Proving Paul's Promise(34)

Paul

It’s almost eight at night, and Friday still isn’t home. Hayley is with her mom this week, so I don’t have much else to do except pace and wait for Friday to come home. I can’t f*cking believe she left me like that on the subway platform. She won. For now. But when I find her, I’m going to get her spill her guts and tell me her secrets. She’s carrying an awfully big burden, and I wish she’d let me help her with it.

My phone buzzes, and it’s Logan sending me another picture of Kit. This time, she has a piece of paper on her belly that says, I wonder when my Uncle Paul is going to come and visit.

I shake my head and grin. Then I grab the keys to my motorcycle and go down to the garage to get it. I won it in a card game, and I can count the number of times I’ve ridden it on one hand. Logan uses it a lot more than I do. But it’s getting late, and I don’t want to ride the subway at this time of night. I never get accosted because of the way I look, but I do get a lot of curious glares because of the tats and piercings. People push their children behind their legs, and women put their purses on the other sides of their bodies, like I’m going to steal from them or something. Just because I have tattoos does not mean I am poor, a thief, or in need of their hard-earned cash.

I park at the hospital and go up to the ward where Emily is still waiting to be sent home. I knock softly and open the door. I stick my head in and see Emily sitting in a chair with Kit pulled close to her breast. She rocks and motions me forward. She points toward the bed and rolls her eyes.

“He got tired,” she says, shaking her head.

Logan is stretched out in the hospital bed with his mouth hanging open. The best thing about having a brother who is deaf is that he can sleep through anything, so I don’t even worry about talking while he’s sleeping. I sit down across from Emily, and she just stares at me.

“She was here a few minutes ago,” Emily says. She quirks her brow.

“Who?” I ask. I try to look like I have no idea what she is talking about.

She snorts. “Who do you think?”

I don’t say anything. Emily pops the baby off her breast with a grimace and fixes her shirt. She does it all under a blanket, so it’s not the least little bit weird. Then she hands Kit to me and throws a burp cloth over my shoulder.

“See if you can burp her,” she says with a laugh.

“I just happen to be a master burper,” I say to Kit. She squirms in my arms like a caterpillar trying to makes its way out of a cocoon. I put her gently on my shoulder and pat her on the back. “When are you going home?” I ask Emily.

“Tomorrow morning,” she says.

“Everything okay?” I ask. Kit lets out the sweetest and loudest burp next to my ear, and it makes me laugh. “Good one. You sound like your daddy,” I say to her as I lower her in my arms and cradle her close to me.

“Everything is fine.” She jerks her thumb toward Logan. “I told him to go home and get some sleep, because we’re not going to get much rest when she comes home. But he refused.”

“He’s smart,” I say to Kit, making baby talk. “His mama taught him right from wrong,” I say in a singsong voice, talking to the baby still.

“He sounded like Henry, telling me that he can’t sleep without me. Without us.” Henry is a dear old friend of ours whose wife died recently. He was the doorman in Emily’s building when she came back to town, and he’s part of all our lives now. Her eyes well with tears as she looks over at Kit. She swipes a hand beneath her nose.

“I’m so glad he found you,” I say to Emily. I look directly into her eyes when I say it so that I won’t confuse her. I want to be very clear. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“He’s the only one who ever accepted me exactly as I am.”

“Hey!” I cry in playful protest. “We all accepted you.”

She smiles softly. “The Reeds are a special bunch.”

“You can blame that on our mom,” I tell her.

The room goes silent for a minute, and I take in the beauty that is their daughter. She is asleep already, and she looks so peaceful. She’s perfect. “How was Friday?” I finally ask in the silence.

Emily shrugs. “She’s Friday.”

“Is she coming home tonight?” I ask. I brush my hands along the silken down on top of Kit’s head.

“Probably,” she says.

I heave a sigh and pinch the skin at the bridge of my nose.

“Keep pushing her,” she says.

I jerk my head up. That was the last thing I expected her to say. “What?”

“Keep pushing her,” she says again. “She’s got a lot of baggage. And you can’t help her carry it until she’s willing to present it to you. So, keep pushing.”

“You know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I just know someone who’s hiding. I did it myself. I can see the signs. She desperately wants someone to find her. And probably for someone to forgive her for whatever she did, so she can forgive herself.” She shrugs. “I’m just guessing, of course. I could be completely wrong.”

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t worry about being gentle. Just be yourself. You know what to say and do.” She looks at me with a soft smile on her face.