Chaser

  Tongue digging into his cheek, he grinned. "True enough."

  "I'd be taking every damn drug they'd give me and crying for more," said Joe. "Probably begging for my mommy. Shit like that."

  "Hell," I said. "I nearly did all that and I wasn't even the one giving birth."

  "To women." Pat raised his glass and we all toasted.

  I cleared my throat. "But, Pat, if you pass out while Nell's pushing your baby out into the world, reasonable or not, we're going to give you shit about it for years. That's the god's honest truth."

  "Forever," corrected Joe.

  "Right, my bad. Forever."

  "Assholes." Pat chuckled. Then he fixed me with his gaze. "It was really that intense? I mean, they showed us a documentary at the hospital class the other night. But it didn't seem that bad."

  "Wait for the real thing," I said, voice serious. "There are no words."

  "Damn," he muttered, going a little pale.

  "Ah, true fear. Now you are beginning to understand." I laughed. "My work here is done."

  With a dour look, Pat flipped me off. My brother started laughing too, thumping the bar with the flat of his hand. What can I say, a tired crowd is an easy one to entertain.

  "You got him scared," said Joe, sipping at his drink.

  "I'm not scared." The big, hairy, tattooed dude shook his head. "It's just ... so long as Nell's okay, everything'll be fine, you know?"

  "Absolutely," I said without hesitation. "And she will be. The baby too."

  "Yeah." Pat shook off the worry, raising the glass again. "Guess we should drink to Jean too."

  "To Jean." Joe and I tapped our glasses against Pat's and drank.

  "Doctor said she and the baby should be home in a few days."

  "Great," I said, but I didn't think it would be quite so soon. She just had an operation, after all. I'd been rejigging my schedule to fit a few more visits in.

  "I guess you'll be going to go up to the hospital to see her tomorrow before you open the bar?" asked Joe.

  "Apparently, he's quite the birth partner." Pat grinned, scratching at his beard. "Half the nurses thought he was the father."

  Something squirmed in my gut. "I'm obviously not the father," I said, shuffling my feet. "Of course I'll visit her sometime. I mean, why wouldn't I?"

  "Does it feel like there's a bond there now, after seeing her through the birth?" asked Pat.

  "I dunno." I shrugged. "I just happened to be there. It's not a big deal."

  Joe scratched at his jawline. "You think she'd have expectations?"

  "Jean's not like that," I said.

  "She is alone."

  I scowled. "Don't be an asshole."

  "Can't see her trying to latch onto him or anything," said Pat, intervening. "She's nice."

  My brother didn't seem convinced. "You have to admit, man. You do have a soft spot for the woman."

  "So?" I snapped. "I might have said I'd help her out, but..."

  "You did?" Joe's eyes were wide. "Maybe Pat's got a point about you stepping back before you get too involved."

  "Jesus Christ." I hung my head, bracing my hands on the bar. "Why are you making this into such a big deal?"

  "Because babies are a big deal," he said. "Are you sure you're not, even a little, replacing the kid you and Nell lost with Ada?"

  "What?"

  "It's just a thought."

  "Well it makes no damn sense."

  "Okay," he said. "Calm down. I just know that what happened with Nell messed you up. Don't want to see you getting involved with Jean and the baby for the wrong reasons and getting hurt."

  I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Pat just raised his brows. "Fucked if I know. Figured I'd check to make sure you were okay with everything, that's all."

  I picked up a glass and a cloth and got to polishing. Anything to keep my hands busy. "I thought it was the bartender's job to hand out bullshit advice. Not the idiots on the stools. Stop freaking me out."

  "You're my brother," said Joe, unrepentant. "I'm supposed to worry about you."

  The silence that followed was all kinds of screwed up. Same as my brain. I didn't do complications. At least, not to this degree. Surely Jean didn't expect anything big from me. Being the first person to hold Ada after the doctor had been nice and all, but it didn't mean I needed to glue myself to her and her mom. I wasn't a part of their life, not really. Would Jean think I was? Then what if she started relying on me and I let her down?

  Shit.

  All Joe and Pat had done was confuse the crap out of me. I needed better friends. And why did everyone else have to barge in on the scene, with their expectations and worries and demands? Jean and I had done just fine at the hospital without anyone else there. "I think I might just send some flowers."

  I gulped down the last of my drink. Why the hell Pat had felt the need to bring up the accident last year and Nell losing our baby, I don't know. "Yeah," I said, warming to the idea. It felt safer, less complicated. "Flowers are nice, right? I mean, if they're going to be home in a few days anyway there's no need to be rushing over there again."

  "Sure," said Pat, looking about as convinced as my brother.

  "Won't she be expecting you?" asked Joe.

  "Come on." I laughed. "Jean and I are just friends, neighbors. I'm glad I was there to get her to the hospital safely and everything, but honestly, we barely even know each other. There's no need for me to be hanging around, getting in the way."

  Neither of the knuckleheads in front of me said a thing.

  "Probably even be weird if I kept turning up."

  Joe mumbled something. It sounded vaguely agreeable.

  Then Pat raised his glass again. "To you being there to get her safely to hospital," he said. "Sometimes, despite everything, things can go right."

  I forced the whiskey down, ignoring the continuing weird sick swirling feeling in my stomach. Everything was fine. Tomorrow, I'd definitely order her some flowers. Problem solved. Because the fact was that whatever weird bond or whatever I'd thought I'd felt with Jean and Ada, it was just a passing thing. A part of going through the whole birth and everything with her the night before. If I started blowing it up in my head, trying to make it into something more ... that would just be stupid. Like the woman didn't have enough going on with a newborn baby and recovering from surgery.

  Nuh, Nell and Alex would be all over her, wanting to help. She didn't need me. In fact, things would probably just be awkward if I was around. Being the birth partner had complicated things. I'd been her only option for getting to the hospital and staying with her through it all. It felt like it should all be significant, but the fact is, it wasn't.

  I don't fucking know. My mind was a mess.

  "Maybe getting my vacation days out of the way before Nell goes off to have the kid is a good idea," I said, tightening my ponytail. It had nothing to do with Jean, really. Things were bound to get busy with Nell off on maternity leave. It made good business sense. "I'll talk to Lydia and Nell about it. See what they think."

  Joe nodded. "True."

  "Yeah, we'll see." I shrugged. "You know, a little time away might be good..."

  *

  "Nice tan," Jean said, three weeks later.

  So I may have run away to California to hide for a while. Like a manly man. Or like an absolute ass, I don't know. "Did you get the flowers?"

  "Yes. Thanks." She had to raise her voice to be heard over Ada's wails. She stood in the doorway to her apartment, kind of gently jiggling the baby in her arms. "When did you get back?"

  "A little while ago." Two minutes, give or take a couple of seconds. Long enough to dump my bag at my place, hear the crying, and come knock on her door. I was truly pathetic. So much for staying away. If the woman kneed me in the balls and left me crying on the floor, it'd be no less than I deserved.

  "Did you have a good vacation?" she asked, voice a little cool.

  "Sure, great," I said, playing it down.

  She ju
st nodded, saying nothing.

  "Sorry I didn't get to say good-bye." I raised a shoulder, hesitating. "Pat and Joe didn't have much going on and were able to cover for me. Made sense to just go. Quickly. You know, business wise..."

  "Right."

  "Lydia's going to have some time off now that I'm back," I said. "It's not just me that's getting away for a while. Regular breaks make for better mental energy and everything. Particularly for people in management positions. Very important to step back and refresh yourself ... yeah."

  She just blinked.

  "What's up with her?" I cocked my head, getting a look at Ada's tiny screwed-up face. "Man, she's grown."

  "It's been three weeks." Jean smiled tiredly at the baby. "As for why she's crying, I think our country's current political situation is really getting to her, you know? As a woman, she feels underrepresented and forgotten. It's upsetting."

  "She's a sensitive kid."

  "Yeah. That or she's overtired and can't settle. Take your pick." Jean yawned, mouth splitting wide. The bruises under her eyes and general pallor of her face were disturbing. She looked seriously run-down in her yoga pants and flannel shirt. Not that she didn't also look kick-me-in-the-ass gorgeous. Funny how sometimes you can really see people properly only when they are at the end of their tether. As if all the wear and tear just strips away the superficial crap.

  She stepped back. "Well, good to see you."

  "I missed you two," I blurted out, then frowned.

  Jean's head shot up, surprise in her gaze. "You did?"

  "Yes. A lot. Much more than I thought I would."

  "Oh." Her smile was slow, even a little wary. "We missed you too."

  "Good. I mean..." My brain searched for words and came up empty. I had no damn idea what I meant.

  "Why are we standing in the hallway? Come on in." She stepped back, wandering into her apartment. "Oh, wait. Scratch that. I forgot that the hallway is much nicer than my apartment."

  "I don't mind. Really."

  She bit her lip. "Just be warned, it would seem my neat-freak days are far behind me."

  And the woman wasn't lying. Inside, the coffee table was buried beneath a pyramid of laundry, while empty take-out containers from the Dive Bar littered the kitchen counter. At least Nell was making sure she ate.

  "It's bad, I know." Jean didn't sit, walking back and forth amongst it all with practiced ease. Ada kept on crying. "Everyone in the building has invested in earplugs. I hope someone thought to warn you."

  "It's fine."

  Another yawn.

  "How have things been going?" I leaned against the wall. Easier than finding somewhere to sit.

  "Honestly?" she asked, patting the baby's butt.

  "Always."

  "S. H. I. T."

  I winced.

  "She won't sleep for more than a couple of hours. At first it was because I had trouble feeding her." Jean's shoulders slumped. "She wouldn't latch on right and my nipples were like something out of a horror movie, all cracked and bloody. Also, I say 'nipples' in front of random men now. It's kind of my thing."

  "We all need a thing."

  This time the smile was even smaller than the last. "Now I think she's just gotten into a bad routine."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's not your fault." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I totally get why they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture now."

  Jesus. While I'd been partying in California, having a great time despite continuing to live the celibate life for some reason, Jean had been going through hell. And I'd promised to help her. I was the fucking worst. Seriously, the woman should have slammed the door in my face.

  "Unfortunately, breast-feeding was a total disaster," she said. "I really wanted it to work and the midwives and even a specialist were trying to help me, but..."

  "You did your best."

  Her gaze narrowed. "How do you know?"

  "Because I know you," I said, guilt clogging up my mind. "I know you want the best for your baby and would have given it your best shot."

  "Maybe. If anything, having a baby has taught me exactly how little I know. These things are meant to be natural, and I feel like such a failure. Like I should win worst mother and most useless boobs of the year awards or something." Her eyes went glossy with tears and she sniffled. "Sorry."

  Ada's cries picked up in volume.

  "Anyway, she's on formula now. Something needed to change and Nell talked me into giving it a try a couple of days ago." She rubbed her cheek against Ada's little head, gaze sullen. "She's still not happy, though. But at least she's putting on a little weight."

  "You're both still alive and in good condition. Don't be so hard on yourself."

  Jean snorted. "It does feel like survival of the fittest some days."

  "Let me take her." I stepped forward, hands held out. "Please? It's the least I can do after disappearing on you. You take a break, I'll walk her around for a while."

  "Oh. I didn't mean to dump my sad story on you." She took a deep breath, visibly pulling herself together. "Alex and Nell have been helping me out a huge amount. People have been really kind."

  "But you need some sleep, right?"

  She just frowned. "You only just got back."

  Honestly, I was kind of kicking myself, wishing I'd never left. But I couldn't tell her that, it would be too weird. Hell, what about me glomming onto Jean and her baby wasn't? "I basically spent three weeks lying on the beach with my board next to me. Onshore wind and the swell was nothing. I think I caught four good waves the whole time."

  "Do you surf well?"

  I shrugged. Some things just come easy. "I'm better at snowboarding."

  "Right." She seemed bitter about something. "What else did you do?"

  "Checked out a few new nightspots. Did the rounds, you know."

  "Yeah?"

  "L.A.'s always crazy good fun. Love the place."

  She nodded.

  "Got invited to a really great launch party for a new vodka," I said with an easy smile. "Man, they went all out. Had this amazing band, women doing that burlesque dancing, fireworks, you name it. The party didn't stop until four in the morning."

  "Huh." She studied the ground. "Sounds amazing. A lot more fun than we've been having here."

  Shit.

  "Actually, it wasn't that good," I backtracked. "I mean, the vodka itself was so smooth it was bland. At what they wanted to charge per bottle, a total waste of money. I only drank it 'cause it was free. And the appetizers were all these weird little mushroom things. Not good."

  "Mm."

  "Weather was kind of average too. Basically the whole trip was crap."

  She cocked her head. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

  "No."

  The woman did not look convinced. Fair enough.

  "Anyway," I said, moving things along. "Trust me, I'm rested up and ready to spend some quality time with Ada."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes."

  Her brows remained drawn in, gaze doubtful. "I guess we can see how it goes. If you're sure."

  "I'm sure."

  Eventually, carefully, she handed the baby over. Ada hiccupped, then stared up at me with big surprised eyes. After that, she recommenced sounding off about how bad she felt about everything. Apparently, this was extraordinarily bad. Okay. I'd done this holding her thing before. Everything would be fine. Nice and slowly, I lay her tummy down over the length of my arm, putting my hand on her back, all the while keeping a gentle grip on her wriggling little body. One of the baby books had suggested the position and total success. I aced it. Even if Ada was still bawling.

  "We're okay here. I read some more about rocking babies to sleep. Apparently this position can be highly effective. We'll just hang out right here," I said. "You try and get some rest."

  "I can't just dump my baby on you."

  "Yeah, you can. I'm here now and I want to help. Please?"

  "All right, if you
're sure."

  "Try taking a nap. If I mess up, you're just in the next room."

  Instead, Jean looked around. "I should really tidy up."

  "Hey, you can't function on no sleep," I said. "You know that."

  At last she said, "Okay. All right. Just for a little while."

  I nodded.

  "She's just had a diaper change and been fed. Come get me if you need anything."

  "Got it."

  A little line appeared between her brows. "Okay."

  "You can trust her with me. We'll be fine."

  "I know," she said. "You were almost the first person to hold her. I do trust you."

  "I know where to find you if she decides she hates my company or something. I haven't forgotten how judgmental she can be."

  "Sure." Not even an attempt at a smile this time. But slowly, gradually, Jean headed toward the bathroom connected to the bedroom. She looked back no less than eight times before finally disappearing inside and closing the door.

  "Phew," I muttered. "I thought she'd never leave. Okay, Ada. What's the problem here?"

  I rocked back and forth, softly jiggling her like her mom had. One of the books suggested babies liked a bit of pressure or firmness on their stomach, so hopefully lying along the length of my arm would soothe her a little. Hopefully.

  "You need to go to sleep, baby girl."

  She ignored me and bawled on.

  "I did miss you," I said. "Sorry I wasn't around. Truth is, I really did have a good time in Cali. Getting away from everything for a while was exactly what I needed. Things had just gotten so heavy. But I didn't forget about you, I promise."

  Small pitiful cries continued.

  "Looks like you've been giving your mom a pretty hard time and you're not all that happy about the state of things either." I rubbed her back. "So what are we going to do, hmm?"

  Damn she smelled good. Baby powder and soap or something.

  "You know, this is pretty weird, you and me hanging out together," I prattled on. I don't know why, except that her incessant crying seemed to demand some sort of response, and speaking bullshit was all I had. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I never even wanted to have kids. Never wanted to be a father. Children only get in the way, tie you down, and they're expensive as all hell. Not really my style."

  Her cries went down a bit in volume. Highly doubt her agitation had much to do with me anyway. More like she and her mom were both upset and overtired, stressing each other out. The book said that sort of loop could occur. Babies could be very emotionally tuned in to their caretakers.

  "So anyway, there I was staying in the most amazing beach house. It belongs to this sort of friend of mine," I mumbled, keeping my voice low and hopefully soothing. "You wouldn't like him, he's a bit of an idiot. Though a very rich one. But I mean, he hits things with sticks for a living. How dumb is that? I'm much cooler, right?"