Page 15 of Rock the Cradle of Love
“I don’t know. Here.” Noah thrusts Emma into Taylor’s arms. “I’m going to shower real quick, all right?”
Emma’s startled into stuttered breathing over outright crying.
“Sure, yeah,” says Taylor, ‘cause what else is he going to say? He turns Emma to face him. “Hey, Pretty Pretty Princess, what seems to be your major malfunction, huh?”
Big watery blue eyes stare at him; she takes in a deep shuddery breath and rubs tears and snot across her face with her tiny little fists.
“I’m sure Daddy fed you and changed you and all that good stuff, so you’re just not happy? I thought we were getting over this whole colic thing, huh? Or are you mad ‘cause your room’s not ready?” Taylor bounces her a bit as he takes a look at the living room, which looks much as it had when Taylor left midday Monday. Instead of cleaning up, they’d made phone calls and played Xbox.
The Styrofoam packing has been moved off the sofa and stacked up on the floor, but that seems to be all Noah’s done. Taylor remembers his sisters’ houses the first weeks after the birth of each kid, so he gets it. That’s where he came in. He loved helping out his sisters, and he’s perfectly happy to help Noah too.
“You know, darlin’, your daddy is doing the best he can. I know he’s not your mom, although, to be honest, you’ve done remarkably well without her…unless that’s what’s driving your tears today? Do you miss your mommy?” Taylor nabs a small blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps Emma up like a burrito. It’s not cold by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s still young enough to benefit from swaddling. Dealing with half a dozen nieces and nephews taught him that. He tucks her into his chest and jiggles her slightly. Takes a few slow laps around the kitchen and living room, picking up random things and putting them where they go. “You miss your mom, is that it?” he asks softly, rubbing her back and walking back and forth. “She loves you, Ems, she does, and sometimes doing what’s best for someone you love isn’t easy on anyone. Now, Noah isn’t your biological daddy…I don’t think…but he’s gonna be your real daddy, because your mom knows how much he loves her and how much he loves you as well. And in the end, everything is gonna work out. It’s hard now, sweetheart, but cut Noah some slack, huh?”
Emma lets out another shuddery breath, and Taylor presses a kiss to her peach-fuzzy head. He turns to make another pass across the living room and stops short upon seeing Noah leaning against the wall, arms crossed over that deliciously broad, defined chest, looking at them both with a soft expression. Hope makes Taylor’s stomach flutter. No, he isn’t completely certain Noah’s queer, but he’s developed enough of a gut feeling over the last couple of weeks to take Uncle Bud’s advice and tell Noah how he feels. Noah’s lack of freak out over the whole spooning bit was a nice little sign.
Taylor lifts a hand to acknowledge Noah. “Daddy’s back, Ems.” He looks much more relaxed than he did ten minutes ago.
Noah smiles. “She’s almost asleep,” he whispers, and Taylor nods.
Taylor pads down the hall to Emma’s room again and spots the unopened boxes and pillow packs. He lowers his voice further, keeps swaying, and says, “Look, baby girl…all your new stuff has arrived. Tell you what…you sleep for a bit, all right? And I’ll help Daddy get your room together. That’s a good girl, yeah?” Her travel bed is still in Noah’s room and the sight of Noah’s unmade bed makes Taylor’s stomach churn. The feel of Noah’s solid weight next to him, in his embrace, is a memory he hasn’t shaken all week. It’s haunted him in the darkest part of the night, and he probably shouldn’t have taken himself in hand, but, well, he’s only human. Heat creeps up his face at the memory. He sways for a little longer, both to make sure Emma’s asleep and to allow his cheeks to cool before he lowers her into her bed. After checking the baby monitor and closing the door, Taylor turns his thoughts to the task at hand: confessing his feelings to Noah. His heart shooshes like a puck across fresh ice.
He shuffles into the kitchen. “Beer?” he calls into the living room.
“Yes, please,” says Noah. “Xbox?”
Taylor hands Noah a bottle and sits sideways on the couch so he can face him. “Can we talk?”
Surprise flicks across Noah’s face and worry settles in his baby blues. “Sure.” He sits back and starts picking at the label.
Taylor has no idea where to start, and Noah finally meets Taylor’s gaze after he’s been quiet for too long.
“Right.” He slides a palm down his leg. “So, uh…remember what I told you about Uncle Bud?”
Noah nods.
“What he told me?”
Noah nods again.
Taylor sets his beer down. Why is this so hard? Out of everyone he knows, Noah is the least judgmental or flappable person Taylor has ever met. He’s not going to freak out or make a big deal out of it. “Noah, it’s you. The dude I’m interested in. You’re him.”
Noah’s eyebrows arch and he looks away. “Oh.” A nervous smile plays at his lips. Plump pink lips that are showcased by the trim mustache and short auburn stubble he maintains.
Lips that Taylor would love to feel under his own. But he’s getting ahead of himself. “Is there any chance for us?” he asks. “I mean, I’ve never seen you pick up, and then there’s Julia, though I know you’re just friends. I have no clues for context, so all I can do is ask…”
Noah nods, scratches his head. A faint blush colors his cheeks. “Well… I’m asexual.”
Taylor opens his mouth, then closes it. Words escape him at the moment. That’s not what he expected to hear. At all. Noah focusing on his career would have been the logical answer. Noah choosing to be celibate would have been less surprising.
“About one percent of the population could be asexual,” explains Noah. “Most people who identify as asexual are women though. I’m a minority of a minority of a minority.”
Taylor traces the hem of his shorts across his thigh. “What does that mean exactly? Being asexual?”
An amused snort escapes Noah. “There’s no exactly. Everyone is different. For me, it means not becoming sexually aroused by anything, including other people, the way most of the population does. Sight, sound, smell. Nothing makes me want to have sex with someone.”
“I… that’s—” Taylor has no desire to insult Noah or anyone else, but he can’t imagine not being turned on by anything. “Okay.”
Noah’s gentle smile eases Taylor’s rising level of confusion.
