Page 45 of Three Pucking Words
I grab my shrimp. “Just eat your food” I cut him off, trying not to blush. Because I really don’t want to talk about the potential future of my dating life with my father.
“—then I’d approve,” he finishes anyway. “I want you to be happy, Honor. To have the kind of love that…” He stops himself and takes a deep breath.
The kind of love that he has with Sylvia, I realize is what he’s going to say.
It doesn’t make me feel bitter or mad or sad like it would have if I were a child. If anything, I find the sentiment kind of…sweet.
I glance up at him through my lashes.
He’s watching me, his throat bobbing with something that he’s holding back.
I let out a small breath. “Noted. Can we please eat now?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. We can eat.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bodhi
Gemma runs aroundthe back yard with a bubble gun that’s almost the same size as her. “Be lucky it wasn’t another Nerf gun,” Tori, Sebastian’s wife, tells me with a grin.
I groan, thinking of the last time Henderson brought a gift for my daughter. It was a Nerf Blaster machine gun with over five-thousand rounds of Velcro darts that could be loaded into an ammo belt. The thing was twice the size of her and only took her twenty minutes to nail Sebastian in the eye on accident. Then she hit him square in the groin with at least ten rounds all in rapid succession. I never thought it could hurt that bad until she got me in the same spot at a speed I didn’t realize Nerf guns could blast at.
I’d made her put it up after that.
“True,” I agree, watching her chase Sebastian around. Then I turn to study their son who’s dozing in her arms. “If he buys her all of this shit, I can’t imagine what he’s going to do when Beckham is big enough to start playing with the same toys.”
Tori gives me a bland look. “Don’t get me started. He’s already talking about all of the things he’s waiting to get for him. I’ve had to talk him down from half of it, and the other half is piling up in our basement waiting to be opened when he reaches the proper age range.”
“Are ice skates one of them?”
She groans. “Yes. He bought them in at least five different sizes so he can grow into them. But what if Beckham doesn’t want to skate?”
From across the yard, we here, “Don’t say that!” from Sebastian. “He’ll be just like his daddy.”
“God help us then,” I say to Tori, loud enough for my best friend to hear.
She blows out a raspberry with her lips. “All I’m saying is that we should be supporting whatever hobbies he might want to entertain. He could be a football player for all we know.”
Tori is talking quiet enough for her husband not to hear, because we both know that Sebastian has always wanted to teach his kids how to skate. I’m sure if Beckham, or any future Henderson, was interested in another sport he’d be fully supportive. He might not like it, but my grandfather hated my love for hockey and still showed up. I have no doubt my best friend would do the same.
“He’ll be fine with whatever Beck chooses,” I reassure her. When I see her try to adjust the sleepy Beckham in her arms, I reach out toward him. “Let me take him.”
I know from personal experience that the little boy is a solid twenty-five pounds, and I’d bet anything her arms are asleep from holding him. I set my drink down on the patio table and grab him from her, smiling as he nuzzles into me.
She gives me a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m going to use the bathroom real quick. If he wakes up and fusses, pass him to his dad. He can deal with it”
I stoke their son’s hair, which is longer than it usually is. Last time I saw them, I asked Sebastian if he was trying to get his son’s hair to be longer than mine. He’d flipped me off and told me he’d buzz cut Beckham’s hair before he ever had a man bun. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him.”
There was a lot I missed when Gemma was younger, and I blame myself every day for not trying harder to be more involved. Sure, Inez wasn’t particularly in love with the idea of coparenting since I’d told her it wouldn’t work out between us as a couple, but I’d wanted to still be there as a parent. She was hurt, so I get the resentment she had toward me. But that cost me precious time with our daughter that I’ll never get back. Her first steps. Her first word. Her first tooth. Her first haircut.
Every time I start to go down that rabbit hole of all the things I missed, I remember where Inez is right now. It halts the train of thought and buries it, because at least Ihavetime with Gemma. I have more firsts to experience that her mother won’t be there for. Experiences Inez deserved more of.
Sebastian jogs over and grabs the beer he abandoned to play with Gemma. “What’s up? You look constipated.”
I glare at him. “Just thinking.”
“Ah.” He nods once, studying me. “Got it.”
