Good for You: A Novel (59)

“Then you haven’t been by yourselves for six months? You definitely have to get out of here,” said Wyatt. He pretended to shoo them away, then took Beckett’s hand and made a waving motion, which Beckett immediately began mimicking. “Bye-bye, daddies!” Wyatt said in a playful voice. “Enjoy your grown-up time!”

As someone who didn’t even like children, Aly never would’ve guessed that watching Wyatt with an infant could be such a turn-on. But something about a large man with a tiny baby pressed some primal button in her. Or maybe it was just seeing him look so happy that made her feel all tingly.

“Okay, okay,” said Harry as Tim pushed him toward the door. “Do not hesitate to let us know if you need anything.”

“We will. Enjoy your brunch!” Aly called after them. She turned back to Wyatt. “Now what do we do?”

“We hang out with this cute little fella,” said Wyatt. “Easy as can be.”

Aly shook her head. “I’m sorry—who are you, and where is the giant grump I call a roommate?”

Wyatt grinned at her. “He’s been in a better mood since his roommate started sharing a bed with him.”

Aly had to laugh. “You are so ridiculous.”

“But I’m right,” he said and kissed the top of her head.

“Hmph.” Beckett reached for her, and the next thing she knew, he was in her arms. “He is pretty charming,” she admitted as his chubby little hand explored her face.

“Sure is. Makes me excited to have a little one of my own.”

Aly did a double take. “Really.”

“Yeah,” said Wyatt with a lopsided smile. “Don’t you want to have kids one day?”

Aly glanced at Beckett. Even if she had a child like him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a mother. “No.” But this sounded more certain than she truly felt. “Well, I don’t know. I’m afraid . . .”

“Of what?” he asked lightly.

“That I won’t know how to do it,” she admitted. After a moment, she added, “That I’ll end up being like my parents.”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I don’t need to have met both of them to know that the apple fell far from the tree.”

“I’m sure my father didn’t think he’d turn out like his dad,” said Aly, thinking about what her mother had said about Dan.

“Didn’t he, though?” asked Wyatt, arching an eyebrow. “He could have at least put some thought into how to be a halfway decent human being. Meanwhile, look at you. Practically maternal.”

Without thinking, Aly had begun swaying with Beckett. She’d never babysat as a teen, but this seemed natural. Of course, Beckett was Harry’s child; it stood to reason that she felt a bond with him.

“Hardly,” said Aly. “And watch—the minute he starts walking and talking I’m going to freeze up. I’m horrible with kids.”

“If you say so,” said Wyatt.

“I do. That’s exactly what I say. Isn’t that right, shmoopy?” she said to Beckett. “Uncle Wyatt is so weird.”

“Uncle!” he said, laughing.

She flushed when she realized what she’d said. Why were they even talking about this? “Don’t get any ideas. It’s just a term of endearment. Speaking of parents . . .”

Wyatt sank into the sofa. “I haven’t spoken to my mother, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”

“I wasn’t. But maybe I should,” she hedged. “Why don’t you ever pick up when she calls?”

“I told you. I’m taking a break from them.”

Aly handed Beckett a rubber giraffe, which he immediately began gnawing on.

“Seems like she hasn’t gotten the memo. And from what you’ve told me, she’s not that bad.”

“We could make that argument about Cindy, no?” said Wyatt, raising his eyebrows.

“Actually, that’s what I was going to tell you. She came over again on Tuesday and wanted to talk about Luke.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

This was a good question. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I was trying not to think about it. She . . . she wants to have a memorial.”

“But Luke didn’t want that,” said Wyatt, whose expression had clouded over.

“I told her that, but she said that they’re for the living. Not the . . . you know.”

“I do.” Wyatt rose from the sofa and walked over to Aly and Beckett. He leaned in toward the baby and said, “What do you think, big guy?”

Beckett banged his hands on Wyatt’s chest, and he laughed. Then he looked at Aly. “I don’t know—it’s not the worst idea.”

“Who would even go?” asked Aly. Luke hadn’t dated anyone seriously in years, and although she knew his friends missed him, most were in New York or Los Angeles and weren’t likely to fly to Michigan for a brief event.

“You. Me. Your mom. Not your dad,” Wyatt said pointedly.

“Even I can’t plan something like that that fast,” said Aly.

“Not this month,” said Wyatt, touching her cheek lightly. “It would be in September.”