Southern Sunshine by Natasha Madison

Chapter 27

Reed

“Momma,” Sofia calls Hazel from downstairs. “Are you ready?”

“She’ll be right down,” I tell Sofia as she turns in a circle, wearing the new dress my mother had delivered today. “Look, Uncle Daddy,” she says, and I try not to laugh at the name. “I’m like Anna from Frozen.” I just look at her, not sure who that person is.

We both look over at the stairs as we see Hazel come down. I watch and see her feet and then her long legs. My mouth gets suddenly dry as I see more leg and finally the beige skirt. My eyes are staring at her legs as she turns, and the skirt flows around her. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She puts her hand to her stomach, and I see that the white shirt she is wearing is tied at the waist.

“Momma, look,” Sofia says. “I got new shoes.” She goes over to pick up the new pink shoes my mother bought.

“More shoes?” Hazel asks, and I look at her and shrug. It’s been two days since we told my parents Sofia was mine. Even though they wanted to go out and tell the world, we thought it would be good to tell people slowly, for Sofia’s sake. At this point, I didn’t give a shit who else knew because she knew I was her dad. “She got ten pairs yesterday,” Hazel says, slipping her feet into the flip-flops.

“We warned you,” I say, getting up from the couch. “My mother has no control when it comes to shopping. Zero. My father built her a house once, and no one went into it because she ordered all this delicate stuff, and we were afraid to ruin anything.”

“What?” Hazel asks, shocked. “Wait, was that the white house?” I nod my head. “I heard about it.”

“Yeah, heard about it,” I say. “Never saw it.” I laugh now. “I’m living in it now.”

“You live in the white house?” Hazel shrieks.

“Are you the president?” Sofia looks at me. “He lives in the White House.”

“I’m not the president,” I say, picking her up. “Far from it. Now, let’s go, or else your grandmother is going to blow up my phone again.”

“Are you sure about this?” Hazel says. “I mean, babysitting.”

“Hazel,” I say her name. “You have to pray that she wants to come back and live with you after she’s at my parents’ house,” I say. I don’t know how my mother did it, but she called and asked to babysit Sofia for the night. I saw the turmoil in her eyes, and I said no for her, but then she caved and agreed. So tonight, we are going to drop Sofia off and then go have a drink at the bar. It’s totally a date, but I’m not calling it that in front of her. I also won’t admit it to her, but tonight when I drop her off, I’m taking that fucking kiss. I mean, I think I am. Fuck if I know. I’ve never been this nervous in my life.

“Where are the keys?” I ask Hazel, who holds up her hands. I put my hand out for them, and she looks at me.

“It’s my car,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

“And I’m the man,” I say, looking at Sofia. “The man always drives when you are together.”

“I thought she wasn’t allowed to date,” Hazel reminds me, laughing as she hands me the keys. Last night, when we talked about Sofia, I said she wasn’t allowed to date, something that Hazel agreed to also.

As I put Sofia in the truck, she tells me what needs to be done. She is very quick to let me know when I’m messing something up. I get into the truck and look over at Hazel, who is breathing now. “Relax.” I put my hand on hers. “Worst case, my parents call us and we go get her.”

“I know it’s silly,” she says and looks in the back. “But she’s never been to a sleepover.”

“Momma,” Sofia says. “I have a princess bed,” she tells me. “Grandma bought me one.”

“Of course she did,” Hazel says, shaking her head. I can’t help but laugh, and when we get to my parents’ house, my mother is sitting on the steps waiting. She jumps up and claps her hands.

“Cowboy!” she yells for my father. “They’re here.” My father comes out of the house. The minute I put the car in park, the back door springs open. “There she is,” my father says. “Princess Sofia.”

“See, Momma,” she says. “Told you I’m a princess.”

It takes about fifteen minutes for Hazel to be okay enough to walk away. After my mother shows Sofia her special room, she turns to me. “She’s never coming back to Pops’ house.”

When we walk out of the house, I want to grab her hand when our fingers graze each other’s. Sofia doesn’t even come and say goodbye to us, and Hazel keeps looking out the window.

The parking lot is almost empty when we get there, which is typical for Wednesday night, but I spot my sister’s truck and my cousins’. Getting out of the truck, I wait for her as we walk to the bar. “It’s funny," she says, looking at me. “It’s changed"—she looks around—“yet feels the same." She pulls open the door, and you can see the changes right away. “God, I used to hate this place on Saturday nights,” she says, pointing at where the pool tables are. “People would spill so much shit back there."

"I know," I groan. “Who do you think used to mop it?"

"Who do you think mopped it when you left?" she counters, and I look at her. "Christopher was always ‘busy.’" She makes air quotes when she says busy.

I look around and see that everyone is sitting at the table in front of the bar. Asher sits on the stool with Amelia beside him, right next to Chelsea, sitting next to Mayson. His hand is on Chelsea's leg, just in case people don’t see the ring on her finger.

"Look at what the cat dragged in," my sister says from behind the bar. Besides my parents, she is the only one who knows since she lives in the house, and my mother had to explain why she was renovating a room for a child. "What can I get you, Hazel?" She smiles at her.

"Um …" She looks at her. “Water."

"Why?" Amelia says, turning on her stool. Her stomach is sticking out. “Have a glass of wine or a shot of whiskey."

Chelsea picks up her beer and brings it to her lips. “I had to take one for the team also."

"I’ll have a glass of white wine,” she says and then looks at me. “I don’t drink."

"Sip it," I mumble under my breath, grabbing two stools and sitting with them.

Harlow comes over and puts her wine down on a coaster and then hands me a beer. "I’ll put it on your tab."

"No tab," Amelia says. “We don’t know when he’s going to leave town."

I laugh, picking up the beer now. “Not anytime soon," I tell them, taking a pull. “I’m out,” I say, and they look at me in shock. “It was time."

"You know when you know," Mayson says, holding up his beer to me in a salute.

"What are you going to do now?" Amelia asks as she rubs her stomach.

"I haven’t decided yet,” I say to them. Technically, it’s the truth, but I leave out that I don’t know what I’m going to do since Hazel hasn’t told me what her plans are. I keep thinking that she will stay, but I’m not going to be the one to pressure her.

"Well, it’s good to have you home," Amelia says and then winces. “I swear these contractions."

"They are the worst," Hazel says. “I had Braxton Hicks with Sofia for seven weeks."

"What are Braxton Hicks?" I ask, worried she was in pain for seven weeks.

"It’s when you get a contraction, but it’s not real," she says, but I still don’t understand it. "Your body is getting ready for the real thing, so it’s like a practice run."

"With Tucker, I had back pains, and I kinda knew they were contractions, but I didn’t think it would go downhill so fast," Chelsea says, then looks at Mayson. “Then my water broke." Mayson’s head shakes, making Chelsea laugh. “It’s fine. He’s healthy."

"She almost gave birth in the elevator," Mayson pipes in. “I thought I was going to die."

"You thought you were going to die?" Chelsea says. “Try squeezing a watermelon out of your …" The men groan, and I grimace and hold my junk.

"I don’t know why this baby isn’t coming out," Amelia says. “I’ve tried everything. Spicy food. Walks, raspberry tea, sex."

"Amelia," Asher says to her.

"You don’t think they know we have sex?" She points at her stomach. “Exhibit A." It makes us all laugh.

"How was your labor?" Amelia looks at Hazel.

"It was almost sixteen hours,” she says, and the girls gasp. “After hour fourteen, I got a fever." My mouth goes dry suddenly. “I don’t remember much after that, but it took me thirty-nine minutes to push her out."

"Were you with the father?" Amelia asks, and Chelsea smacks her hand. “Oh my God,” she says, putting her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, that was …" She holds up her hands, and I look over at Hazel, who smiles, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother her, and inside, I die just a touch. "Insensitive."

"It’s fine," Hazel says. “Things happen."

"How involved is the father now?" Chelsea asks. “If you don’t want to talk about it …"

"No," Hazel says, looking down at the wineglass in front of her that she hasn’t taken a sip from.

"It’s me,” I say, and even my brain doesn’t get what is going on. I look at my cousins, and I can see Harlow standing behind the bar with her eyes about to come out of their sockets. “I’m the father."