Page 29 of Hold You Close
I don’t know why she thinks anything would ever happen. Ian likes girls who are pretty, skinny, and don’t have braces on. I’m definitely not his type. He’s with Jamie Hardgrave who is the captain of the cheerleading squad, homecoming queen, and pretty much every teenage boy’s fantasy. “I promise because I will never be with Ian.”
Sabrina rolls back over. “I bet you one day he’ll try to date you and then you’ll be all, ‘oh Ian . . .’” She clutches her chest. “I love you, Ian, even if you’re an idiot.”
I nearly choke on my laughter. “You’re so stupid.”
“I’m serious, London. Watch.”
She says that like it’s a bad thing, when it’s everything I want. “Whatever.”
“You’re my best friend in the world,” Sabrina says.
“And you’re mine.”
“At least if you guys get married, we’d be sisters.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself! It’s never going to happen, anyway. He’s going to marry Jamie and have two kids and a dog.”
She scoffs. “Yeah right. He’s only dating her because Chad wanted her. I heard him say something on the phone about breaking up with her. Boys are so dumb.”
I try to keep myself in check, but the idea is swirling around now. Ian and me . . . together.
“Yeah,” I agree. “So dumb. Thank God we have Jason Priestley and Luke Perry to dream about.”
Sabrina lets out a dramatic sigh. “Right. I want to find a man like one of them.”
The memory fades,and I open my eyes. Morgan is breathing deeply and steadily next to me, sound asleep. I kiss the top of her head and snuggle closer to her. That’s when I notice the mirror on the ceiling.
Fucking Ian.
Sighing, I carefully slip off Morgan’s bed and exit the room. But there’s no sense in being angry with him. He is who he is, and he never planned on being a father to these kids. Or any kids, as far as I know. He’s going to need me, and he knows it.
Part of me likes that a little too much.
Seven
Ian
I carry a sleeping Ruby up to the room she chose—refusing to look in the corner that previously housed the sex swing—and lay her down on the bed. However, she’s still dressed. Do I leave her in her clothing? Try to get her into her pajamas? Wake her up to change?
I stand there for a moment, scratching my head and staring down at this poor little thing whose heart is so broken about the loss of her parents that she’s lost her voice. And where did London say I had to drive her? Was it dance class? And Morgan . . . something about a science project? And Christopher—he plays basketball. That I know for sure because I’ve been to plenty of his games, but I’m going to have to be better at keeping track of all their activities. I’m all they’ve got now.
Feeling overwhelmed, I sit down on the edge of the bed.
I’m going to need London. There is no question; I can’t get along without her. I can learn and I can try—and I will—but all this nurturing stuff comes so naturally to her.
I wonder why she never got married and had her own kids since she loves these three so much. Is it because of her career? That has to be it. She’s always been so driven to succeed. How could she possibly have thought she would have been happy giving up her full ride to Northwestern just to stay here and fuck around with me?
I remember the night she told me about it. I was home from UNLV for the weekend, and Sabrina begged me to drag them along to a party I was going to. I said okay, though I was sure they were just going to bug me all night, and I’d spend the entire time ignoring them. But I couldn’t get over how different London seemed that night—so confident and sexy. She had just been offered the full ride to Northwestern, and was also considering offers from like seven other fantastic schools. I remember looking at her and thinking how hot it was that this beautiful girl was so smart and driven. The kind of girl who was too good for me or any other jackass at that party.
And she liked me. I knew she did because Sabrina had hinted at it before, but I had never cared. That night, I looked at her differently. I kissed her out in someone’s backyard behind a giant palm tree. I wanted to do more, but I told myself not to be a dick to her. She wasn’t just some sorority girl at a party—she was my sister’s best friend, and she trusted me.
Beside me, Ruby stirs in her sleep, rolling on to her side. She seems a little uncomfortable in her clothes, so I decide to try getting her into her pajamas. Her suitcase is open on the floor, and I switch on the lamp before pawing through it. Locating what I think is a nightgown, I bring it over to the bed. Then I take a deep breath and get started.
First, I peel off Ruby’s little white socks. She doesn’t even move. Congratulating myself, I move on to her shorts. It takes some effort to slide them down her legs, but I go slow and eventually manage to get them off. I’m totally sweating. Wiping my forehead with my forearm, I figure I probably need to get her into a sitting position to get her T-shirt off. I sit down on the bed, reach beneath her arms and bring her toward me. Immediately she flops forward with her head on my shoulder. Somehow, God knows how, I manage to get the shirt off one arm at a time and then over her head.
She wakes up. “Daddy?” she says, confused as she sits up and looks at me in the semi-dark.
“No, sweetie. It’s Uncle Ian.” Quickly I reach for the nightgown and put it over her head. She gets her arms in the sleeves and tips over backward as soon as it’s on. I tug it down and cover her with the blankets before leaning over to kiss her forehead. Her panda bear—what was it? Ed? Fred?—has fallen to the floor, so I pick it up and tuck it in beside her. Then I switch off the lamp and turn toward the door.
