Page 102 of Hold You Close
“Where is Christopher?” I ask.
Christopher has started dating, he’s a senior now, and he’s his uncle. A ladies’ man.
“He’s in the game room.”
“With his girlfriend?”
“Yes, why?”
I just stand there and look at him.
Ian suddenly bolts out of the room. “Chris!” I hear him yelling. “You better have your damn pants on!”
I cradle Sabrina in my arms. “You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you? You’re not going to like stinky boys because your daddy might just shoot one that comes to the door.”
I head down to the living room where Ruby is on the couch, eating crackers and watching Frozen for the thirtieth time.
Seriously, this movie embeds itself in your brain until you’re singing the words in the shower without meaning to.
“Can we go shopping, Aunt London?” Morgan asks.
In the last year, this girl has gone from semi-Tomboy to full out girly-girl. She only wears a mix of pink or teal, her hair is always done, and I think she rivals Sephora with her makeup collection. Ian was the idiot who took her shopping the first time. When they rang her up, I think he might have had a stroke because he doesn’t remember actually ringing his card through.
“No, you can’t possibly need anything.”
She huffs. “Whatever. Brina gets anything she wants.”
“She’s a baby!”
I swear, this girl. When I was pregnant, Morgan was my best friend. She was always asking if I needed anything or if I was comfortable. We spoke with the kids at great length about naming her. Neither Ian nor I wanted them to be upset, and they were ecstatic that we were giving her their mother’s name. Then Sabrina came home with us, and I swear, they suddenly became completely different children.
“Still, she got new clothes!”
Thirteen is the worst age ever. I’m completely convinced.
“She outgrew them, Morgan. Stop it, seriously, you can’t win this one, honey,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she whines, “I just was asking.”
Ian appears in the living room with a scowl on his face. “That boy . . . is trouble.”
“So what you’re saying is that he’s you?”
“Watch it, woman.”
“You were all about training him to be your clone when Sabrina and David were alive,” I remind him.
“Yes! Because he wasn’t my responsibility!”
Sounds about right.
I move closer to my husband, placing my hand on his chest. “Well, that is a mistake you’ll have to fix. Was he naked?”
“No, but even with my warning he was practically mounting her.”
I really didn’t need to know that. I can’t picture that sweet boy mounting anything. I know he’s older and all that, but he’s still the pudgy-faced five-year-old who would sit on my lap when he came over. I can’t see him as a grown up.
“Just don’t leave him alone.”
