Laurel hasn't replied to my text from last night. She hasn't even read it, as far as I can tell, and I only know she made it home safely because Ruth is here and she promises that she stayed until she was sure Laurel was alright. She won't say any more than that, won't tell me what Laurel said to her, what they talked about, and it's driving me insane.
"Look alive, Annie," Bobby says. "It's Christmas Eve, not Christmas Grieve."
"How can I celebrate the holidays when I'm pretty sure my girlfriend hates me?" I say, peeling myself off the counter to stand straight. The day has only just begun, the store quiet so far, and I can't stop checking my phone.
"Oh, shush, Annie, she doesn't hate you," Ruth says.
Bobby eyes us and says, "What even happened last night? I feel like I'm missing out."
"That's not for us to discuss," Ruth says, giving me a pointed look that makes me shrink.
If Laurel hates me, she's probably justified. I hate myself for how last night went down. I know I overreacted, overstepped the mark, over everything. I've said as much in several follow-up texts, each one getting a couple of gray ticks and nothing else, and I don't know what else to do now. I need to see her, to apologize in person, to see how she is and what she needs, but I'm here until five and it's Christmas Eve. I don't want to wreck whatever plans she has with her kids.
So I'm stuck here with this ache in my chest reminding me that I fucked up, and I'm supposed to work a seven hour customer service shift with a smile on my face.
It's not ideal. It's so far from ideal. Even worse when Ruth knows way more than she's admitting to and Bobby keeps prying for information, and if there's one thing Laurel made clear last night, it's that none of this is mine to tell. And yet I did. I told Nathan and I told Theo and then I lay awake all fucking night kicking myself for not being who she needed me to be in that moment. I wasn't Laurel's girlfriend, level-headed and supportive. I was Nathan's little sister, the bratty attention whore. An ugly showcase of the youngest child syndrome Mom teases me about, which might have cost me my relationship.
When Bobby goes to the stockroom, Ruth joins me at the counter and lowers her voice when she says, "Hey. Stop stressing out. You know how Laurel is. She gets overwhelmed and she has to take time to process her emotions and reactions. They don't come naturally to her, so give her that time, okay?"
It's like being back at school, being gently admonished by the kindly older teacher I only want to impress.
"Okay. Thank you. Sorry, Ruth."
"What're you apologizing to me for?"
I'm not sure actually. "For moping?" I offer up. "And for being kind of responsible for you having to come get Laurel last night."
"As far as I can tell, that wasn't your responsibility."
"I could have defused the situation and instead I threw gasoline on the flames," I say. We keep our voices down, in case Bobby is only pretending to be in the stock room and is actually eavesdropping from just inside the door.
Ruth shows me her palms and says, "I wasn't there. I don't know what happened. What can I say, hon? If you think you made it worse, you need to make it better."
I lock my phone away in the staff room to stop the temptation and I try my very best to throw myself into work. It soon gets busy enough to distract me and Ruth puts on a Christmas playlist, and I manage to relax into the work. There's a steady flow of customers lining up to pay, some of whom I'm already starting to recognize after only ten days on the job. There's an old man I swear I've seen three times already, always with a different hat, and I've served the woman with the pug twice.
I slip back into the routine. Smiles and small talk. Do not think about Laurel. Stop it. Do not think about her. But it's hard when she's everywhere. Her last name on the store, on the bookmarks and the bags; her handwriting on half of the recommendation cards. At one point, when I've gone a whole thirty minutes without thinking about Laurel, I overhear Bobby tell Ruth that he warned Laurel not to mix business with pleasure, and I want to disintegrate.
When I finish my lunch at two, scowling as I turn the heating down for the third time today, I come out of the back room to find a lanky blonde leaning against the counter, chatting to Ruth. It jars me for a moment to see my brother in my workplace and I bump into one of the tables, knocking four books off the edge. No bent pages, thank god. I straighten the stack and take my place next to Ruth.
"Hey, Nathan. What're you doing here?" I ask. Ruth takes my silent cue and heads off to help a woman who's scouring the shelves, clearly looking for something in particular. Once she's out of earshot, I ask, "What were you and Ruth talking about?"
"Nothing. Just being polite," he says. "I'm guessing you told her about last night? I mentioned that I'm your brother and she was like ah."
"I didn't. Laurel did. Ruth's the one who picked her up last night when she ran out crying."
"Oh." Nathan grimaces. He stands with his hands in his pockets, more casual than I'm used to seeing him. "Listen, I know it's Christmas Eve and it's shitty timing, but none of this is going away," he says. "I've slept on it, and I've spent literally all morning talking to Mom and Dad and Lil about this. I need to talk to Laurel."
"Good luck," I say. I checked my phone on my lunch break, still nada. "She's not even reading my messages."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"I could..." He lets his thought fade. "No, I shouldn't go over there, should I?"
"Absolutely fucking not," I say. Even I, with a grasp on boundaries that leaves a lot to be desired, know that that's a terrible idea. "Imagine if she wasn't home? And Otto opened the door? What would you say?"
Nathan thinks about it. "I'd ask if he's heard of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."
"And what if he said whoa, dude, you look exactly like my mom's girlfriend?"
"I'm going to stop you right there, Annie, because we're getting way off track," Nathan says. He has never been one to indulge in my hypotheticals. "I came here because Mom said Laurel works here and I thought I might be able to, I don't know, set up a meeting before I go back to New York."
The bell above the door elicits a Pavlovian response – I can't not look when it chimes – and when Laurel walks through the door, hand in hand with Hannah, my heart soars.
"She's here," I say to Nathan. He swivels on the balls of his feet as Laurel strides towards us, and my heart is in my throat because I can't parse her expression. At least she's not crying anymore, although she is a little bleary-eyed. Hannah heads straight to the children's section, and Laurel comes straight to the counter, where Ruth appears out of nowhere.
"You're both here," Laurel says. "That helps. We need to talk." To Ruth, she says, "I need to borrow Annie for a few minutes."
"You're the boss," Ruth says.
Laurel's heels click on the wooden floor as Nathan and I follow her to the back room. I catch her elbow, my fingers curling around her arm.
"I've been texting you," I say. Are you mad? I want to ask, but it's such a childish question. I can't bring myself to say it out loud.
Laurel frowns. "I haven't seen my phone since last night," she says, half to herself. "Sorry, Annie. I didn't see."
"So you weren't icing me out?" A flicker of hope sparks in my voice.
"God, no." She faces me fully, her eyebrows pulled together. "I would never do that," she says. "It's probably under the sofa. Why would I ice you out?"
"Because I was an asshole. I reacted badly and you said it was too much," I say, my fingernails digging into my palms at the memory of Laurel walking away last night.
"I didn't mean us," she says. "Just ... last night, in general."
Nathan clears his throat. Shit, I forgot about him. When I sit on the sofa, he takes the place next to me and Laurel drags a chair over, sitting with her knees and her feet pressed together, her hands folded in her lap like she went to some kind of royal finishing school.
There's a pause. A stalemate, when none of us knows who should speak first. I'm not sure I should even be here for this, so I am the first to open my mouth. "Do you two want to talk alone?" I ask, shifting to the edge of the sofa, but Laurel trains panicked eyes on me.
"Please don't go," she says. "Okay, I need to just rip off the Bandaid. I spoke to Christian this morning." To Nathan, she clarifies, "My ex-husband. Last night was overwhelming for me in so many ways, but talking it through with him helped me realize that my fears are twofold."
"You talked to Christian?" I ask. I've seen the guy once since I've been back, and I can't imagine the two of them having a heart to heart.
"Only because he dropped the kids off and he could tell I was out of sorts."
"What are your fears?" Nathan asks, cutting to the root of the matter.
Laurel takes a deep breath. She looks him in the eye. I know that takes a lot for her. It's one thing when it's me, when it's people she loves and trusts. Nathan is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. "I can't lose my daughter," she says. "My older two already spend one night a week and every other weekend with their dad and it kills me. I know you have rights, as Ava's dad, but I ... I just can't."
I can practically feel the air move when my brother sags with relief. He leans earnestly forward, elbows on knees, fixing Laurel with those eyes he passed straight on down to Ava.
"We're on the same page," he says. "I don't want to be a dad. I never have, and I'm so sorry how all of this has turned out. I want to meet Ava, and I'll be financially involved, but I don't want ... god, I know I sound like a jerk, but I don't want her to be raised as though she's mine."
Laurel presses both hands to her chest. "Really?"
"She's your daughter, Laurel. I mean, heck, my baby sister's already more of a parent to Ava than I could ever be in a million years," he says with a strained laugh.
Laurel's whole face changes as it sinks in, that Ava is going nowhere. In no world would my brother ever want custody. "I wasn't going to ask for financial involvement," she says. "I can't ask that of you. I made the decision to have her."
I wish I could say don't turn the man down! He's fucking loaded! but I sit on my hands and watch in silence. I can imagine how this morning's conversation went between my parents and Nathan and Lily, and when he opens his mouth, I can hear Mom through his words.
"That's out of the question, Laurel. I have to take responsibility for my actions," he says. "It takes two to tango, and all that. Just because I never intended to have a child doesn't change the fact that I have made one. Money isn't a problem, as long as we can arrange something between ourselves, rather than going through the courts."
"Of course," Laurel says, looking shocked as she nods.
"I'm here until the twenty-seventh. I'd like to meet Ava before I head back to New York," he says, his voice softening. "I'm not saying I need to be completely eradicated." He glances at me, as if to say that'll be impossible. "I just don't feel like it's right that I'm her dad. I'm happy being the, god, I don't know, the sperm donor, or the generous uncle or something."
Laurel laughs. I know that laugh. The one that comes out when she doesn't know what else to say. "You can meet her, of course. Any time you're in town, of course you can see her." She rubs her chest and rolls her shoulders back. "Okay. This is good. We want the same thing."
Nathan nods. "For you to carry on as you were before," he says. "Albeit with a bit more of a financial cushion."
"You said you have two fears," I say, when I can sense that Laurel's struggling for words. I tuck my hands under my thighs to stop my nails from damaging your palms. "What's the other one?"
"You."
For a flash of a moment, I'm free falling, until Laurel pulls her chair closer and wraps her hands around my wrists, pulling my hands out from under me.
"I know this isn't what any of us wanted. I know it's weird. I know it complicates things. But I can't lose you either, Annie. You've stormed back into my life and shone a light on me and I can't go back into the dark."
"Laurel, if anything I said or did yesterday gave you the impression that I want out, I am so sorry. Yesterday was a lot, and I know I reacted badly and I wasn't there for you in that moment, but I will be there for you for every other moment there ever is."
I turn my hands over in hers, palm to palm. "I love you. So fucking much. I love Ava so fucking much. She shares my genes, Laurel. You really think I'm going anywhere?" I grin at her, holding her deep brown gaze as her eyes start to glisten. "If you're going to worry about someone taking Ava off you, it's not her father. It's her auntie."
Laurel's lips pull into a grin and her eyes fill with tears when she laughs and says, "You're her auntie."
"I told you we had a special bond." I let go of her hands to wrap my arms around her, both of us leaning across our knees. It's an awkward angle. The hug doesn't last long. "Listen. I know this complicates things further, especially with what you say to Otto and Hannah," I say, "but the other day you were worrying that Ava wasn't going to know what grandparents were. Now she has two more a mile down the road who would really like to be involved, if that's something we can work out."
Laurel sits with one arm around her stomach, one hand pressed to her mouth, her gaze flickering between my brother and me like she hadn't even considered it.
"Whichever way you look at it," I say, "no matter how involved Nathan is, our parents are Ava's grandparents. They'd love to meet their granddaughter, if that's okay with you."
It's a long few seconds before Laurel speaks. When she does, her voice is thick. "She has grandparents."
"So even if your mom pisses you off again and you go no-contact for real," I say, "Ava will have a couple spares to go around." I stand, taking Laurel's hand and tugging her to her feet. "Come here. Everything's okay." I fold her into my arms and she sags against me. "This isn't going to break us up, Laurel. It's the opposite. Your daughter's my flesh and blood. And I promise you, I can be a way better dad than my brother."
"She's not wrong there," Nathan says. He stands too, awkwardly hovering nearby as Laurel and I hug. I don't want to let her go. Don't want to lose the sharp waft of her tea tree shampoo, the musk of her perfume.
"I'm sorry," I murmur against her ear. "I'm sorry for everything. I was the shittiest girlfriend yesterday. I promise I will make it up to you."
"It's okay. To be honest, it's all a blur of shock and confusion and yelling and so many people. Who knew seven people could feel like fifty?" She lets go of me and says, "I'm sorry I ditched the party."
"You missed dessert," I say. "Key lime pie with a side of Mom crying over videos of Ava."
Laurel chuckles, wiping her eyes. "Where did she even get videos of Ava? Did I leave my phone at yours?"
"They're on mine. From when I look after her." I take my phone out of my pocket and show her my camera roll. Dozens of pictures and videos of Ava – and the odd one of Cooper amongst all the baby footage. "I want to be in her life, Laurel. Way before I knew how close we really are. I want to be yours."
Nathan holds up a hand like a kid and says, "Do you guys want me to give you a minute?" he asks, but before either of us can answer, the door opens and Hannah comes in.
"I chose my book, Mom. Ruth said you're busy so I tried to buy it myself but you've got my pocket money in your bag," she says, completely oblivious until Laurel looks for her bag on the floor and searches through it for Hannah's purse. "Oh, hi Annie!" Hannah beams at me. "Happy Christmas Eve!"
"Happy Christmas Eve to you too, Han. Did you remember to send your list off to Santa?"
Hannah laughs. "I'm ten, Annie. I know Santa's not real."
I gasp and throw my hands up to my cheeks. "Hannah Jacobs, how could you say such a thing? Where did you get such a potty mouth? Have you not seen Elf? Where's your Christmas spirit?"
Hannah's face lights up and she says, "We're watching Elf tonight! Right, Mom?"
"If that's what you and Otto agreed on, hon, sure." Laurel acts like she's still looking for something in her bag, but I reckon she's trying to hide her still damp eyes from her inquisitive daughter.
"Are you coming, Annie? Please come! We do Christmas Eve baking and Mom lets us stay up late to watch a movie and we get pizza."
I glance at Laurel, who surfaces from her bag with pink cheeks, and I say, "Pizza, huh?"
"It's a tradition," Hannah says, proudly grinning.
"I fully support pizza as a tradition." I try not to smile too wide.
"So you'll come over? Mom, can Annie come?"
Laurel swats Hannah's arm and says, "Hey, she's my friend, not yours. It's up to Annie." She lifts her eyes to me. "She probably has plans with her family."
I look at Nathan. We're supposed to have Christmas Eve dinner, the five of us left. But I don't want to miss the chance to spend it with Laurel. "You think Mom would mind?" I ask.
"I think she'll understand," he says. His voice startles Hannah. Wow, she really didn't notice the six foot dude in the room.
"My brother," I explain, gesturing to him with my thumb.
"I didn't know you had a brother. Are you twins?" Hannah asks. "There are boy and girl twins in my class. You look like twins."
"We get that a lot," I say.
"I'm just a regular old brother, I'm afraid," Nathan says. "We have quite a lot in common though, don't we Annie?"
I laugh as Laurel blushes. "We do indeed."
"I'll explain it to Mom," he says, and he taps his ring finger. "I'm sure Lily and I can find something to distract her with."
"So you'll come over after work?" Hannah asks, hope in her eyes.
"You think your mom'll let me?" I ask, my best impression of being in elementary school again.
Laurel slips an arm around Hannah's shoulders. "I'd love nothing more."
*
one thing i hate is miscommunication so here, have some adults who actually talk about things!