“Oh, okay.” My eyes flickered to the tray of unwanted food. I didn’t want to leave, but I also didn’t want to overstep. Selix was his friend. I wouldn’t barge my way into Elder’s life and displace him. I’d had my time playing nurse. I wouldn’t be greedy. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He moved toward a chair by the window and pulled out his phone. “Have some business to take care of—repairs on the Phantom, plans going forward, etcetera. Need the peace and quiet.”
I understood the dismissal. “Thanks for being there for him. I know he appreciates it.”
Selix’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with mine. His lips parted to say something, but he waved a hand as if to say it was no big deal even though his tension said it was a very big deal. “Don’t need to thank me. He’d do the same.”
“I have no doubt he would.” With a grateful smile, knowing Elder wasn’t alone, I headed downstairs to spend the rest of the day with women instead of men.
* * * * *
“You can hold him if you want.” Tess looked up as I gawked at the effortless way she dealt with a squirmy baby.
She’d just finished changing his diaper on a blanket in the lounge, redressing him in a yellow onesie with a giraffe on the front. A messy, thankless job and one that, for once, didn’t make me crave to be in her shoes with a bouncy baby boy.
He might be small but oh my God, the mess he made…eww.
For a moment, her invitation didn’t register.
I continued to stare as she managed to hold him even as he turned into an octopus, doing his best to slither out of her embrace to grab the dog’s tail.
Twilight had arrived, signalling a foreshadowing end to this strange, simple day. Not an hour had passed when I didn’t look at the ceiling and wish I could go to Elder. But no matter how much I missed him and became desperate to know how he was, I didn’t climb the stairs out of respect for Selix.
Elder was in his capable care. I shouldn’t worry. I should enjoy the chaos of domestic bliss and hang with two women who juggled family, real estate empires, and charities as easily as if they were an army of staff and not just two people.
We’d retired to the lounge where multiple dogs played, taunting Lino to crawl after them. He’d squeal in joy if one bowled straight into his tiny body while playing tug of war with a litter mate, then burst into tears if they stole his afternoon biscuit snack, caking his chubby fingers in canine slobber.
His range of tiny emotions varied from one extreme to the other in a matter of seconds, yet it didn’t faze Tess and Suzette. Lino’s noises were just life sounds and not distractions as they achieved tasks in a way I’d never seen. They did paperwork with one hand, discussed a charity dinner party and fundraiser next week, then switched to investment topics on properties in Southeast Asia.
At the same time, Tess would grab her son’s hand and wipe away dog germs, prepare new menus with Mrs Sucre, and still find a way to talk to me in the mayhem.
We’d discussed everything normal women would: what I’d done for work and school before I was taken. What my parents were like—and offered sympathies when I mentioned my father’s death. They enquired after my favourite food and drink. Favourite season. Favourite thing about Elder.
And once we’d stumbled onto the subject of men, we stayed on it for a while.
I’d learned snippets about Q and Franco from sources that knew them better than anyone. I’d giggled at things most men would be horrified to know their significant other’s had shared and became enlightened on more than one sex act that I might or might not have the guts to ever try with Elder.
So by the time Q stalked into the lounge and gave Tess a broodingly heated look, I no longer cursed him for what he’d done to Elder or feared him for his personal tendencies but saw him in a gentler light. His gruffness and clenched jaw didn’t scare me because I knew he flat out adored his wife and baby and nothing made someone more human than that.
“Piiiim? Earth to Pim. Did you hear me?” Tess waggled Lino my way. “Did you want to hold him? You’ve been watching him all day.”
Watching, yes.
Cataloguing, yes.
Learning how every day exposure to different stimuli helped evolve humans from wriggling carpet larvae to walking, talking, capable species.
But touch him?
Hold him?
Feel his heavy baby weight and smell whatever shampoo Tess washed him with?
No.
I can’t.
Right now, I could study him the way my mother would. The way any student of psychology would—as a separate entity, granting fascinating boundless entertainment. An exhibit, for lack of better a word.