Page 37 of Adrift

I arch a brow. “I’ve taken care of him on my own for the past year. I’m pretty sure I can handle one night without your help.”

She frowns again. “That’s not what I meant, Darian. I know you can take care of him and you’ve done a great job of it.” She fiddles with her hands, looking down at them. “I just feel bad. If I’d known you had this commitment tonight–”

“What? You would have canceled your exciting date with Lanky Boy?”

A crease forms between her brows and her nostrils flare. “You’re not being fair and you know it. You’re the one who told me you didn’t need my help on the weekends. You’re the one who made it seem like I should be out and about, doing other things, when we first talked. Obviously, I can only do those things over the weekend. I can’t sit here night after night watching you avoid me–”

I reel back. “Avoid you?”

She sighs, closing her eyes in frustration before reopening them. “Never mind. I have to go. I can’t do this right now. Liam is waiting for me.”

Oh, God forbid Liam has to wait.

“What do you mean, I avoid you?” I repeat sternly. I don’t mean to sound so irate, but seriously, what the fuck?

The only reason we haven’t talked much over the past couple of weeks is because I’ve been busy with work. Sure, I could do a better job of getting to know her instead of retreating into my study or bedroom every now and then, but fuck, I thought she’d want time to herself after taking care of my kid all day.

Maybe there is a small part of me that avoids her? I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to get used to having her around. Maybe I’m afraid that if I get attached, it’ll be yet another fucking adjustment when she leaves–when I’ve already had to make quite a few adjustments this past year. I figured I’d take a more professional stance with our relationship.

A voice pipes up somewhere inside my head, wondering if holding her, inhaling her flowery scent, and generally having to hide the constant boner in my pants around her is considered professional, but that voice is an exasperating piece of shit, so I mute it.

Rani opens up her clutch, pretending to look for something in there. Or, at least, I think she’s pretending based on how animated she’s being.

“Who’s avoiding whom now?”

She huffs. “Look, forget I said anything, okay? Have fun at the party.” She turns to walk away, exiting through the front door and leaving me staring after her.

I throw my whiskey down the drain–sacrilege, if one of my brothers were to witness it–no longer finding it helping me relax.

I put both hands on the counter and breathe deeply, knowing I’ll be stopping by the florist again on my way back.

* * *

“Gosh, you are just so cute and growing up fast!” Olivia coos at Arman, bending down to look at him in her foyer. He insisted on being down on his feet today, so I’m holding his hand above him as he practices walking. “Aren’t you, buddy? And you’re looking more and more like your mom.” Olivia gives me a cursory look to gauge my expression, as if she’s said something that might bother me. It doesn’t. I’m well-aware my son looks like his mom, and I never want that to be something my friends feel fearful mentioning.

I loved Sonia, and she will always have a place in my heart. You can’t take away ten years of memories, even if some weren’t perfect. We had to work on our marriage as I’m sure most people do. We had happier years, along with some not so happy ones. Either way, I want my son to be proud of who he came from and who he looks like.

“Well, come on in. I’m so glad you were able to make it.” Olivia smiles before gesturing for us to follow her into the living room and kitchen, where the rest of the party is taking place. She lifts the bottle of wine I bought on my way here. “And thank you for this. You didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome.”

We missed being a part of the surprise earlier, but I’m not upset about it. I’ve never been one to partake in these things. Whether you’re the person being surprised or doing the surprising, it all seems a little forced and theatrical. Personally, I’d much rather enjoy an intimate evening with family and friends than something so put-on.

Greg sees us as Arman and I hobble in, Arman still clutching my fingers to waddle ahead of me. He’s trying so hard to find his independence, and while I’m happy for him, I can’t say I don’t miss the times he was more immobile. At least I didn’t have to worry about him getting into everything then.

“King!” Greg chimes as he makes his way toward us. “So glad you could join us!”

I let go of one of Arman’s hands, ensuring he’s steady on his feet, before reaching out to shake Greg’s. “Happy birthday!” I look around at the various guests mingling with drinks and hors d'oeuvres in their hands. “Looks like a great party.”

“Thanks! It was a total surprise, but you know Liv. She just loves doing this stuff.” He reaches down to pat Arman’s head. “Glad you were able to bring him. Hi, buddy!”

Arman waves to Greg with a toothless smile, getting a happy reaction. “Hi.”

“Liv just told me your nanny wasn’t able to keep him tonight,” Greg says, apologetically.

I don’t know why the word nanny in reference to Rani irritates me. For all intents and purposes, she is Arman’s nanny, but I have the sudden urge to ask Greg why he never referred to my mom as Arman’s nanny when she was taking care of him.

Unlike a professional nanny, Rani doesn’t take any payment. And I don’t know, but the word just makes her seem like someone meaningless to me, like she’s only there to do her job.

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