Page 60 of Somewhere in the Sunset

Gracie and I have only been gone for a few minutes, and in that time, Cameron, Brooks and Maddie have relocated to a squat rack. Maddie seems thrilled to have some assistance, because Cameron and Brooks are loading up more plates for her. She’s enjoying her moment as the main character. Cameron is in a bubble of admiration at watching a woman lift incredible weight, and Brooks is just relieved to have a break from Cameron’s grueling workouts.

“You did not,” Cameron says as I approach them. He clangs another plate onto the barbell and then shakes his head at me in a stern, fatherly way. “I work here, Weston. C’mon.”

“What?” I feign innocence, furrowing my brows in forced confusion.

“You totally just got laid in the locker room!”

“Yup. Look at the smile he’s hiding,” Brooks chimes in, and then bursts into laughter as he gives me a once over. “You could have looked in a mirror before you came back out here. Your hair wasn’t like that five minutes ago.”

Maddie places her hands on her hips as she nods to the locker room door. I glance behind me and find Gracie emerging from the locker room, running her fingers through her bangs and setting them neatly back in place, a sheepish smile on her face as she catches all of us watching her.

“Oh yeah,” Maddie says, giggling. “They definitely did.”

GRACIE

I meet Weston for dinner on Friday evening after his shift. Although he still believes working for the police department is the worst decision he’s ever made, he’s had a relatively easy ride this past week since he showed up at my door in the middle of the night, traumatized. No other shift has come close to affecting him the way that one did, and I make a point now of checking in with him every time he finishes work in case there’s anything he’d like to offload on me. By the sounds of it, today’s shift was pretty quiet and mundane.

“But at least Bill is being a bit more chill,” Weston says, tossing a French fry into his mouth, and I smile across the booth at him like a giddy teenager nursing a lifelong crush. “How did your driving lesson go today?”

“I parallel parked!” I exclaim, and although parallel parking is a skill the majority of the population has, Weston still beams with pride. It’s only my second lesson, but I already knowhowto drive, so it’s all about the fine-tuning. “I’ll maybe take one more lesson and then I’ll take the test.”

“And then you need to buy a car.”

“Would you like to come with me to shop for one? I think I’d like a Mercedes. A black one.”

Weston rolls his eyes and says, “Of courseyou want a Mercedes. I can’t picture you in a Toyota.”

But I know how I picture Weston. I picture him with his hand over my mouth in that cramped cubicle in the gym’s locker room, and I completely melt every time the image crosses my mind. I worry about my own sanity, because it’s almost becoming an obsession. All I think about is him.

He lifts his burger to take a bite, but his phone starts ringing. He answers it immediately and, after only a few seconds on the call, his posture straightens. I sip my soda and watch curiously. The call only lasts thirty seconds before Weston hangs up, looks at me with a dazzling grin, and says, “Keaton’s wife just had their baby. James. How do you feel about a road trip to meet my nephew?”

“I’d love to! Congratulations, Uncle Weston.”

We polish off the remainder of our food, pay the bill, then hightail it out of the restaurant and into Weston’s car. His older brother, Keaton, lives a couple hours north. Halfway into the journey, I question whether it’s my place to show up at the hospital with Weston. I’ve never met any of his family before. He reassures me, more than once, that his family are keen to meet me. His father and sister are also en route to the hospital, and it’ll be a late night for Weston and me by the time we get back to San Francisco later. It’s already after nine.

“That happened so fast,” Weston says, fidgeting with nervous excitement as we pull into the hospital’s parking lot. “Keaton didn’t even tell any of us she’d gone into labor. Man, I love my niece more than anything, but I can’t wait to throw a ball around instead of squeezing tiny dresses onto Barbies.” His excitement is adorable. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and as we cross the parking lot hand in hand, he accidentally breaks out into a jog.

“Slow down!” I laugh, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

Even though it’s late, the maternity wing of the hospital is still a hive of activity.Obviously.The nurses here wear pale pink scrubs and they dart quickly down the halls, off to their next patient. There’s a waiting room where visitors wait patiently for good news while loved ones endure labor, but Keaton’s baby is already here, so we head off down the hall in search of the room they’re in. Weston’s dad and sister made it here before us and have given us the number. Weston’s so antsy, he ends up completely missing the room.

“It’s here,” I say, reaching out for his arm and tugging him back.

He laughs nervously, then takes a deep breath before knocking gently on the door and poking his head around it. I follow him inside, hiding slightly behind him. Now that I’m here, I feel even more like I’m overstepping a boundary.

The room is quiet, dark, peaceful. There’s only a standing lamp switched on in the corner, but I realize why: Keaton’s wife is fast asleep in the bed. I glance around at everyone else. There’s an older man with a mustache that must be Weston’s father seated in a chair in the corner with a toddler on his lap, a younger guy also with a mustache that must be Keaton, and then the female must obviously be his sister, Peyton. The three of them watch us as we settle into the room, each of their expressions lit with joy. On the other side of the bed, a newborn with a baby blue hat sleeps soundly in the crib.

“Hi,” Weston whispers to the room. He embraces his brother first, pulling him in for a hug and patting him on the back. “Congratulations, dude. How’s Lily?”

“A rockstar,” Keaton replies, his voice equally as hushed. “She just fell asleep.”

“Uncle Wes!” the toddler exclaims, leaping across the room and wrapping her arms around Weston’s legs.Uncle Wes.So cute. He scoops her up into his arms and snuggles with her.

“Shhh.Mommy and James are sleeping,” Keaton reminds his daughter.

With his niece still in his arms, Weston looks sheepishly around the room and gives me a pointed nod as I hover anxiously by the door. “This is Gracie, by the way,” he whispers, and then he gestures to everyone else one by one. “That’s my dad, Mark. Keaton. Peyton. And this little superstar is Sophia.” He kisses his niece on the forehead and she giggles. It’s an age-old fact that seeing a guy be good with children only makes them more attractive, and I can totally vouch for that. Watching Weston cuddle into his niece makes my heart hurt a little, and he hasn’t even held the newborn yet. I’m not going to cope when he does.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” I whisper with a little wave.

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