Squared Away (Out of Uniform 5)

“Does she even know?” Mark was still struggling to make sense of his conversation with Daphne.

“Yeah.” Isaiah frowned. “She does. But she’s five. It’s going to be a process. Tomorrow is going to suck. Not sure how she’s going to react.”

Me too. Hell, Mark wasn’t sure how he was going to react. And that made him bristle, made his skin go tight and itchy. He didn’t like unknowns, didn’t like not having a plan. And really, really didn’t like relying so much on Isaiah. Isaiah with the casual attitude. Isaiah with the easy touch with the girls. Isaiah who was too darn good-looking for his own good... Yep. He was going to need an Isaiah-free plan and soon.

Chapter Five

“Well, that’s over.” Aunt Louise let out a sigh that made her ample chest shake. The post-funeral gathering had dwindled down to just a few people. They’d taken over the fellowship hall at the large church where Danielle and Cal had been nominal members, the same one that hosted a preschool Zoe and Daphne went to. Church members and families whose kids went to school with the girls had provided yet more food for the family and close friends who stayed post-memorial service.

Next to Aunt Louise, Aunt Cecily was holding a sleeping Liam. Zoe too was asleep, passed out after chasing other kids for most of the afternoon, missing her usual nap. Isaiah had tucked her up on a couch in the back of the room, having thought ahead to bring her special blanket in the diaper bag.

“I’m heading out,” Isaiah’s father walked over, suit still impeccably crisp even as everyone else was looking decidedly rumpled. “Louise, do you need help getting back?”

“Of course not. You go on now. Get some rest before your flight.” Despite both living in La Jolla, his father and the aunts had driven separately. His father wasn’t one to often have the patience for carpooling.

“Isaiah.” His father nodded at him. There wouldn’t be a goodbye hug between them, hadn’t been for years now. “Did you find an appropriate nanny?”

Oh, how to unpack that question. One, the assumption that Isaiah shouldn’t be doing all the childcare work himself. Two, the implicit question as to whether Isaiah could in fact discern “appropriate.” And three, the always lingering doubt as to whether Isaiah was up for any given task. His father had expectations, and Isaiah seldom met them.

“I’ve got it handled,” he said at last.

“Professor Randle emailed me. Told me they’re finalizing fall research fellowships. You’ll want—”

“Dad. I’ve been a bit busy.” Thinking about his abandoned master’s degree was hardly what he wanted to do on that day of all days.

“Just think on it. You’ve got to think about what’s best for the whole family now.” His father stared him down, all those expectations and assumptions compacted into a laser-like glare.

“I am.” Someday. Someday he and his dad would have a real conversation again, one where he got over Isaiah dropping out of the master’s program.

“He’s a good boy.” Aunt Cecily smoothed things over, as usual. “Doing a good job with my grandbabies.”

His father had a kiss on the cheek for her before he finally took his leave. Isaiah settled back into his seat when another hand landed on his shoulder.

“You want me to take Daphne back with our girls? They can play, and you can get a break?” Isaiah’s friend Dylan came up to him and the aunts with the twins in tow. They were a little older than Daphne, but the girls had played together well.

“Nah,” Isaiah said. “I’m expecting a giant meltdown at some point soon, and I don’t wish that on you.” Daphne had been subdued at the service, hiding on Isaiah’s lap, and he supposed that was to be expected. Mark had said last night after dinner that they should look into grief counseling for the girls, and it was probably a good idea.

“Okay. But playdate next week, maybe? Or you could just drop them off? Anytime I can help, just let me know.”

“Playdate sounds good.” Isaiah yawned. It had been a long day.

“You get the lawyer meeting set?” Dylan asked in a low voice. He was in the process of adopting his stepdaughters, so Isaiah had been peppering him with questions the past week while they’d waited to get word to Mark. Now that he was back, the lawyer had set the meeting for the day after tomorrow. The lawyer would hopefully have the next steps Isaiah needed to take to apply for guardianship.

“You’re sure about this?” Aunt Louise asked. “I told you, we could maybe take the oldest one—”

“We’re not splitting up the kids,” Isaiah said firmly. “I’ll manage.” He’d been saying that so much the past week or so that he was actually starting to believe it. “And you’re busy. Just promise me you’ll come visit often. And bring pecan bars.”