The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue 2)

Bell’s Mary Janes click-click-click as she runs up and attaches herself to my leg. “She was surprised! Did you see?”

“Yeah, baby.” I smooth my hand over her hair. Amelia looks between us expectantly, as if she’s waiting for me to say something. “I’m going to take off,” I tell Bell. “I’ll come back to pick you up in a bit.”

“You have to go?” Bell asks.

I pray against the odds that she won’t melt into a tantrum. The last thing I need is a roomful of women judging my parenting. “Yes, this party is girls only. I’m not a girl.”

“But . . .” Her hands curl into my jeans.

“I’ll be right next door with Uncle Nathan.”

“Hello, Bell,” Amelia says, touching the pendant around her neck. “Nice to see you again.”

“Amelia,” I warn. “Don’t.”

Bell looks up as if she hadn’t noticed anyone at all. “’Mila?” She releases my leg to face her. “What’s that?”

Amelia releases the locket suddenly, as if she hadn’t realized she was playing with it. Her fingers are stiff. “It’s . . . a necklace.”

“I know,” Bell says irritably, “but what kind? It looks old.”

“It is.” Amelia curls her hand against her chest. “I just found it in storage. I haven’t had a chance to clean it yet—with silver, you should really take care of it, have it polished . . .” The thin skin of her throat ripples when she swallows.

Bell’s eyebrows are wrinkled. Because she doesn’t give two shits about how to care for silver. Amelia has no idea how to talk to children, which should bother me, but I’m more captivated by their awkwardness.

“I hear it’s your birthday tomorrow,” Amelia says. “My dad gave me this locket on my tenth birthday.”

“What’s a locket?” Bell asks. “Can I see?”

Amelia hesitates before she reaches behind her to remove it. She squats, her back straight as a rod. I doubt she’s ever bent down to anyone else’s level before. “You put a picture inside.”

“Inside? How? Can I open it?”

“The clasp is a little tricky—” Amelia starts to undo it and thinks better of it. She hands Bell the necklace. “Go ahead. You try.”

Bell fumbles with the small, oval pendant while Amelia obviously restrains herself from interfering. Finally, Bell pops it open and gasps. “Wow. Is that you?”

“As a baby,” Amelia says.

“I love it,” Bell decides. “I want one with my picture.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait a few more years. Until you’re old enough.” Amelia glances up at me. “If your dad says it’s okay.”

I have to look away. I want to be angry, like I am when Denise tries to get to me through Bell. It doesn’t feel like that’s what Amelia’s doing, though. She doesn’t know how to connect with Bell, and I’m not sure she even wants to—but she’s trying. For me.

Bell gives back the necklace and takes Amelia’s hand. “Come on. I’ll take you over to say hi to Aunt Sadie.”

Amelia closes her eyes for a brief second and then stands. “Please,” she says to me under her breath. “I didn’t know I wanted this. I’m sorry that I do, but I’m also not.”

“Come on, ’Mila,” Bell whines, pulling Amelia’s hand. “You can go, Dad. We’ll be okay.”

Amelia keeps her eyes on me. “Tonight, my door is open for you,” she says. “I hope you’ll walk through it.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Nathan sips his club soda and sets it on the bar with a sigh. “Thank God that’s done. I don’t know what I was thinking planning a baby shower in the first place, and then I had to go and make it a surprise.”

“You were thinking it would make her happy.” The loving look on Sadie’s face when she stepped onto the terrace said it all. “And you were right.”

“I’ve been feeling helpless,” he admits. “She’s going through everything that comes with pregnancy—swelling, heartburn, mood swings—and I’m just over here fumbling through.”

“I know that’s not true. Sadie told me she’d have lost it a long time ago if it weren’t for everything you do for her.”

He smiles a little, looking over at me. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Sadie hadn’t exactly said that, but her eyes twinkle when she tells me about how Nathan brings home whatever she’s craving without her even asking. And how he spends hours researching cribs online. I take a drink of my Coke. “Look at us. At a bar drinking sodas. We’re pathetic.”

“I promised Sadie from now on I’d cut out alcohol. Show of support. She misses her wine.”

“And I have to drive back to Jersey tonight, which wouldn’t have stopped me from having a beer or two in the past.”

“And then Bell happened,” he infers. “We’re whipped by our women.”

I lean back on the barstool. “I’d say so.”

“We must be crazy to bring another one into the mix.”

I glance over at him, tilting my head. Nathan is more observant than I give him credit for, but for once, he’s wrong. Despite the fact that Amelia and I weren’t very discreet just now, he seems to have missed the fact it’s over between us. “Actually, Amelia and I aren’t . . . we’re done.” I nod behind us. “That’s what all that was about at the hotel.”

Nathan raises his eyebrows, no doubt sensing the lack of conviction in my tone. I don’t mention Amelia’s invitation. Do I want to go to her, let her put a Band-Aid on this with a bath, whisky and sex? Yes. I still want her. But it doesn’t change the fact that when she freaked out, she turned away from me when she should’ve done the opposite.

Finally, Nate says, “Ohh. You mean Amelia.”

“Yeah. Why? What other woman are we bringing into the mix?”

“Your niece.”

“Niece?” I ask. “But I don’t have—unless Sadie . . . but she doesn’t know the sex. Does she?” I widen my eyes and leap off the stool. “Dude. Are you telling me you’re having a girl?”

Nathan laughs loudly enough to turn a few heads. “Did you not notice the entire party was pink?”

I think back to the setup, which was disgustingly girly—because it was for a bunch of women, I thought. Now, details set in—the fact that the lace tablecloths and satin bows were the color of bubble gum. “I figured that’s just how baby showers were.”

“The cake said ‘It’s a girl.’”

“Oh.” My chest tightens at the thought of a baby girl, and it’s not so disgusting anymore. It’s fan-fucking-tastic. It’s nearly tear inducing. I’m flooded with memories of Bell crawling for the first time, of how we dressed her up in a red velvet dress and black patent leather shoes for Christmas dinner, of falling asleep on the couch with her on my chest, the rest of me buried under dolls. I grin and slap Nathan on the back. He jolts forward. “No shit. A girl. Congratulations. They’re the most amazing . . .” A lump forms in my throat. “I can’t even put it into words.”

He nods. “I know, man. I know. I was there,” he says, referring to the last seven years with Bell. “Sit down before you hurt yourself. Or me.”

“I can’t even . . .” I get back on the seat, shaking my head. “I’m speechless. Sadie must be over the moon.”

“I took a risk announcing it like this,” he says, “but Sadie said she was ready to tell people last week, so I assumed it would be okay.”

I grimace. “You didn’t clear it with her?”

“How could I? It was a surprise.”

“A little advice,” I say, “I don’t care if she’s Mother Teresa—when dealing with a pregnant woman, assume nothing.”

“She didn’t seem mad about it,” he points out. “Not at all.”

“That could be. But still. Don’t think you’re off the hook yet.

She could strike at any time.”

“You make her sound like a rattlesnake hiding in the bushes.”

“Two words.” I hold up my fingers and count down. “Shana and hormones.”

“Ah. I see why you’d be traumatized,” he says. “So . . . she’s back, huh?”

“No. I don’t know. I’m hoping if I ignore her long enough, she’ll go away.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. Wish I could say it’s a surprise, but you never know with her. Is that why you’re putting the brakes on with Amelia?”

I glance up at the Yankees game in time to see Masahiro Tanaka strike out his batter. Nathan and I raise our glasses toward the TV and cheers. Since Jersey doesn’t have a major league baseball team, I root for the Yanks, my only concession where New York is concerned. “Not exactly,” I answer Nathan. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Nathan sighs. “Is it? After four years, are you seriously not ready to open up at all? To bring Amelia into Bell’s life?”

I nod out of habit more than agreement. I’m used to hearing it from Sadie, but Nathan is generally understanding of my stance on love. Am I not ready? Can I not open up? That isn’t the case. I already opened up to Amelia. Seeing Shana again should’ve sharpened that fear of falling for someone new, but instead, I turned to Amelia for support. I stop nodding and shake my head. “No, actually. I mean, yeah, Shana fucked me up. But I think I’m finally . . . over it.”

“Because of Amelia?” Nathan sounds surprised.

“Not completely. I just needed time and distance from Shana, and I have that now. But also, seeing Shana again, I felt nothing at all—except protective of Bell. No anger, no hurt.” I spin my glass on the bar. Would I have felt the same if Amelia weren’t in the picture, though? She’s not the reason I’m ready to move on from Shana, but she was the reason I suddenly wanted to. “And yes,” I add, “because of Amelia.”

“You really like her.”

“I do.”

“Then why . . .?”

I look at Nate. He’s a romantic, always has been. He’d love for everything to work out for everyone. It’s not that simple, though. “She’s scared. I was willing to take that risk with her, but she freaked out and left me hanging when I needed her, and I can’t risk that happening again. Not with Bell in the picture.”