Shameless(8)

I bounce the baby on my lap while he watches with rapt attention. “You’re so good with her,” he says. “I don’t know how she’ll ever take to me like she does you.”

“I have a younger sister and ten-thousand little cousins, and while most little girls were out playing with dolls, I was changing diapers and getting spit up on. So don’t feel bad. I’ve had a lifetime of being around kids. You’ll get the hang of this.”

He looks worried, and my heart melts a little. Without thinking, I grab his shoulder to nudge him farther back on the couch, but the contact sends a jolt through me, and I jerk back.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice my bizarre reaction. Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I motion toward him. “Can you... can you scoot back?” I mumble, placing Isabella in his lap once he’s in a better position.

His enormous hands immediately wrap around her pudgy waist.

Ignoring my flustered state, I smile. “Brady, I’d like to introduce you to your niece, Isabella.”

Bella stares up at him and grins, showing off her shiny new teeth a second before she grabs his face. He laughs. “Hey, little lady. I’m your Uncle Brady.”

She giggles, and I swear to God, her cheeks turn pink.

“Aww. She’s totally smitten with you.” He tickles Isabella, and she giggles again. I should stop right there, but my mouth can’t seem to help itself. “Looks like your uncle is a ladies’ man.” What did I just say? “I mean, you have her in the palm of your hand. Like you’re good with women.”

I glance at his face, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Great. Way to welcome the guy. Make him think you’re hitting on him.

“I’m just gonna go make her dinner.” I motion toward the kitchen as I get up and try to get away without making a complete fool of myself. “Holler if you guys need anything.”

I’m almost out of the room when he calls out, “Katherine.” Hearing him say my name in that deep, rumbly voice sends goose bumps down my arms.

I turn back, hoping to God he doesn’t think I’m some weirdo. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. I’m sure I don’t even know how much you’ve helped my family.”

My stomach twists. If only he knew. “You don’t have to thank me. Really.” And then I scurry into the kitchen.





5





Brady





Isabella’s sky-blue eyes stare up at me as she smiles a toothless grin. Hold up. She has two teeth. I run my hand along the curly patch of hair on her head, mesmerized at how soft it is. And she smells… good. Like baby powder and something floral. I don’t know why I thought she’d smell like cheese. I guess I always thought kids were kind of stinky.

She keeps patting my face and smiling, which makes it almost impossible to not grin back.

“Hey, baby.” Why am I speaking in a little voice? Honestly, I’m not sure, but it feels right so I’m running with it. “I’m sorry it took so long to get down here, but it looks like you were in good hands with your Aunt Katherine.”

And when did Katherine become the baby’s aunt? No f*cking clue, but the baby doesn’t seem to care that I’m talking out my ass. She giggles and coos and squishes my cheeks.

“So, Isabella. Is that what everyone calls you? That’s kind of a long name for such a little girl. Do you mind if I call you Izzy?”

She claps and giggles some more, so I take that as a sign. “Great. Izzy it is. Can you say my name? Can you say Bray-dee? Bray-dee.”

“Bway-Bway! Bway-Bway!”

Something about her saying my name expands my chest. Holy shit. That’s amazing.

I’m immediately overwhelmed by the love I have for Izzy. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but that’s the only way to describe it. Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my niece.

The thought gives me pause. Confounds me, really. Because, in a way, isn’t this the very thing I mocked my brother for experiencing? Mocked him for having inexplicable emotions for someone he just met?

I’ve been a fool.

Izzy calls my name again.

“Atta girl.” Holding her up, I blow a raspberry on her tummy and enjoy her bubbly peals of laughter before pulling her in for a hug. She squirms in my lap, kicking her chubby legs as though she’s trying to stand. I lean back on the couch and hold her arms while she tries to balance on my lap.

Izzy tilts to the left, and I pretend she’s going to fall, saying, “Whoa!” dramatically, before scooping her into my arms. She laughs so hard that her nose scrunches up.

She’s wearing sweatpants and a pint-sized Spurs t-shirt. I point at her belly and shake my head. “I need to introduce you to a team called the Celtics, and while we’re at it”—I motion to the Red Sox logo emblazoned on my chest—“we need to talk baseball. Every girl needs to know about baseball. And don’t let some boy tell you a girl can’t play because that’s BS.”

Izzy nods like she understands and then scoots off my lap. I take her hand and hover over her as she waddles toward the kitchen. Her thick socks slide on the hard wood, so I grip her forearms snugly enough she doesn’t take a tumble.