Page 7 of Hearty

She sways back and forth, a move I’ve come to recognize from all my siblings as one that attempts to keep the baby peacefully asleep.

“How’s the little boy?” I ask, trying to peek into the carrier and am met with a head full of dark peach fuzz.

The baby was born just a week ago, and he’s basically just sleeping, feeding, and crying at this point. Plus, pooping—damn, have I changed more diapers than I ever thought I would, being the uncle to so many, thanks to my siblings. I never considered myself a kid person, I honestly hadn’t thought much about having my own family because I was so focused on my career, but I fucking love being an uncle. The brood of kids makes everything more interesting and fun at family gatherings these days.

“He’s good, eats like a champ. I’m just exhausted. Between Phoebe and this little one, it’s like I can barely think straight. It’s bliss, though. Wouldn’t want it any other way.” My sister smiles like the insanity is causing her intense happiness.

“Can I make you something? I was working on this recipe, but I can be persuaded to take requests since you are my only sister.”

“All right, what the hell do you want?” She smiles, knowing I’m not just being nice.

The favor I need to ask Alana for popped into my head as I was cooking this morning because, obviously, the kitchen is where I get all my best ideas. Not wanting to be woken by my parents’ escapades for one more instant, I know I need to get out quick. It just so happens that my sister provides that solution without even knowing it.

“I need to get the fuck out of Mom and Dad’s house.” I settle a hip against the counter as Alana unhooks the carrier, lifting the tiny infant to nuzzle into her shoulder.

“Why now? You love playing the consummate baby bird, always being tended to. Mom does your laundry, for God’s sake.” She rolls her eyes.

I try not to blush as I remember what I woke up to this morning. “Let’s just say there are … boundaries being crossed.”

Her head whips up from where she was smelling the baby’s scalp. “Oh my God, you heard Mom and Dad having sex!” Alana nearly shouts this, and I instantly press a finger to my lips to tell her to shush.

“How the hell did you guess that?”

She shrugs. “I heard them a time or two when I was still living at home.”

“They’re old, shouldn’t they cool it with that? It was gross.” I still want to pour bleach in my ears.

“They love each other, be glad that our parents are happy enough to still be into each other after all these years,” she admonishes, and the baby gives a little whimper.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean I want to hear it. Or have any knowledge of it whatsoever.” I shake my head in disgust.

“So, then, what do you need my help with? Move out. You’re a full-grown adult, or so you claim. If you don’t want to hear them doing the nasty?—”

“Alana, please, I’m still digesting my breakfast.” I pretend to gag.

“Just move out. You’ve got plenty of money, no girlfriend, no kids. You’re free as a bird to do whatever you please. Don’t know why you, as a fourth child, always need so much hand holding.” She huffs, but it’s in a loving way.

My sister is practically my second mother, and part of the reason I let the women in my life do all the heavy lifting is because Mom and Alana enable me.

“That would mean I had plenty of time to search for a place, or that a place I actually want to rent or buy was available, which it may not be. No, I need to get out now. And I just so happen to know you have an empty, spare house lying around.”

“Oh, come on, so now you’re taking my house because you can’t be mature enough to live under the same roof as our parent’s love making?”

Shuddering, I glare at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you keep bringing them up just to taunt me. But no, it’s just the quickest option. I’ll look for something eventually, but right now I’m just way too busy here. You know I’m trying to implement my own systems, menu, and such. I spend every waking moment here. Which also means I’ll barely even be at your old place. I won’t have anyone over, throw parties, so it’ll be neat and clean … come on, I’m the perfect tenant.”

“Oh, so you’re paying me rent?” She quirks an eyebrow.

Holding up my palms, I play dumb. “I mean, if you really need me to.”

The baby begins to cry that raspy little newborn cry. “Why do I feel the need to cave whenever you ask me for anything? I’ve become soft in motherhood.”

I pat the baby’s bottom as Alana rocks her on her shoulder. “Or it’s that whole baby bird thing? Come on, Al, I really need to get out of there. Tonight. Do me a solid?”

Regarding me for a second, I see the moment she rolls her eyes and gives in to the favor. “Fine. You still have your key? I’ll make sure all the utilities are still on, and you can move in tonight after you get out of this place at whatever ungodly hour.”

I smack a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the best! All right, what am I making you? Soon, the staff will get in, and I’ll have to boss them around.”

“I want that prosciutto and pesto panini. If I’m giving you my house, I at least want some burrata out of the deal.”

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