Mancave (Wild Men 3)

“Yeah, Tati. What is it?” She places her fists on her hips and smiles at me.

“Why are you dressed up? What’s going on?” I glance around us. “Is there a photographer lurking around? Are we having a surprise party?”

She frowns. “Surprise party? No, not that I know of. Why?”

“You’re all… dressed up.”

Her mouth opens and closes.

Then she laughs. “Oh, that? You only just noticed?”

Warmth seeps into my face. “Well, yes. What’s going on? You’re… Mom, are you dating someone?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. I know I’m kind of old for that…”

“What? No. Mom, I don’t think that.”

She’s young. She had us young. She’s barely forty. “Who is the guy?”

“A neighbor. Mr. Nelson.” Color rises to her cheeks. “Paul.”

Oh my God. Mom is blushing because of this Paul. Never thought I’d see the day. It feels weird. A bit emb

arrassing. I mean, it’s my mom, and she’s blushing like a schoolgirl. She’s dating someone.

But that’s just my daughterly hang-up.

“I’m happy for you.” I catch her hands in mine, those callused, hard-working hands that look much older than the rest of her. “I hope he makes you happy. Don’t let him…” I swallow hard, flashes of Jasper Jones and Ross going through my mind. “Don’t let him hurt you, Mom, okay? If he doesn’t treat you right, you walk away.”

Her eyes fill up. “Okay.”

“You deserve only the best,” I whisper, and hug her. “The best in the world.”

* * *

“Can’t wait to see Ashley baby,” Mom says as she sets up the table on the veranda. “I don’t see her often enough, or Shawn baby, for that matter.”

Mom for some reason decided to decorate the names of Hailey’s kids with the ‘baby’ tag. She says, if asked, that it’s to differentiate them from others, but what others? Not like we have any other Ashley or Shawn in the family.

I dread to find out what she’ll be calling mine.

A honk from the street sends us crossing the house to the front porch. Hailey’s car is parked right in the front, and I go down the steps to greet her. She smiles at me from behind the wheel.

“Heya,” she says, and kills the engine. “Long time no see.”

That’s true. “We should meet more often.” I wiggle my fingers at the kids in their baby seats in the back. “Hey, guys.”

Shawn waves back, his smile uncertain. His hair is dark, falling straight like a curtain over his forehead. So cute. Ashley is facing backward, in her super baby seat, and can’t see me. Her small head bobs like an apple in a bucket.

So funny.

Hailey gets out of the car and together we get the kids out. She takes Shawn who is heavier, and I pick up Ashley who weighs practically nothing.

I bury my nose in her blond curls. Why do babies smell so good? Like milk and sugar and powder.

Mom leads the way to the back, and we sit in the comfy bamboo chairs with the big flowery cushions. I bounce Ashley on my knee, and Hailey places her chair strategically to prevent a hyperactive Shawn from tumbling down the steps to the garden.

She’s so pretty. She’s like this urban goddess, with her chic haircut, the highlights, the tall, curvy body. I’ve always felt like a little girl beside her.