Page 19 of Last Love

Family that I’m gonna go balls to the wall to protect.

Even if it means punching my big brother in his fucking face to help him get his shit together.

“It is quite alright for you to address me like we are.”

My niece begins making a giggling sound as if she completely understands what her mother is saying.

“Oh, you like that?” I immediately tease, wiggling a finger near her nose. “You like when mommy fusses at me?”

She laughs again and reaches her dirty fingers to grab mine.

“You want Uncle Ryder to pick you up?”

The motion in her hands increases at the same instant her little feet kick unhappily.

“You want me to reward you for bad behavior?” My playful comments continue as my hands move to lift her out of her seat. “You want me to reward you for picking the side against me?”

Shelby gurgles and giggles and gurgles some more.

“Do you mind cleaning her face and hands while I start the dishes?”

“Not at all.” I answer alongside adjusting her in my arms. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, bumble bee. Make your face beautiful like your mommy’s again.”

We make our way to the kitchen where Shelly casually points to the space closest to their refrigerator. “I moved the wet wipes to that cabinet to better accommodate my latest food endeavor.”

“Which is?”

“Making my own baby food.”

Eh, her regular food is bland enough. Shouldn’t be that hard.

“How’s that goin’?”

“Not as much fun as baking cookies and binging The Office, but I do not hate it.”

I flash her a small smile while grabbing the tub from the counter.

“We did not get to touch on it at dinner due to our binging discussion, which drove Noah absolutely mad.” Her smirking is accompanied by the commencing of the dishes. “How is your new living situation treating you? It’s been a couple weeks now. Are you comfortable there?  Do you like your roommate? Should I have Dusana do an extra cleaning of your old room and bathroom?”

“Nah,” my answer is given about the same time my niece begins to squirm in displeasure over the mere sight of the box. “I really like it. McCoy’s a good dude. Easy to live with. Doesn’t bitch about much.”

“And do you still like working at Roscoe’s?”

“Yeah.” The wet wipe comes into my possession and Shelby huffs loudly. “Long hours. Sometimes really long days. But overtime is handy as fuck when you’ve got bills to pay and keeping my hands busy helps keep my ass out of trouble.”

Shelby immediately pushes my fingers away in tandem with dodging the damp object.

“Do you and McCoy hang out often?” Her rinsing of the dishes commences. “Perhaps go see the Hellcats play or simply binge something on the tele together like Black Sails?”

Hanging out isn’t something I do.

I’ve been a recluse for so long learning to be social reminds me of learning a foreign language in school except it doesn’t come with a textbook or fucking flash cards.

Thank fuck most dudes around the shop are outgoing and get most conversations rolling because otherwise I probably wouldn’t say shit for ten hours of the day.

We don’t chill outside of work though.

They wanna go grab wings and beers and blondes.

I wanna take a shit, take a shower, and stare at the T.V. until I figure out how it is Michael Scott doesn’t get fucking fired every episode.

“No,” my mumbled response is followed by me attempting to wipe Shelby’s face a second time, “he um…spends most of his time with his girl.”

“How is she?”

“Nice.” The shrug happens at the same time my niece slaps my hand in defiance again. “No, ma’am. No hitting.”

An otherworldly, shrill scream shoots free from her mouth as tears begins streaming like it’s raining in the house.

Panic instantly settles on my face, which causes my sister-in-law to glance over her shoulder and smile. “You are fine.”

“I don’t fucking think so, Shel.”

“You are.”

“She’s screaming bloody murder.”

“Oh, she just hates when anyone wipes her face.”

Shelby’s cries get louder.

Angrier.

Her kicking becomes frantic and tiny framing an out-of-control windup toy with no way to stop.

“Uh…Shel…?”

My sister-in-law shuts off the water, wipes her hands, and offers to take her out of my arms. “Come here, bumble bee. You are scaring your Uncle Ryder.”

The moment she’s shifted over, Shelby lies her head on her mother’s chest, an action that results in me swiftly apologizing. “Fuck me, I’m sorry I upset her.”

“You did not do anything wrong.”

Her soft reassurance doesn’t change my expression.

“Honestly, most babies do not like their hands, or their face wiped. And little miss bumble bee here knows that if she hollers loud enough you may stop. She does it to Noah literally all the time.” She takes the object from me and executes the action I struggled with. “And he always feels like a monster at the end of it, which causes him to give her extra snuggles. I am starting to believe this little thing is a diabolical genius.” There’s resistance to her wiping, yet Shelly continues. “Now, are you dating, yet? Which apps are you on?” My niece’s face finally becomes clean. “Or do you prefer to meet women the old fashion way at club or a bar or the Jucille Ball when you accidentally bump into one another in line for apple moonshine?”

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