Page 44 of Landing Her Eagle
I press a kiss to Ari’s curls and breathe in her baby scent. She chooses that moment to let out a massive fart, and I am no longer smelling the sweet smell of baby soap and detergent. Instead, I’m engulfed in a cloud of something much more pungent. I think it even surprised the baby because her rosebud lips form an O shape, and then she giggles like it’s the funniest joke ever.
“Come here, princess. Let’s go check your diaper.” Pierre extracts his giggling daughter from my grasp. “Sorry, she gets away with it because she’s cute.” He presses a kiss to her cheek and leaves the room.
“How can one little girl produce a smell so rank?” I ask.
Marisol laughs as she sets the coffee service on the table in front of the sofa and takes a seat in the armchair across from me. “Wait until you have your own children, Logan. Passed gas won’t even make the top ten of the gross things you’ll encounter in a day.”
She pours coffee into the cups, its aroma wafting and helping to erase the stink bomb Ariana subjected us to.
“While we’re on the subject of your children…” she says in her velvety Spanish accent.
“We aren’t,” I interject.
Mari ignores me and continues. “How are things with Daphne? She didn’t come with you?”
I add cream and sugar to my coffee, knowing from experience that Mari’s coffee needs to be diluted if I want any hope of sleeping in the next three days.
I take a sip and sigh. “No, she didn’t come with me. She needs to renew her passport and has work. This all came up too suddenly for her to get away. She’s not very spontaneous.” I let out a huff of humorless laughter. “It’s funny. I’m so go with the flow, and she’s not, but we’re perfect for each other.”
Mari’s bark of laughter was not what I was expecting.
“My dear, sweet, delusional man, you’re one of the leastgo with the flowpeople I know. You give the impression of being a vagabond, going wherever the wind takes you, but you’ve planned everything out, and if your initial plan doesn’t work, you move on to plans B through Q. You make it seem effortless and spontaneous, but you couldn’t be as successful as you are without having things planned.”
I’m not sure how to respond. She’s not wrong. I do plan things, but that’s being responsible.
“You’re able to be…spontaneous…because you don’t have any responsibilities.” She stops me before I can react. “Logan, I love you, so I’m going to tell you the truth, even though you don’t want to hear it.” She takes a sip of coffee.
I decide to take one too, in part to brace myself, but also so I have something in my hands to anchor me. I nod for her to continue but lean forward with my forearms resting on my thighs, braced to defend myself.
She places her cup on the table and gently puts a hand on my arm, oblivious to my defensive position. Or trying to break it down.
“I’m not saying you’re a wastrel. You work, you’re responsible, but if you decided tomorrow you didn’t want to be a travel photographer, you could quit and not destroy your world. From what you’ve told me, you don’t have a car payment, you don’t pay rent—ah ah ah.” She gives me an admonishing glare when I go to interrupt her. “Yes, you pay Daphne, but it’s not the same as having a mortgage and utilities. If you weren’t living with her, you could live with your parents until you were ready to move somewhere else. Your parents carry your health insurance. You have your trust fund Pierre invests for you. You have parents and grandparents and a brother who all love you and support you. You’re very fortunate.”
The breath I was holding wooshes out. I guess I was afraid what she was going to say would hit too close to home. It did.
“Daphne doesn’t have any of that. She has you. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t have a safety net. She needs her job to have insurance, she has a house to support, and she needs to support herself. Even if she wanted to run away with you, and I’m sure she does, she can’t do it without planning things to make sure she’s covered her responsibilities and that if something happened, she could survive it financially and emotionally.”
I’m ashamed I didn’t consider all that. Of course, I would take care of Daphne, practically with things like health insurance, but also emotionally. If, God forbid, something happened to me, I’d make sure she was provided for. I can understand her caution. Her life was turned upside down when her parents died. Gran’s death wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but it always feels like it’s too soon when a loved one passes. My dear, sweet Daphne. All I want to do is make her happy and make sure she feels safe, secure, and loved.
“I’m such a jerk,” I moan to Marisol.
“Lolo jerk!” Sure, now Henri is paying attention to us.
Mari has become an expert at giving the mom look while saying her child’s name. It’s apparently an international skill, so my buddy goes back to rocking and watching his show.
Mari pats my shoulder. “You’re not a jerk, Logan. You’re just clueless. You can fix that. Idiocy can be overcome. Heartlessness cannot.”
The sounds of happy baby babbles reach us when Pierre returns carrying a non-smelly Ariana.
“Let’s try this again,” I say, reaching for her. I place a kiss on her curls and tell her she’s so much cuter when she doesn’t smell like a sewer. Okay, I don’t actually say she smelled like a sewer before, but it’s implied. I balance her on my lap, hold her hands, and bounce my knees in an alternate rhythm like she’s riding a horse. It makes her giggle, and I feel like I’m fulfilling my duties as an honorary uncle. Henri decides he’s done riding his rocking horse and comes over to climb on the couch next to me.
I stop bouncing Ariana, shifting her so she leans against my chest to enable me to put an arm around Henri when he cuddles into my side. I lean back on the couch and get comfortable because I assume I’ll be here a while with a pair of sleeping kids using me for a pillow.
Pierre quirks a brow in silent question—do I want to be relieved of his children? I shake my head. Having these two sturdy little bodies against me feels oddly soothing.
Picking up our previously abandoned conversation, Marisol asks, “Where are your bags? Did you leave them in the car?”
“I’m staying in a hotel this time. I’ll be talking to Daphne late in the evening, and I don’t want to disrupt your family. But thanks for always making me feel welcome and offering your home to me.”
