Page 63 of Last Love

“Epitome of sexy and aging like the finest wine,” she coos.

“You do know that I am at the table?” Her husband playfully pokes.

“And not even on his phone,” Ry good-naturedly adds fuel to the fire.

He points a firm finger his brother’s direction yet gets it put down by his wife, “How about we hire a sitter, and it can just be the four of us? Think how nice it would be to do that. It has been ages since we have had that sort of one-on-one time.”

Guilt flashes in Noah’s expression, “Shel-”

“I know, love. I know. I am not saying it is entirely your fault. Work calls and you must answer. Plus, you have been lending your time to discussing higher learning institutes with your brother and his sponsor, therefore you have had even less hours in the day than normal; however, I am saying this is the perfect opportunity to make it up to me.”

“By letting my little brother give you food poisoning?”

Swallowing my laughter isn’t properly done due to my boyfriend’s outburst, “Hey!”

She giggles, winks his direction, and offers her husband a dopey grin its obvious he won’t be saying no to.

“Fine,” Noah defeatedly sigh. “I’ll have Clio carve me out a night for dinner in the next couple of weeks, okay?”

“Perfect.” She plants a chaste kiss on his lips.

Shelby suddenly fusses loudly, demanding attention from anyone willing to give it. Fortunately for her, we all turn her direction, which not only delights her but prompts her to wiggle in desperation for someone to hold her.

“How about Uncle Ryder and Aunt Pres get you cleaned up, bumble bee?” my boyfriend lovingly inquires to the little one like she can answer.

The fact he refers me to as Aunt Pres I’m sure should freak me out, yet it’s the only term that feels right.

“Are you certain that you do not mind?” Shelly asks at the same time she rises to her feet.

“Of course not,” Ry brushes off as we stand up. “You know I never do.”

“Why don’t I help you grab dessert while the two of them spend a little one on one time with their niece?” Noah lovingly suggests to his wife.

And him calling me that should also have me yelling at the top of my lungs for everyone to slow down, to pump the brakes, but it doesn’t.

It actually inspires quite the opposite.

It makes me wanna stop taking my pill and get knocked up so our kids can start calling them aunt and uncle.

Ugh.

I think I need a one-on-one session with Katherine about how absurd this shit is on a scale of one to Cheaper by the Dozen.

“Time for the scrub-a-dub-dub monster,” Ry playfully announces during the transition of Shelby from her chair to his arms. “And you hate the scrub-a-dub-dub monster, don’t you?” She gleefully gurgles and smears her dirty fingers all along his scuff covered cheek. “Fuggle…” He groans in unhappiness. “Really, bumble bee? Just right on Uncle Ryder’s face?”

“They do that.” I offer to take her, and she immediately lunges for me. “And they don’t care how you feel about it.”

He reaches for his napkin on the table to wipe away some of the food off his face prior to escorting me into the nearby living room.

While the open space could easily fit three smaller seating areas within it, there’s a smooth, gradual flow from one end of the room to the other that offers the most modern luxury seating choices to the friendliest family gathering near the fireplace and television. The area is decorated in a high modern, high artsy fashion yet still somehow possesses the warmest child welcoming vibe due to the abundant number of toys, books, and adorably designed baby crafts displayed all around.

We flop down on the plush gray sofa with Ry beside one of the end tables. He retrieves the box wet wipes to begin the task, and I keep her distracted by singing a silly nursery song that requires over the top animation. By the time, I’ve finished the third loop of the song, she’s spotless and most importantly, still happy versus screaming in misery.

Ry basketball tosses the dirty wipes into the nearest trashcan. “You’re clearly a direct descendent of a Sesame Street character.”

Laughter from Shelby swatting my hand away as I pretend to steal her nose turns into laughter directed at her uncle. “What?!”

“It’s never been that easy to get her clean. Effing ever.” He makes a monster like paw and sends it sailing toward her. “So, clearly, you must be related to one of them or maybe a Muppet because those are the only things that I know that can keep my niece that happy and that distracted that long.”

Pretending to save her from the “monster hand” of Ry causes her to giggle louder. “Or…maybe I’ve just been doing this long enough to know more tricks of the trade than you.”

“Maybe I wanna learn some tricks of the trade too.”

During her wiggles, Shelby notices one of her toys on the coffee table and begins to whine for it. “You want a job at my school?”

“I want the job as a father to our children.”

His declaration is short-lived courtesy of Noah and Shelly entering the room with dessert items. “Our sincerest apologies, that took so long. Someone had a phone call he had to answer.”

Ry looks displeased while handing his niece the baby guitar it’s clear she wants. “Clio again?”

“Liz.” Our stares shift to where he’s putting out coasters for cups. “She wanted to know how Dad was doing.”

My face twitches in curiosity; however, Noah speaks again before I ask for details.

“Do you wanna know?” Noah directs his question at his brother once he’s settled on the slightly curved couch across from us. “Do you want to know how he or Mom or even Liz is doing?”

“No.” Ry instantly directs his attention back to his niece. “Come here, bumble bee. Let Uncle Ryder teach you how to become the next Eddie Van Halen.”

Shelly settles beside her husband on a teasing scold, “Everyone knows Jimi Hendrix was a much superior guitarist.”

My boyfriend shoots her a mirth-filled glare. “You really wanna do this? You really want me to embarrass you in front of your husband and future sister-in-law?”

Shelly snickers, grabs some strange looking cookie from the plate she brought in, and shrugs. “Bring it on, Ryder.”

Noah releases an exasperated sigh, “How about instead of comparing guitar heroes-”

“That’s a video game, bumble bee,” Ry states, looking down at Shelby who is pounding on the toy. “It’s gonna be ancient by the time you’re ready to play video games.”

His brother’s calm demeanor begins to shift. “Ryder.”

“I said no, Noah.” He doesn’t bother making eye contact. “Let the ish go.”

“Is um…is something wrong with your father?” I innocently ask.

My attempt to bridge the gap backfires.

“You haven’t even told her?!” Noah barks as he leans forward. “Are you fucking kidding me with that shit?”

“Language,” Shelly quietly does the chastising I usually do.

“What happened to this being my hill to fucking die on?”

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