Page 53 of All the Forbidden Things
“I’m starving.” Jake stands. “Let’s go eat. Did Mel make Yorkshires? I love her Yorkies—wait, it is a roast, right? Please tell me we’re having a roast? It’s Sunday, it’s gotta be a roast.”
Jake heads out the door, wondering aloud what might be on his plate while Cal and I remain staring at each other.
“Are you worried that I’m no longer committed to the band? Because I won’t give up my music, but I also won’t give up my little girl.”
His eyebrows raise as he laughs sardonically. “Are you fucking shitting me? Obviously, it’s now your turn to say something stupid. I should smack you in the mouth for that comment.”
Now it’s my eyebrows that raise, and I take a slight step back.
“I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I don’t wanna see you burn out from all the pressure you’re under… I wanna help. You’re family—Layla’s family—and I wanna try and figure a way we can do this that works for you, for the band, but mostly for Layla.”
“I know that, I just feel like everyone has suddenly become an expert on what’s best for Layla and me. I’m doing my fucking best in a really shitty situation.”
He slaps me in the middle of my back, gently guiding me towards the stairs and door. “No one’s judging you, Max, you’re doing a great fucking job, and just because we’re offering help and suggestions, it doesn’t mean we think you’re fucking up, far from it … now let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
When we reach the house,the smell of food hits my senses, making my belly grumble again, because again, I actually don’t remember the last time I ate.
“I’ve set all the food out on the benchtop, plates to the side, cutlery and condiments on the table, just help yourselves.”
Joss Stone’s “4 And 20” is playing over my sound system, and I pause in the arched entryway to my kitchen. Mel is putting an apple pie in the oven, and Kenz is pouring gravy over Jake’s dinner while he holds his plate out to her and eats a Yorkshire pudding at the same time. Cal is putting food on his plate while looking over his shoulder and staring at his wife’s arse. When I look through into the family room, Billie’s holding Layla to her chest while singing and dancing to the song.
My insides do a thing as I watch her, but I’m not sure what kind ofthingit is they do. Did everything inside me just relax or pull tight? I don’t have a fucking clue.
“You checking out my ass?” Mel laughs, and I turn in time to see her swat at her husband’s shoulder.
“He totally was,” Jake pipes up.
Cal glares at him while he, too, shoves a Yorkshire pudding into his mouth. “I totally was,” Cal admits around a mouthful of roasted batter.
Mel stills, her face flushed from the heat in the kitchen. She has an oven glove hanging from one hand and flour on her cheek but still manages to look cute as she smiles at him.
“Your tits look great in that T, so I’m probably gonna be staring at them over dinner too.”
She shakes her head before saying, “It’s lunch.”
“What?” Cal questions.
“It’s only 3:00 PM. It’s Sunday lunch, not dinner.”
He nods. “Don’t give a fuck what time it is, I’ll still be staring at your tits and arse.”
She grins and throws the oven glove at him. Cal snatches it from the air and smiles back.
A moment of jealousy wells in my chest . . . I’ve never had that. Whit was my wife, we were together for over a year, but we never had that. What if I never have that?
The sound of my own voice singing a cover of First Time Ever I Saw Your Face has my gaze returning to Billie, swaying around my family room with Layla still in her arms. When my eyes land on her, she’s staring right at me. And fuck me if I don’t feel it again, thatthing.
An electrical current pulse from my chest. It reaches across the space between us then shortens, pulling me deeper into the room, closer to her.
A shy smile plays across Billie’s lips. She kisses Layla’s head oh-so-tenderly, and I sway on my feet. What the fuck is happening to me?
“Every time I stop moving,” Billie explains, “she gets fidgety.”
“She’s crafty. It’s my fault; I hold her too much.”
Billie shakes her head. “No such thing. She won’t be a baby forever, and then you’ll be chasing her for cuddles. I’d be getting as many in now as I could too.”
“I make excuses as to why I’m picking her up again, but then I do it anyway,” I admit.
