Page 36 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
“You could drop me and the girls off at home first,” I suggested. “I’ll be happy to watch them in the pool until you get back.”
Sully turned off the car and opened his door. “No. I need your opinion. I’m no good at picking out women’s clothes. Come on girls. I’ll buy you something too.”
That was all it took to send Skyla and Claire scrambling from their seats to comply.
As Sully and I walked together on the aged brick sidewalk, the girls skipped a bit ahead of us, stopping to press their noses against the glass windows of the shops that interested them.
They oohed and ahhed over the Cake Gallery, peeked into a divine-smelling soap shop called Beauty and the Bath, and barely glanced at Grooves on Main, a retro record store that actually looked really interesting to me.
The front window of Bonny Books, which was owned by Cinda’s friend Bonnie Bestia, featured a fun beach-themed display and had the girls begging to go inside.
“We will—after we get Nana’s gift. I promise. I’ll buy you all the books you want.”
“Yay,” Skyla cheered and pulled Claire along with her to the next store window.
“You really do spoil them, you know,” I said quietly.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased.
I laughed at his lack of repentance. “Well, it’s not generally considered to be agoodthing.”
Sully was quiet for a long moment before responding. “I just want them to be happy. I want their childhood to be the exact opposite of mine, with plenty of everything, no worries, no fears—only good things.”
It was the first time he’d mentioned anything negative about his past. I wondered what had caused him worry and fear as a child—and why he hadn’t had all he needed.
My heart surged toward him, or rather toward that long-ago little boy.
That was all it was—empathy for whatever had made his childhood the opposite of happy and secure. I had the most powerful urge to reach for his hand, to offer comfort and understanding, but I resisted.
“Did you grow up without much money?” I asked casually.
He huffed a laugh that was devoid of humor. “That’s an understatement. We were dirt poor. We lived in a series of run-down month-to-month rentals, each one worse than the last. I swear if I never see another rat again it’ll be too soon.”
He shook his head as if trying to dislodge a particularly sticky bad memory.
“Your parents didn’t work?” I asked, trying to understand the source of the abject poverty that had made his early life so difficult.
“It was just me and my mom. There were some substance abuse issues. Her own home life wasn’t so hot when she was young. She had me when she was in high school and dropped out. She did odd jobs here and there, and she had boyfriends who’d give her money from time to time.”
“Where was your dad?”
“Who knows? I never even knew who he was.”
I nodded, unable to relate to his experience of living in poverty and squalor but completely understanding the experience of growing up missing a father you’d never met.
“I never knew my dad either,” I confessed. “All Mother would say was that he was in her life until he found out she was pregnant with me. Then he was gone. She wouldn’t even speak his name.”
Sully turned to look at me, his blue eyes intense with compassion. “I’m sorry. I know that was hard. I guess we’re both kind of experts on damaged moms and absentee dads.”
An electric thread of connection hummed between us as we walked the next few steps in silence. I wondered if Sully felt it too.
If he did, he gave no indication. His eyes were on his daughters, making sure they were not getting too far ahead. Making sure they were safe. Being that protector he never had.
“You don’t have to buy them things to make them happy, you know,” I finally said. “After being with them day in and day out, I can tell you what gives them the most joy is being withyou. They crave your time and attention.”
So do I.
God help me, it was true. It shouldn’t be, but I couldn’t seem to prevent the spike in my pulse rate every evening when Sully came up from his basement gym, drenched with sweat and declaring himself “disgusting” before he trotted upstairs to shower.
