They don't wait for further instruction. The three boys dart off toward the playground. Ian goes for the slide while Ryan heads to the monkey bars. Josh, as predicted, slides up beside my mom and starts sniffing the air while eyeing the food. The kid won't stop growing, so it's no wonder he's hungry all the time.
"You did this," Ruby whispers. She moves to stand in front of me and stands on her tiptoes to place a kiss on my cheek. It's not exactly the kind of kiss I prefer, but I'll take it.
"Little boys deserve big parties."
She nods her head and blinks away the tears that are threatening to fall. In an attempt to stop that shit before it gets out of hand, I pull her against me and walk us to the playground. She's reluctant at first, her eyes still wet, but eventually catches on and pulls it together.
We're barely at the decorated trees before Sheryl meets us with baby Jeremy in her arms. She grins at my woman and bounces on her feet. "Surprise!"
"You knew?" Ruby asks in shock.
Sheryl laughs a little too loud and scares the baby, but she bounces him in her arms to calm him down.
"Of course I knew," Sheryl says. "We all knew."
One look at Ruby and her eyes are watering again. Oh for fuck's sake. I gesture to Sheryl to hand the baby over, and when she does, I peer down at the kid and smile. His eye color isn't fully developed yet, but they're already a striking blue.
"Babe," I say and hand him to Ruby, "You want something to cry over. Hold this little asshole."
"God, he gets cuter every time I see him," she says.
As Sheryl and Ruby lose themselves in small talk about the baby that turns into shit talk about Layla using while pregnant, I silently make a break for it. Another minute talking about Layla and the women will be demanding I do something about it, and since I don't know what the fuck to do, or if there's anything I can do, I opt out of the situation entirely. Today's been a good day. I don't want to ruin it by thinking about things I can't change.
So instead of worrying about all the fucking bad that looms over us, I go meet my sons on the playground and see if I can fit my ass down that slide Ian's obsessed with.
CHAPTER 13
Ruby
Jim's standing across the main room in the clubhouse. Maybe thirty feet at most, but it's too far. I just want him closer. After waking up today, convinced the entire day was going to suck, only for him to turn it around for me . . . I need him here. Like now.
"Seems my boy can do more than just fuck things up," Sylvia says from beside me. She purses her lips and then takes a long draw from her bottle of beer. My eyes linger on her pale features and thinning hairline for too long. She shrinks back from me and focuses on the wall behind the bar.
"I can't believe he did all that," I say. It's the truth. Even Mike didn't do shit like that for my boy. Sure, he'd bring him by a toy the week of his birthday, but beyond that, it was like the kid didn't exist. I'd just kind of accepted the fact that Ian's birthday would always be a kind of solemn day. We've always celebrated it, just the two of us, with a private little party at home. One year he got cookies, the next he got cupcakes. One year he got a single cupcake--it was all I could afford at the time--but he acted like that lone cupcake was made of gold with the way he thanked me for it. And that's not normal or right. Kids should take cupcakes for granted.
"Of course he did," Sylvia says. "Ian's his boy, too."
My eyes fall closed at her words. Ian isn't really Jim's. As much as I appreciate the club wanting him to feel like he's part of the family, I can't let this continue. Ian is my son. I carried him in my body and safely delivered him in a hospital in Tampa. I fought to get him to latch on, and I'm the one who diapered him. I taught him to read and write. I've fed and clothed him since the day he was born. I put that boy through hell and then pulled him back out of it. That's on me. I've been the only parent, only fucking constant in this kid's life since even before he was born. It might take a village to raise a kid, but history's shown me that people leave. My heart is going to break when Jim decides we're too much trouble, and that's fine, but I won't let my boy feel like he's lost one more thing. So no, fuck that. Ian is mine.
"I know that look," Sylvia says. Her tone is of defeat rather than irritation. I hear a lot of that from her these days. She always sounds so tired and fed up, not even frustrated, just doing her best to keep on living.
"My boy finally has something stable. I don't want to take that from him by letting Jim play daddy. When this ends, it's only going to hurt Ian."
"And if it ends, you won't be hurt?"
"That's not what I meant," I say.
"No, I don't suppose it is," she says. Finally, she turns in her seat to face me. I do the same and when I meet her eyes, I find an exhaustion there that surprises me. I see the woman almost every day. She's become a surrogate mother to me, treats Ian like he's her own. Sylvia Stone is family, and if we ever have to leave, it's going to break both our hearts.
"And what if it doesn't end?"