Summer Son (12 page)

Zane nodded, and I showed him how to hold the bottle so the little airflow bit was at the top. He settled back on the couch with the first Harry Potter book, and I turned away, back to my computer, as if this could hide the fact that I was falling in love.

Meg was online. Her icon popped up in my chat window.

Hi
, she wrote.
Is Zane there? I tried to call him earlier.

Yeah
, I replied.

Thought so ;)

He’s reading to Harrison right now. Do you want me to get him to call you?

FUCK. ME.

What?

This I need to see. Turn on your webcam.

Fuck off.

:D

I decided to ignore her and opened my e-mail to start reading through all of the information she’d sent me about the new project. It was difficult, mostly because I was still concentrating on the soft, soothing sounds of Zane’s voice. No one should sound that good saying “Dumbledore.”

He read through to the end of the first chapter, but the telltale signs of Harrison slurping at his bottle stopped long before that. I turned around slowly. The book and the half-empty bottle were on the arm of the sofa, and Harrison was sleeping in Zane’s arms.

“Do you want to take him?” he asked.

“No, I’d wake him up. Are you okay to put him to bed?”

He nodded, although hesitantly, so I followed him through and showed him how I usually settled my baby down. Before he could leave, I tugged him into my arms.

“Your reading voice does things to me,” I said, keeping my voice low.

I felt his lips stretch into a smile against my neck. “Does it?”

“Yes. I might need you to read me a bedtime story of my own.”

“Ellis, it’s, like, seven thirty.”

“Good. I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He let me tug him through to my bed, pin him there, and show him all the reasons why I wanted him to stay.

I was almost asleep when he shifted in my arms, turning from the easy, comfortable spooning position I liked so that we were nose to nose.

“Ellis?” he whispered.

“Mm?”

“Can I paint you?”

“What, now?”

“No. Sometime.”

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Can I paint Harrison?”

“Yes, Zane.”

“Okay.”

I
NSTEAD
OF
calling, like any normal person, Meg came over to tell me about the meeting arrangements. Which meant she found Zane in my apartment early in the morning, eating pancakes, wearing pajama pants that were way too big for him, watching cartoons on the computer with Harrison.

“This is all very domestic,” she said with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile.

“Hi, Meg!” Zane called from the sofa. “Say hiya to Auntie Meg, Harrison.”

Harrison’s head popped up comically over the back of the sofa, and he grinned at her.

“Oh my God. He’s got teeth! When did he get teeth?”

“They cut a little while ago,” I said. “Little bastard has been chewing on my fingers ever since.”

“Does he talk yet?”

“Not any language I understand. But he’s trying to walk. And he can pretty much stand up on his own, as long as he’s holding on to something.”

“Fuck me,” she said. “I can remember when you brought him home from the hospital.”

“I know. They grow up fast.”

“Do you want to stay for breakfast, Meg?” Zane asked. “I can make more pancakes. They’re banana-blueberry.”

“Thanks, but no. I have to get to work. The meeting is next week, at my office. You need to look sharp. I’ll text you once I’ve got the room booking.”

“Cool.”

“Have a nice day, boys,” she sang before sweeping back out of the apartment on her sexy red shoes. Zane followed her soon after, needing to run for his bus to get to his class on time because he spent too long kissing me good-bye.

That left Harrison and me on our own for the next couple of days. Zane had studio time booked to get some work done on his project and wanted to work late into the night. I was going to work late too, getting all my current projects done and sent off so I was ready to start again.

With Harrison awake and wanting attention, that wasn’t so easy.

My temperament had always leaned toward calm and in control. That was important, especially when I was carrying a lot of muscle. I didn’t want to be the guy in the bar who snapped and knocked someone out.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Harrison got on my last nerve.

He’d been sweet as pie with Zane, playing nice and eating his breakfast. Then, as soon as Zane left, he turned into a monster. He didn’t want to sit still and screamed as soon as I moved away from him. He didn’t want to play, and he didn’t want to watch cartoons. He definitely did not want to nap. It was too much to ask for the happy child who liked to sit and play with his toys while Daddy got some damn work done. He didn’t want my time, but he didn’t want me to give it to my work either.

He screamed for ten minutes solid while I packed up my laptop and strapped him into his stroller, where he kicked me in the knee, then cried when I swore. I was prepared to kill whoever thought baby Timberlands were a good idea.

Sometimes taking a walk was good for both of us. I got to clear my head, and he got to calm down. Sometimes it meant me looking like a terrible parent because I was ignoring my baby, who wanted anyone other than me to soothe him. That wasn’t true. He wanted Zane to soothe him.

We made a lap around the park, which was fairly successful in getting him to stop screaming, although I wasn’t about to let him out of the stroller and so avoided the playground. Since it was close by, I headed for the cafe when we left, hoping someone I knew was working the counter.

Lupe looked ready to give me hell, as was her normal way of showing affection, but stopped when she got a decent look at me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming out from behind the counter even though the other waitress who was working looked busy.

“I’m okay,” I said. She pulled me into a hug, and I squeezed her tight. “Your hair smells like cinnamon.”

“The sooner Naema gets back the better,” she said darkly. Then, to Harrison, “Hey, sweet boy. You want a cookie?”

The protest was halfway out of my mouth before I could catch it and take it back. If the kid wanted a damn cookie, I’d let him have one. At least he wasn’t screaming anymore.

Harrison blinked at Lupe and gave her his best “poor me” expression, which involved watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip. He did it well.

“What’s up with the smiler, then?” Lupe asked as she headed back behind her counter and blatantly let us cut to the front of the line. I tried to ignore the scowls behind me.

“He’s pissed because Zane has a class and can’t stay home and play.”

Lupe snorted inelegantly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Poor baby.”

“Poor me! I’ve got work to do.”

“So you brought him here?”

I sighed and tried to give her money for the cookie, which she refused. At least she gave him the oat variety, rather than the double chocolate, although I was sure there was plenty of sugar in both.

“The plan was to get him to calm down, then take him home and try again.”

“I’ve got a break coming up,” Lupe said. “Get your laptop out, and I’ll watch him for a while.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I’m just going to sit down and eat something anyway.”

“I could kiss you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay.”

Lupe left Harrison in his stroller and loosened the straps so he could wriggle around. He seemed much happier since she’d given him the cookie, proving that even when a kid is the fussiest eater in the world, they’ll cave when it comes to things that are bad for them. I wasn’t taking him to McDonald’s, though, even when everyone around me swore he would eat french fries. Not on my watch, he wouldn’t.

I fired up my laptop and pulled up the last project I needed to finish. It really wasn’t much, just final touches, but it needed my full attention. It took a while for me to settle down and get into my work. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Lupe—she was an old friend—it was just strange to let anyone other than a very select few people watch him for me.

In less than an hour I was ready to send the project back to the agency, and I sat back in my seat, only then noticing the mug of coffee someone had left at my elbow. It was lukewarm, but I drank it anyway.

“How’s it going?” Lupe asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Harrison, playing some kind of peek-a-boo game.

“I’m done, I think. Or as close to done as I can be.”

“Great.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this,” I said as Lupe got to her feet.

“I’m your friend, Ellis,” she said gently, reaching out to touch my arm. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

S
INCE
I
had Meg’s business meeting to go to, I pulled out my one good suit from the dry cleaning bag where it had lived for the past six months. At least that meant it was clean.

I’d always found black too severe for me and gray too officelike. When I’d decided to invest in a suit—a proper tailored suit—I’d made the radical decision to go for navy blue. It looked good with a really crisp white shirt, and for some reason I could get away with not wearing a tie.

Zane whistled at me when I walked back into the living room to collect my laptop and notes.

“Thanks,” I said, blushing and hating it. “It’s always nice to be objectified.”

“You look gorgeous,” he said and came over to kiss me. “And you’re going to be great.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to stay here with him?” I asked, not for the first time.

He rolled his eyes at me, which I probably deserved. When Meg gave me the date for the meeting, I asked my mom if she was free—which she wasn’t. Of course. Since retiring she had a fairly full social calendar and would often rearrange things to help me out, but this appointment couldn’t be moved.

Zane immediately offered to watch Harrison for me, and I appreciated it, I really did. But I’d never left him alone with my son for so long, and I was being a nervous parent. It was allowed.

He’d gotten up early to go to class and made it back with loads of time before I had to leave. I’d checked and double-checked everything and couldn’t think of anything I’d missed. Still, I was nervous.

“You’ll be late if you don’t go soon,” he said, and I nodded, kissed him and Harrison, and left.

I needed to take the car to drive over to the main offices, then find somewhere to park it, which made me think I should have taken the subway after all.

Meg had already sent me all the details of the project, so there weren’t exactly surprises as we went through the finer points, apart from the fact that the client kept trying to bring deadlines forward. I could see a lot more late nights in my future, working my ass off to get things done.

That was fine. The contract was good, the pay was better than good, and I wouldn’t have to worry about bills for the next few months and beyond if I landed the bonuses. The clients offered to take Meg and me out for lunch. I politely declined, citing another meeting rather than childcare as my excuse. In general, people didn’t take well to knowing I was a single parent. Apparently it meant I was less trustworthy…. Stupid, but easier not to give them the ammunition.

Meg was busy too, so she couldn’t go out with them, and we all exchanged serious handshakes at the door before Meg dragged me off to her office’s coffee bar.

“So, how do you think it went?” she demanded after ordering a skinny latte.

“Good,” I said and fumbled with my portfolio as I tried to reach my wallet. She batted my hand away and paid for mine. “It should be interesting, actually. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Lots of work,” she said. We took the elevator down to the first floor so she could sign me out of the building. “Lots of late nights.”

“I’m used to those.”

She laughed and shooed me out the door. I waved, deciding kisses were inappropriate since we were at her office.

It had only been a couple of hours, but I was anxious to get back home. Zane hadn’t called to tell me of any disasters; he hadn’t called to tell me about anything. I could assume that meant everything was fine. Worrying was second nature, though.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded as I walked into the apartment.

Zane was stretched out with his back in the corner of the couch, his legs extended, with a baby sleeping softly on his chest. My baby, to be precise.

“We were taking a nap,” Zane said, yawning, with emphasis on the past tense. He put a loose hand on Harrison’s back, steadying him as he stretched his other arm up over his head. Harrison didn’t stir.

“To get that child to nap, I have to drug him,” I said, dropping my portfolio on the coffee table, then crossing to give Zane a light kiss. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Zane insisted. “We listened to some music, had some warm milk, smoked a bowl…. I’m joking, El.”

“I know.”

“You want him?”

I shook my head. “He looks comfortable. You both do. There’s no point in waking him up.”

Very carefully, Zane ran his hand up and down Harrison’s back, soothing him, and I felt my heart float a little further away from my grasp.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Good,” I said and shrugged out of my suit jacket. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but it’s a good contract. And it should be fun, if I can ever find the time to actually get into doing it.”

“Well, clearly I’m an excellent babysitter,” he said with another yawn.

Since he was taking up most of the sofa, I sat down in the chair and pulled Zane’s sketchbook from the table.

“Can I look?” I asked.

He nodded.

I flicked through to the most recent pages, the ones dated today. He’d drawn Harrison.

I tried to be objective as I looked at the drawings of pudgy arms, hands gripping a block or the edge of Rory’s tail. Zane’s skill was immediately apparent, even if the sketches had a rough, quick look to them.