Page 19 of Adrift

“Daw!” Arman squeals, getting momentarily distracted by his snacks before going back to watch the gray and white husky with the tall, red-headed man.

He’s been here the past two days that I’ve brought Arman for a walk in this park near Darian’s house, and I gather the dog might be the alpha in their relationship.

I’ve officially been living with Darian and Arman for three days, and we seem to have a good routine. I think Arman has even come to expect his afternoon walks. I’ve noticed they help him relax so he’s ready to nap by the time we get back home.

Despite how nervous I was with taking care of a one-year-old, Arman has indeed been the easy baby both Karine and Darian had described. Even without knowing how to speak, he communicates everything he needs–like when he wants to be picked up or when he’s done eating. The times I need to be vigilant are when he starts crawling, trying to get into things–especially that bottom cabinet inside the kitchen island. The kid is convinced there’s something important for him in there.

I’ve been waking up at seven, right around the time Arman does. By the time I get to his room, Darian has already changed his diaper and his bottle is ready. He hands me the baby with a curt smile and heads out to work. And while I’ll chat with Karine through our text messages here and there, I don’t talk to Darian until the evening when he gets back around six.

And even then, we eat a quick meal together, chatting briefly about the day–mainly anything to do with Arman–before Darian whisks him away to take a bath and put him to bed. He insists on spending that time with him, and I don’t mind being able to retreat to my room for the night or chatting with Bella and Melody.

But still, it feels . . . lonely at times.

Last night I came out of my room around nine PM to grab a glass of water from the kitchen and noticed the light on under the study door. I’d gone back to sleep afterward, but I didn’t miss the click of Darian’s bedroom door, when he seemed to have finally gone in around midnight.

I know he has a lot on his plate with his school and managing the staff, but given the dark circles under his eyes, I get the feeling he doesn’t sleep much.

A part of me wants to tell him that I’m here if he needs an ear, that he doesn’t have to hold it all in and carry it on his own. But I get the feeling it would have the opposite effect.

Since the first night we chatted freely and he showed me around the house, I’ve seen a different Darian–a closed-off and tighter-lipped man. If he’s not rushing out the front door then he’s slipping into his study. It’s like he’s always finding ways to dodge my presence.

I try not to let his avoidance bother me–he’s had a lot thrown at him over the past year–but sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something. Maybe my presence annoys him somehow. Maybe I’m in his way, even when I try not to be. Maybe I remind him of my sister? While we shared similar features, we definitely look pretty different.

The first day, Darian told me I could always call or text him if I needed something, but I haven’t wanted to bother him at work. If I do have any questions–like the time I wanted to know if Arman liked his bottles warmed up–I just texted Karine.

I unwrap the granola bar I’d packed in my purse before taking a bite. Arman watches me intently for a moment before making grabby-hands, begging for a bite. I tear off a little piece to give to him, and he immediately puts it in his mouth, tasting around it, trying to figure out if he wants more.

I smile when he spits a piece out before wiping his mouth with a burp cloth I brought along with me. “Yeah, I get it, buddy. Eating healthy sucks.”

We’re sitting in the middle of a large patch of grass, Arman in his stroller and me on the ground. I pull my knees up, placing an arm behind me and finish my cardboard-flavored snack. I haven’t had the chance to go grocery shopping, and all Darian seems to have in his pantry are things only a baby goat would find appetizing.

There are few days as beautiful as the ones I’ve seen here, where the June sun isn’t so hot that it scalds your skin but temperate enough to keep you toasty. My gaze lifts toward an eagle sweeping through the sky before my attention lands back on the red-haired man and his dog, now headed in our direction.

I hadn’t noticed him close up the other two days, but he appears to be a little older than I am–in his early twenties, perhaps. His green eyes crinkle at the corners when we both raise our hands simultaneously to wave at each other.

“Cute dog,” I call as they come within earshot. Arman watches, transfixed, as the dog sniffs around, pawing at something in the grass. Though he looks so much more like my sister–with his darker skin and pert nose–the intensity in his gaze reminds me of his dad.

“Thanks, but he’s not mine. I’m babysitting him for the next few weeks for my parents.” He smiles at Arman, dimples forming on both cheeks, making him look younger than he is. “Cute kid.”

I huff out a laugh, sitting up a bit and running my hand over one of Arman’s tiny socked feet. “Thanks, he’s not mine, either. He’s my nephew.”

“Ah, got it. So, I assume you don’t live around here, then.”

I shake my head up at him, squinting at the sun, when he notices and moves in a way so his head blocks part of it. “No, I’m just helping them out for the summer. I live in the East Bay.”

“Not too far, then. I’m Liam, by the way. I saw you yesterday, too.” His cheeks pinken and I can tell he regrets admitting that. I won’t deny that it has my intrigue and confidence peaking. It’s not everyday that a man blushes around me.

“I’m Rani.” I jut out my hand and he wraps his long fingers around it in a shake. “Yeah, we have a pretty busy summer schedule of walks, snacks, and naps ahead of us, so we figured we’d get started.”

Liam barks out a laugh. “Doesn’t sound like you’ll have much time for anything else, huh?”

I lick my lips, caught off-guard with the insinuation, when my phone buzzes inside my purse. It’s an incoming call from Melody.

After two nights of dwelling on Darian’s personality disorder, I’d called her last night from my room but she hadn’t picked up. Now, I’m desperate to talk to her–to hear her tell me that I’m over analyzing and needlessly worrying myself when he’s probably just busy. And she’d be right, of course. I mean, the guy doesn’t need to entertain me. I’m here to help my nephew and take a little bit of the burden off him, not to create an additional headache for him.

I look up from my phone to the pair of green eyes still assessing me. “I actually need to take this.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Liam hesitates before pulling his dog’s leash. “Maybe, uh . . . maybe I’ll see you here around this time tomorrow?” This time his cheeks turn a deep red, competing with his hair, before he takes a feigned casual stance. “Or not. No big deal.”

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