Page 33 of First Comes Forever

“Are your nipples pierced?”

I nod at him slowly. “Yes.”

“Mhm, okay, cool,” he mutters before turning back down the hallway. I shut the door behind me once more, but still hear Adam grumble from down the hallway clear as crystal,“Fuck!”

seven

Alex parks his Denali, which is roughly the size of a small boat, across two residential parking spots outside of Building A of Elm Community. He rolls down his driver’s side window when he sees me waving at him from the sidewalk.

“Those are dedicated spots. You can’t park there,” I shout.

His dark shades hide the eye roll I’m sure he’s giving me. “Who’s going to arrest me?” he shouts back from across the lot. “It’s just for a couple of hours.”

He’s in for a surprise, that’s for sure. When he agreed to help me move Amani from her apartment to my condo, he had no idea the sheer volume of the contents of her closet. Then again, neither did I. Had I known, I would’ve hired a small army.

I’ve learned two fun facts about my new friend, Amani Rhodes, today. She’s weird about taking tags off things; she seems to be trapped in a perpetual state of “what if I need to return this?” Her broken-in light pink love seat, thoroughly stained, and bleached in patches where she tried to remedy the stains, still has the purchase receipts that she tucks into the withered cushion.

The other fun fact: the woman never wears a bra at home and it’s fucking distracting. I think she’s torturing me on purpose. It’s not like I’m thrilled about the “just friends” rule I imposed. But every time I fantasize about bending her over her faded pink love seat, I remember that by the end of summer, she wants to be pregnant. No way I can commit to that, nor do I want to distract her from what she wants. So friends it is.

Alex steps out of his SUV, but instead of heading in my direction, he hustles to the passenger side back door. And with that, I know Alex is going to be of zero help today.

“I said bring reinforcements,” I say, allowing my smile to grow wide as I quicken my steps across the parking spaces to greet them.

“I did,” he replies, unbuckling my nephew from his car seat.

“Are you helping us move today, buddy? I’m not sure if you’re strong enough.” My goofy “Uncle Adam” voice is involuntary. Every time I see Carson’s big, buggy, blue eyes and his fat toddler cheeks, a cheeriness from deep inside me bubbles up. “Let’s see. Show me your muscles.” I demonstrate by lifting my arms and bending them at the elbows, flexing my biceps.

Alex sets him down, his clean, tiny red Converse hitting the asphalt with a soft thud. His thick, jet-black hair contrasts his fair skin. He looks so much like his dad, but with his mother’s unmistakable deep dimples.

Carson’s squealing with laughter, refusing to mimic me making a muscle. He knows the minute his arms are in the air and his little armpits are unprotected, I’m going to tickle the shit out of him.

“Come on, bud. Like this.” I flex a little harder. “Show me those guns.”

“Don’t say guns around him,” Alex scolds me.

“He’s a boy, he’s going to learn what guns are soon enough.” Dropping my arms, I hold my hands out and curl my fingers like a monster, enjoying my nephew’s shrieks of tickle torture anticipation.

“He’s been a parrot lately. Tara gave me a whole list of things we can’t say around him.”

I keep my eyes locked on Carson as I slowly take a playfully menacing step forward. Convenient that he’s wearing a diaper because he’s laughing so hard, surely he’s peed his pants by now.

“Where is Tara?” I ask my brother.

“Headed to Seattle. She’s getting to scrub in on a coronary revascularization. It’s the most complicated surgery she’s ever assisted with. It’s a big deal for her fellowship.”

Carson has let his guard down, staring at his daddy, trying to sound out the big words he just heard. So I lunge. Before he can make sense of what’s happening, my nephew is in my arms, giggling and snorting as I trill my fingers over his belly. I quickly go from tickling him to grasping him firmly, preventing him from wiggling out of my grip and meeting the concrete head first.

“Does it bother you that your baby momma is saving lives, and you work pretty much a nine-to-five where you build tits?”

Alex gestures to Carson and glares at me. “Don’t say tits.”

“He breastfed,” I say nonchalantly. “Tits is a word he already knows.”

My brother rolls his eyes, but then a cocky smirk spreads across his face. “You know what’s messed up? When she’s done with her fellowship, she will literally be an expert in heart transplants.” Alex lowers his voice. “Tara is so much smarter than me. She works harder—”

“And better looking,” I add.

“True. But shut up. Point is, the surgeries she performs make me feel inept as a surgeon, yet I’ll still always earn double what she does. How fucked up is that? This world has backward priorities.”

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