Pieces of Him (20 page)

“But you just threatened to do bodily harm.”

“No. I just said I’d make it so he can’t come near you. There are lots of ways to do that without ending up in jail.” He smirks.

“This isn’t funny.” My hands wrap around his biceps, giving him some of my weight. “I really don’t want my problems to affect you.”

“Well, you chose to be with that kind of guy, babe. Your problems are my problems, and if I can fix them, I’m going to.”

“I love that you think that but-”

“No buts, it is what it is. The sooner you accept that, the better. I’m not letting that motherfucker mess with you.”

I’m just about ready to argue with him, but the sound of Xander crying from the other room interrupts me.

Max turns, glancing to the time on the clock. “He shouldn’t be up now.”

“I’ll go check on him,” I tell him. Stepping up to him, I give him a quick kiss on the lips needing to end the conversation on a high note. By the time I make it to Xander, his crying has gotten more intense.

“Hey, handsome,” I coo softly as I pick him up and snuggle him close. I start to head over to the rocking chair but stop dead in my tracks when I rest my cheek on his forehead. Immediately, I note that he feels hot, too hot to be normal, and my stomach drops. “Shh, it’s okay, Xander,” I whisper, trying to soothe him, hoping that it will help him to stop crying. I can’t help the feeling of panic and fear that comes over me at the thought of him being sick. I’m at a loss for what to do next, so I practically jog into the bedroom. When I get there, Max is up and out of bed before I’ve even made it through the door.

“I think he has a fever.”

“Give him to me,” he says taking Xander out of my arms and putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “Shit.”

“What do we do?” I ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, totally in over my head.

“I don’t know. He’s never been sick before.” He starts pacing the floor slowly, gently rocking Xander as he goes. I can see he’s trying to figure out what to do, but I can tell that he’s scared. Even more than I am.

“Should we call the pediatrician?”

“No.” He stops abruptly and comes to stand in front of me. “There’s a thermometer in his room, we’ll check his temperature and see how high it is.”

We don’t waste time; both of us break out in a mad dash for the nursery. I turn the light on and Max heads over to the changing table where he has shelves set up underneath filled with things that I’ve never even noticed before. He pulls out a temporal thermometer; I’ve seen the nurses use them on some of the elderly people at the center. He turns it on and runs it along Xander’s forehead.

“It’s one hundred point two.”

“That’s high, right?”

“I don’t know. I have Infants’ Tylenol in here. We’ll get a dose of that in him and then I’ll call the pediatrician,” he says calmly, way more calmly than I thought he’d be. How is he this cool when I’m falling the fuck apart? “Here, you hold him for a minute and I’ll get him the medicine.”

He transfers him into my arms, and I note that he’s stopped crying now. The fact that he’s starting to calm down sends a rush of relief through me. Rocking him back and forth, I hum a lullaby while Max figures out the dosage of medicine. I watch as he carefully feeds it to Xander then follow him back to the bedroom where he picks up the phone, calls the pediatrician’s service, and requests a callback. I carefully maneuver myself onto the bed and lay down with Xander snuggled close to me. Max’s eyes are on me as I do this, and when I finally get settled, he gets in too, Xander between us, his little hand gripping my shirt.

We lay there, neither of us talking, both of us with our eyes on this baby. I let myself register the feelings that I’m experiencing … fear. I feel such an overwhelming fear in me of something happening to him, of something being wrong with him. What I realize next is that I feel that fear as a result of the love I have for him. This scares me most of all because when I examine the love I have for him, it’s more than just the love of a babysitter, or a family friend, or a distant relative. No. My love for this little boy runs much deeper than that. It’s not my place to feel like this, I know. I know Xander has a mother …
had
a mother, but it doesn’t change what my heart is telling me.

Xander’s asleep, still snuggled up to my side by the time the phone rings. Max picks it up, puts it to his ear, and walks into the living room so he can talk without waking him. Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab the thermometer and take his temperature again so he can give the doctor an accurate reading in case she asks. I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see that the fever has broken.

“Yeah, I’ll take it right now,” I hear Max say as he comes back in the room.

“Ninety-eight point nine,” I tell him; he nods and walks back out into the living room. With nothing left to do but wait, I relax into the mattress, rest my head on the pillow, and focus on Xander again. I study his features, really study them trying to pick out the similarities to Max and decipher what he got from his mother. I can still kind of picture her in my mind’s eyes, how happy she seemed, the bounce to her step. She was probably so excited at the prospect of being a mother, of meeting her son. It guts me every time I think about it, makes me feel guilty that I’ve gotten to see how he’s grown over the last five months or so.

Guilty that I’m the one who got to witness him rolling over for the first time.

Guilty that I’m the one helping Max take care of him when he’s sick.

Guilty that he’s clutching onto me as if I’m a lifeline.

Mostly, I just feel guilty for loving it. All of it. For hoping that one day, if I’m lucky, if Max and I go the distance, that he’ll think of me as his mother. Guilty because I know that if she were here right now, I wouldn’t get that chance.

“She said we should just watch him overnight, keep giving him the Tylenol, and if it goes over one hundred and two, take him to the hospital.”

“Did she say what’s causing it?”

“She said it could be viral or he could just be teething.”

“Okay.”

He flips off the light but turns the television on and mutes the sound, using it as a night light. He slides an arm under my head when he gets in the bed; he uses his free hand to feel Xander’s forehead and stroke his cheek. My eyes start to burn with unshed tears, and I don’t know why seeing him do this hits me the way it does. It’s just such a loving gesture, and it’s beautiful to witness because Max has come a long way in dealing with his feelings for Xander.

“You’re a good dad.”

“I didn’t even know what to do when you told me he was sick. It scared the shit out of me.”

“Are you serious? I was completely panicked. You thought of everything. It took you a second, but in the end, you knew exactly what to do.”

“I think over the past few months I’ve been preparing for something like this. I’ve been reading a baby book, the whole time thinking it was stupid, but I actually remembered what it said.”

“It’s because you’re his primary caregiver. Usually, the mom does all this stuff, but you’ve taken this all on by yourself and you’re doing amazing.”

“I’m glad you were here.”

“Me too. I …”

“What?”

“I just, I love him you know. Every day, I look forward to seeing him smile at me.”

“Why was that so hard for you to say?”

“Because I don’t want to overstep a boundary.”

“Why would there be a boundary to you loving my son? We’re together, and we’re solid. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t feel something for him.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to take her place.”

“She has no place, baby. She’s gone and nothing you or I do or say can change that. I want this relationship with you to work. I really care about you, and if, in the process, I can give something good to my son, then I’ll be fucking thrilled.”

The stupid stinging continues, but I refuse to cry. He just said everything that I didn’t know I needed to hear. All those little doubts about my place in their life have magically dissolved with just a few words from Max.

“Still pissed at you for lying to me about that asshole calling you.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever. Don’t ruin this moment.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Already talked about it, Max.”

“I’m buying you a new cell phone tomorrow, with a new fucking number, just to make sure he doesn’t call you again.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“Fine.” I huff as a show of exasperation when really I love the fact he wants to do that for me. That he would go out and buy me a new phone just so he can be sure Garrett can’t reach me.

He glares at me for a moment, but I swear I catch the side of his mouth tipping up in what would be a smile if he didn’t fight it. He wipes it from his face and just lays his head back on the pillow.

“Go to sleep, baby. I’ll stay up and keep an eye on Xander.” I want to tell him that he should sleep or that I’ll stay up with him, but for some reason, it seems wrong. He’s coming into his own as a father, and I don’t want to question him or do anything that might make him second-guess himself.

“Okay,” I whisper just before I close my eyes. It doesn’t take me long to drift off, and when I do, I do it contentedly knowing that both of my boys are with me.

Max~

It’s hot as fuck out tonight, and I’ve never been so happy to leave a job site. I pull into the parking lot of the sports bar where I’m meeting Jack. He called me this morning and asked me to meet him for a beer after work. Emelia’s with Xander so I don’t have to rush home. He turned eight months old last week, and in that time, he’s learned to crawl and pull himself up to stand in his crib. Emelia swears he’s going to be walking before his first birthday.

Emelia has become more and more part of our everyday life. I think she’s keeping her apartment for shits and giggles because she’s never there. Whether she realizes it or not, she lives with Xander and me but she’s just slow on the uptake. I can’t say it’s all her, though; it’s not as if I had actually bit the bullet and asked her. Regardless, she’s happy with me. I can see it written all over her, and her happiness is infectious. When I think back, I don’t think I can remember a time when I’ve ever been truly happy. Now, I’m happy. I’m happy because of Xander and Emelia and, at first, I didn’t know what to do with that, but over time, it’s gotten easier. I can still be an asshole … just ask Emelia, I’m sure she’ll agree.

I spot Jack as soon as I step foot in the bar, sitting down at the far end nursing a beer. I take the empty stool next to him and signal the bartender for a beer.

“Been here long?”

He jerks a finger in the direction of his half-empty glass. “Still on my first beer.”

“You plan on having more than one?”

“Probably not,” he says with a chuckle. “How’s everything going at home?”

“Good,” I say taking a drink from the beer that was just set in front of me. “Gotta come by to see the kid. He’s growing fast.”

“And the girl you told me about?”

“Emelia. She’s good. She’s really taken with Xander, and she’s great with him.”

“I’m glad for you. I knew you’d be okay when all that shit went down and you lost Keri.”

“I’m glad you knew. I was sure I was going to fuck everything up.”

“Well, you’ve come a long way from there.”

“Thanks,” I mutter before taking another sip of my beer. Having enough of the heart to heart shit, I lead the conversation in another direction. “So did you ask me here to talk about my life or you got something to tell me?”

“Got something to tell you,” he replies cryptically. He’s doing it to piss me off; he knows how much I hate when people beat around the bush. I’m a get to the point type of guy. I let out an exaggerated breath and give him an eye roll.

“That would be?”

He takes his time, looks around the bar, takes a sip of his beer, and takes an eternity to swallow the shit. “I want to make you a partner,” he says bringing his attention back to me. I’m floored. Out of all the things I’d expected him to say, that was not one of them. I thought maybe he wanted to ask me to take on extra hours or that he was being cool and giving me a raise or something.