Two Men and a Baby - Isla Olsen Page 0,23

stare at my phone in confusion for a moment, a little thrown by the change of pace.

Me: Why the Guggenheim?

Connor Kelly: Because it’s an architectural masterpiece and he needs to learn to appreciate it

I decide not to point out the limitations of a four-month-old when it comes to appreciating architecture; if I’ve learned anything over the past couple months of texting it’s that under Connor’s rugged exterior beats the heart of a true architecture nerd. Not that I’m really in a place to judge when it comes to nerdom…

Connor Kelly: And if you’re still having a little problem in the pants area I can take care of it while Chase is napping *wink emoji*

And there he goes, throwing me for a loop yet again.

Me: For the record, there is nothing LITTLE about the problem in my pants area

Connor Kelly: Even better *drool emoji*

I notice my mom entering the restaurant and stalking toward my table, so I hastily put my phone away. And fortunately mothers are a tried and tested boner-killer, so by the time she gets to the table I no longer have any kind of problem in my pants.

“Sorry I’m late, honey,” Mom says as she slides into the seat opposite me. “It was a nightmare getting to the ferry this morning.”

“It’s fine,” I say, offering her a soft smile.

My parents live on Staten Island, where I grew up. It’s kind of the ideal situation because they’re close at hand whenever I need something but it’s too inceonvenient for them to just show up all the time out of the blue—not that that hasn’t happened before…

“So, how’s everything going?” she asks as she opens the menu. “How’s work?”

“Work’s great.”

“You’re back with the older babies now, aren’t you?”

I nod, reaching out for my water glass to take a sip. “Yeah. I was just filling in with the infants over Christmas.”

“And what about outside of work? Are you seeing anyone?”

I set the glass back on the table, giving a wry shake of my head. I think that’s possibly a new record. “No, Mom. I’m not seeing anyone.”

She folds the menu and fixes her penetrating gaze on me instead. I’m not even sure why she bothered to look at the food selection in the first place because she always gets the same thing: jack cheese omelet with a side of roasted tomatoes. “It’s been over six months since you got the all clear. Not that we would know if you hadn’t,” she adds under her breath as she averts her gaze. Looking back at me, she says, “Maybe it’s time to start dating again? You won’t meet anyone unless you try.”

“Mom, me not dating has nothing to do with the cancer.” And everything to do with a certain bearded man who I can’t stop thinking about. “Besides, I’m only twenty-eight—”

“You’ll be twenty-nine in a few months,” she reminds me. “And it’s not about how old you are—I’d just like to know there’s someone taking care of you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mom,” I tell her, my voice layered with all the frustration I’m feeling. “Can we please just order, I’d like to eat sometime today.”

After brunch, I decide to head straight to Connor’s. I met my mom at a place she likes in midtown so there doesn’t seem much point going home when I need to be uptown in a couple hours anyway.

“Hey it’s me,” I say into the speaker when Connor answers.

“Oh, thank fucking god.” His voice is full of relief and the security door opens immediately.

I’d be flattered, except that I could hear Chase screaming his head off through the speaker, so I’m guessing Connor’s more relieved to have an extra pair of hands rather than actually being excited to see me.

“Oh my god, man. Thank god you’re here. I’m going crazy—I don’t know what to do!” They’re the first words Connor says to me as he lets me into his apartment. He’s holding a screaming Chase in his arms and by the look on Connor’s face, I don’t think he’s far off joining in.

I take off my coat and scarf and fold them over a kitchen chair before reaching out to take Chase from Connor’s arms. He hands him over gratefully, slumping into the couch as soon as his arms are free.

“Hey, little guy,” I say to Chase in a soothing tone, rubbing my hand over his back. “What’s the matter, huh?”

“I don’t know. He just won’t stop crying,” Connor groans, his head in his hands.