her back and forth.

“She didn’t see a turtle,” Liv whispers to me. “There were no turtles.”

“Maybe she has imaginary turtles. Who are you to thwart the creative mind?” I ask her.

“I’m not,” she says. “Millions of turtles. All over. I’m just sick of hearing about turtles.”

I laugh at her.

“Where’s Gunner?” Edie asks.

“Gunner, come.”

“Gunner, come!” she shouts as the dog comes to us.

“Shhh… not so loud. There are people eating just inside there, okay?” I say to my nearly three-year-old niece, pinching her cheek playfully.