Page 11 of Vince
Vince
Until then…really?Man, I’ve got zero game.
I’m still thinking about that ridiculous comment hours later, after I’ve gotten Julia through her nighttime routine and read her a bedtime story. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, trying to study, but all I can think of is the fiery redhead from this afternoon.
Not that I have time to date as I’m typically helping Van and Julia. Van picked up an evening shift to cover for someone calling in sick. This is a typical Tuesday for us. Not that I’m complaining.
I will do anything to help Van not become a teenage statistic. Dad drilled it into both of our heads that less than two percent of teen moms graduate from college before age thirty. Mom and Dad were planning to help Van through school, but after their accident, I became hellbent on ensuring she graduates from college on time. Besides—Julia’s one of the best kids in the world—so it’s no hardship spending time with her.
Van hates not being here for bedtime—but occasionally when someone needs a shift covered, she knows I’m here to help. For the most part, she can handle everything on her own, but one of us has to be home with Jules for bedtime. That’s non-negotiable. So, when I can lighten her load, I always try.
Van goes above and beyond to be there for Julia. She’s at the diner by six every morning and arranges her class and work schedule to be done before the on-campus daycare closes. She’s a freaking rockstar, and I couldn’t be prouder of her if I tried. It’s a crazy life, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love my mornings with Julia before dropping her off at daycare on my way to work or class by eight.
When I’ve realized I’ve read the same paragraph for the third time, I know it’s time to give up on studying for the night. It’s already after nine, and Van should be home any minute. I clear my things from the kitchen table and stash them in my room before checking on Julia one last time. Usually she’ll chatter a million miles a minute, but the second her head hits the pillow, we barely get through a couple pages of a bedtime story, and she’s out like a light.
When I peek into her room, I notice she’s already got one leg out and a hand is draped over her head. She’s out for the count, and I doubt we’ll hear from her before morning. Now that she’s growing out of the toddler stage, waking up in the middle of the night is rare.
Not that I typically get up with her, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t taken my turn, to let Vanessa get some sleep before her early shifts. I swear, it takes a village to raise a kid. I have no idea how Van would do this entirely on her own. I know she’s more than capable, but why should she need to be? That’s what I’m here for.
Just as I settle onto the couch and pull up NCIS from the DVR, I hear the garage door open. I pause because I know she’ll watch it with me if I let her take a quick shower and change first. Thank God, she’s not a shower lingerer. I know we’ll be watching the show within twenty minutes or so.
Standing to greet her I stretch my arms almost to the ceiling, as she walks into the living room. “Hey, how was work?”
Vanessa shrugs as she tosses her purse on the table next to her favorite over-sized chair. “The usual. Hopefully, Tara will be better by tomorrow. She’s called in a few days now—apparently, she’s finally able to eat solid food again. I spoke with her on the phone and from what she says, I’m more than happy she stays away until this sickness is long gone. No, thank you—We certainly don’t need the flu in our house.”
“No,” I reiterate the sentiment. “We definitely don’t need that. Are you hungry? I was gonna make a snack and watch NCIS. Care to join me?”
“Sure. I grabbed something on my last break, but if you want to get me some iced tea, I’d gladly drink it. I’ll be out in a few.”
When she turns toward her bedroom, I make my way into the kitchen and make a plate of nachos for myself. I stack on a few more chips than necessary, knowing these are something Van can never refuse.
By the time I’ve got drinks and nachos ready, I hear the water shut off in the bathroom. While I wait, I scroll through my favorite social media site on my phone. When I see an ad with a cute redhead, I can’t help but wish I knew Sydney’s last name. Not that I’d be stalking her—but I am curious to learn more about her.
Thankfully, I don’t have time to dwell on this because Van appears dressed in her pajamas, brushing her long, wet hair. Typically, it’s a lot blonder than mine, but when it’s wet, it’s much darker. “So, how was Jules tonight? Did she go down easy?”
“I know how to wear her out.” I chuckle. “We went for a bike ride… well, I walked, and she rode. I think she’s about ready to ditch her training wheels. When she turns corners, one side completely lifts. Do you mind if I take them off and teach her next time we go out?”
“Really? You think she’s ready?” Vanessa asks in disbelief.
I nod, and Vanessa shakes her head. Clearly, she thinks Jules is growing up way too fast.
“Can I be there to record it?” she asks but quickly tacks on, “Please promise me you won’t let go unless she’s good and ready?”
I give her awhat do you take me forlook, which earns me an eye roll.
God, I love my sister.
Chuckling, I ask, pretending to sound exasperated, “Are we ready to watch this show, or what?”
“Okay, Vinny. Let’s watch the show. I’m opening in the morning.”
I don’t bother responding, as I already knew this. I settle into the couch by lying back and propping my feet up on the coffee table.
I nearly choke on a nacho when I realize Van’s got nothing on the feisty girl I’ve been thinking about all day.
“You okay, Vin?” my sister asks with concern.
“Yep. Just fine.” I manage when I get my first breath of clear air. There’s no way I’m telling Van about a girl I’ve just met. I’ll never hear the end of it.
