I bawled into his neck. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I confessed.
“Let’s take it one day at a time, Hazel,” he soothed.
I cried over his beautiful skin while he ran a hand over my hair, neck, and face. He pushed his arm underneath my legs and slid me out of the car, shut the door, and walked with me toward his car, placing me inside. He walked back to my car, got my keys and my bag, then climbed into the driver’s side of his own. He started it and took his phone out.
“River,” he said, “I’m calling it. No more sessions until after Thanksgiving.”
He hung up then grabbed my hand; we rode in silence all the way to my studio. Without saying a word still, we walked up to my apartment. He took my keys and opened the door, shut it behind us, picked me up again and took us both to my bed. He kicked the covers off as we fell into it but found them again and brought them over us, completely over us. It was dark and quiet. Soothing. He pressed my body against his, ran his hand down my leg, and cupped the back of my knee before bringing it between his legs. We sat there intertwined like that for at least half an hour, enough for my body to calm down, my heart rate to slow.
I shifted and his body stiffened. “Stay with me like this, Hazel.”
I relaxed my muscles and settled into him. Only then did he calm down himself.
“Can your grandma come for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
I shook my head. “She can’t come.”
Atticus’s hands tensed on my shoulders. “Why not?”
“Apparently my mom surprised her. She asked if she could bring her but I said I wasn’t comfortable with my mom knowing where I lived.”
He sighed. “I see.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry, Hazel.”
“It’s okay, Atticus.”
“You’ll come home with me. We’ll eat well. We’ll talk. We’ll kiss. We’ll touch.” I smiled up at him. “I love it when you smile, Hazel. It makes me happy.”
A little bit of the afternoon sun seeped through the comforter over our heads. He climbed down my body, his mouth against my stomach, and kissed me there over and over. “Hazel,” he spoke into my skin.
“Yeah.”
“What are we having?” he asked, stopping and looking up at me.
I smiled at him. “What do you want it to be?”
“Healthy,” he answered.
“You don’t have a preference?” I asked.
His chin rested on the bone of my hip and he shook his head from side to side. “Not at all.”
“How do you feel about the color pink?” I asked him.
Atticus’s eyes turned glassy and his grin grew so wide I was afraid it would burst off his face. “It’s a girl?”
I nodded and he brought his face up to mine, kissing me deeply. “What about a name?” he asked.
“I have one,” I told him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The night we met you named the little girl in my first painting.”
He stared at me. “Juniper,” he whispered.
“Juniper,” I repeated.
“Juniper Kelly,” he said, making me smile.
“Juniper Kelly,” I tested on my tongue.
“No, Juniper Hazel Kelly,” he corrected.
Thanksgiving Day, Atticus picked me up at my apartment and took me over to his parents’ house. We had to park the length of a football field from their home since the street was so congested with cars. As we waltzed up the porch, I was blasted by noise through the closed door.
“How many people are here?” I asked him.
“I think just my parents, my brothers, their kids and girlfriends.”
“How many is that?”
“Probably about twenty,” he explained as the door burst open and kids came rushing through, screaming and laughing.
“Whoa,” Atticus said, swooping a little boy about four. “Careful, Jeremiah,” he said, kissing his cheek.
“Uncle Atticus, who is this?” Jeremiah asked, pointing at me.
“This is Hazel.”
“Hi!” Jeremiah greeted, squirming out of his uncle’s arms and running off to join the others.
I followed Atticus into the house. The TV was blaring and there were people all over laughing and shouting. Children were running everywhere. It was a little louder than I was used to, growing up with no siblings in a house with my quiet grams.
“Hey!” they all shouted in unison as we came through.
Six little kids ran up to Atticus and jumped on him. They all fell to the floor laughing. I watched one little girl, probably about two, parading around him in some sort of princess gown, little plastic heels slapping on the wood floor around him.
“Well, if it isn’t Princess Eva!” Atticus shouted.
She picked up the skirt of her gown and lifted it. “Pretty!” she said.
Atticus, with little boys hanging off each arm, kneeled before her. “Your Majesty,” he teased, making her giggle.
All three tackled him back to the ground and he started laughing. “Guys! Guys! Please.”
But they were unrelenting and only doubled their efforts on bringing him down.
“You must be Hazel,” said a pretty woman to my right.
“Yes,” I said with a smile.
“I’m Ellie,” she introduced herself. “Aidan’s girlfriend and Molly’s mom?”
“Nice to meet you,” I told her.
“Nice to meet you as well,” she replied. She hooked her arm with mine and started walking.
I turned around to see Atticus staring after me with a smile.
“He’ll be around, babe,” she said, reassuring me. “I just want to introduce you to all the girls.” She brought me into the kitchen where Sarah and a few other girls were hanging out. “You guys, this is Hazel.” They all waved and said hi. “This is Brendan’s girlfriend, Jennifer,” she said, gesturing to a pretty girl with bright blonde hair.
“Nice to finally meet you,” Jennifer said with a smile.
“I’m Jamie,” another beautiful introduced herself. “Cillian’s girlfriend.”
She was of Asian ancestry and breathtaking.
“Maggie.” A beautiful redhead waved. “I’m Liam’s ex.”
“I’m Isla, Malachi’s ex-girlfriend,” the last girl said. She was tall and had long black hair.
“Nice to meet you all,” I said, feeling a bit intimidated.
There was no question about it, these women were quite the collection of beautiful. The Kelly boys dug the aesthetic. I turned toward Atticus’s mom and she came forward, quick to give me a hug.
“Hello, baby,” she greeted. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
All the girls sat down. Jennifer offered me an empty chair and I sat.
“We heard you’re expecting?” Jamie asked.
“Uh, yes,” I answered. “Have you all known long?” I asked.
“We all found out today,” Maggie answered.
Sarah turned toward the stove to stir something.
I smiled a them. “Shocked?” I asked.
They all stayed quiet for a moment before Isla said, “I won’t lie; we were a little surprised. Atticus— well, I mean, it’s not really like Atticus.” She cleared her throat. “But that’s not to say unwelcome,” she added warmly.
I didn’t know how to respond to them. It was obvious Atticus was their golden boy, whom they all relied on, and I was a giant wrench thrown into their plans.
“Atticus says you paint?” Jennifer asked.
I nodded. “I do.”
“Two artists,” Sarah commented. “A pretty hard life,” she added.
“True,” I agreed. “I don’t think it’s impossible to be successful, though. We’re both incredibly hard workers. Sweat equity and all that.”
“Mmm,” Sarah responded.
I felt like I had to qualify myself, us. “Atticus will be something, Sarah,” I promised her. “I won’t let him be anything else.”
&nbs
p; She turned toward me, her eyes wet. “Kelly men do whatever they want to do, darlin’.”
“Then it’s a good thing Atticus wants to be someone. I won’t stop him. I won’t get in the way.”
Sarah turned toward me. “That’s not Atticus, though, Hazel. He’ll put you in the way. You’ll become his way.”
I turned and looked toward the other women but they all had their heads down, pretending to be working or on their phones.
I looked at Sarah again. “What are you saying, Sarah? Speak plainly.”
“I’m not saying anything, really. I’m only trying to express how hard this whole thing is going to be if he starts to love you, because Atticus doesn’t do anything without real passion. He won’t love you without that same passion. You are going to be his whole world. He will shift his entire life, even to his own detriment.
“Ever since he was little, he’s been that way. He has an obsessive need to please the people he loves. I’m j-just, please, be careful with him.”
I swallowed. “I’ll be careful.”
Dinner was strange. I mostly kept quiet and observed Atticus with his brothers. They were happy, playful, and teasing. They all loved one another very much. They exuded loyalty as well. It was refreshing. They were definitely different and very interesting.
Atticus’s phone rang and he kissed my temple as he stood to answer it.
“Hey, River,” he said, walking toward the front door, probably so he could hear his conversation over his loud family.
A few minutes later he returned, running the palms of his hands over his arms to get them warm since he left without his jacket. “I’ve got to go,” he told them all.
They whined and complained. I looked at him, a little taken aback.
“Where?” I asked.
“The Sink. Delilah is desperate to record, hit with inspiration.”
My blood started boiling. I stood and turned toward his family and plastered a fake smile on my face. “It was nice to meet you girls,” I told them. “Boys, always a pleasure.”
Each of the girls stood and kissed my cheek. As we made our way to the door, each of the brothers gave me a bear hug. Sarah and Casey kissed my forehead.
Atticus ran a little ahead and opened my door for me. I got in without saying a word.
“You’re pissed,” he said when he got in himself, started it up, and took off.
“Most definitely,” I admitted.
“I’m taking you with me, Hazel.”
I turned toward him. “I’m not going.”
He laughed. “The fuck you aren’t.”
I laughed back. “You can’t make me.”
He stopped the car in the middle of his parents’ street, took off his seatbelt, reached over, unclicked mine, then dragged me by the top of my jeans closer to him.
“Atticus!”
His lips found mine and then his tongue. He broke away and kissed up my neck. “I bet I can.”
I fought the urge to give in. “No,” I told him.
He dragged his lips down my neck and bit my collarbone softly. “Please, Hazel,” he begged.
“No,” I insisted, but felt myself wavering.
He slid his hands around my jaw and his teeth found my earlobe. “Please,” he whispered.
I let out a shaky breath in answer.
With his lips still at my ear, he brought my seatbelt around and clicked me in before pulling away and buckling in himself again. We eyed one another but neither of us said anything. When we arrived at The Sink, I grabbed the sketchpad I always kept in his car. I waited for him to open my door for me and we walked to the studio. Once inside, I hit the bathroom because preggos gotta pee! A lot.
When I was done, I washed my hands and picked up my pad I’d set on the receptionist’s desk before waltzing back to Atticus’s studio. I rounded the corner and it was just Atticus and Delilah.
I began to smile but the shocked look on her face made it falter. “What is she doing here?” she asked him.
I was too surprised to say anything. Atticus eyed her strangely then said, “It’s Thanksgiving. I was with my family when River called. I thought I’d bring her along for this session.”
Delilah checked herself and tried to laugh but didn’t pull it off. “Oh, yeah, of course,” she said.
“Don’t mind me,” I told them, lifting up the pad.
I sat on the couch, pulled my legs up, and began to sketch. I felt Delilah’s eyes on me constantly, though, and kept looking up to find her openly staring at me. At one point I got up to use the restroom just to get out of the studio. I was starting not to trust Delilah. Hard pressed, I had to admit she had a killer voice and a talent for writing lyrics. And as much as I also hated to have admitted it, they were an incredible writing team. From what I heard, I knew it was going to do well. There was no way their collaborations weren’t going to hit charts. This made me excited for Atticus but also extremely nervous because, despite it all, I could tell she was into him, really into him. She saw me as an obstacle, and she didn’t strike me as the type to let little things like girlfriends get in her way. She was just gorgeous enough that competition would be rare, and she looked like she was used to winning.
“Damn,” Atticus said, standing up. “I’ll be right back. I’m missing a pedal. I think it’s in River’s studio.”
He walked out but not before bending over and kissing the top of my head. I’d set my pencil back on paper but felt Delilah’s eyes once more. This time when I looked up, she spoke to me.
She swung back and forth in her rolling chair casually. “How long have you been together?” she asked.
“Fifteen weeks,” I answered.
She snorted. “That’s an odd way of putting it. Why not just say three or four months or something?”
“Oh, I don’t now,” I replied. “It could be because I’m just an odd girl or maybe it’s because Atticus got me pregnant the first day we met and that’s how far along our baby is.”
Delilah choked on nothing, her body rocking forward as she sat upright. “You’re pregnant?”
I shifted so my legs and feet were tucked beside me. “Yeah.”
She turned quiet, reflective, then asked, “So it was, like, a one-night stand gone wrong or something?”
“No,” I explained, “more like fate on fast forward.”
She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she stated, “So it hasn’t been very long then.”
“Long enough,” I assured her. I studied her and leaned forward. “Do you think I’m so stupid that I don’t see what you’re doing?”
“What am I doing?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“You’re gleaning information about us, trying to find your angle, and to add insult to injury, you’re actually asking me of all people!”
“That’s just not true. He’s my producer. I’m going to be spending lots of time with him,” she said, “and I’m just trying to get to know him is all.”
“Sure, sure,” I bit sarcastically. “See, the thing is, Delilah, I’m not an idiot. I know your kind. Girls like you are crawling all over Deep Ellum, so I’m quite familiar with them already.”
“Girls like me?” she asked.
“Yes, girls exactly like you.”
“And what kind of girl do you think I am?” she asked, crossing her long legs.
“You’re the I-want-what-I-want-and-I-get-what-I-want girl, the spoiled, beautiful girl who clicks her heels loudly and demands attention kind. You’re one of the ones who sees something pretty and has to have it for her own, even if it belongs to someone else.”
She smiled at me, all pretense leaving her face. “Speaking of. You’re very pretty, do you know that?” she asked.
“What does that have any—?” I began, but she cut me off.
She breathed in through her nose and looked me up and down, clicking her tongue once. “I just like a challenge is all.”
My blood began to boil. “If I wasn’t knocked up, Delilah,” I left hanging.
“What? You’d tackle me or something?”
“Maybe.”
“Classy.”
I shook my head at her. “Oh, and hunting someone down who’s taken is? I’ve never understood how so many drones in this world think that violence is the epitome of wrong. Sometimes a violent offense deserves a violent reaction. How else will the offender ever learn?” My feet hit the floor and I stared directly at her. “See, that’s the problem with you. You probably grew up in a big house with a rich daddy who let you get away with murder because corporal punishment was considered taboo, but I didn’t. I grew up poor, surrounded by druggies and prostitutes, and when someone fucked with you, you popped them the fuck back. Pacifism is a characteristic for the civilized, but civilized you are not. So listen up, Delilah, come after him and I’m coming after you.”
“You know what’s funny to me?” she asked, but I didn’t deign to take the bait. She continued anyway. “You can bluster and rant all you want, but the only thing I have to do is wait.”
“For?” I couldn’t help myself.
“You’re going to get bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, and more hormonal and more insecure, and eventually you’re going to sink your own ship and when that happens, I’ll be there with a life raft big enough for me and Atticus. And trust me when I say that he will enjoy the ride.”
I threw my pad on the floor and stood up in a rush just as Atticus came in. He startled and stopped short, reading the room.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking unsure.
“We’re great,” Delilah answered, her voice plastic.
Atticus watched me. “Hazel?” he asked. “You okay?”
All the fight I had in me deflated and I fell onto the couch. “I’m great, babe,” I lied.
He sat in his chair. “Well, that pedal is gone,” he went on, unaware of the shitstorm he interrupted. “I think River took it home or put it somewhere weird. Whatever. Anyway, I think I’ve got an idea,” he droned on.
I tuned him out as I picked up my pad and pencil again but not before staring daggers into the back of Delilah’s neck.
Atticus and Delilah didn’t get done until after two a.m., which was a problem because I had to work early in the morning. Delilah offered to drive him back home if I wanted to take Atticus’s car. I refused, of course, and ended up crashing on the sofa. When I woke, she was gone.