Seth MacYes @sethmacyes - Tumblr Blog

Jan 21, 2016

Everybody Loves Somebody

Chapter 17--A Very Strange Engagement

I don’t like conflict and I don’t like fighting. It’s hard for me to hold a grudge because I hate the feeling of knowing I have an unresolved fight and someone’s having a bad feeling about me. I was able to get over most arguments pretty quickly, and it was no different for the argument I had with Seth.

The cat curled up on my bed, in between my pillows—probably because he couldn’t see where he was going. I stood in my underwear in front of my makeup table and applied a second coat of mascara, my hair rolled up in big pink Velcro curlers. I wasn’t sure if Seth was still coming to the party or not that night. Now that I had the When Harry Met Sally soundtrack playing though, my anger was basically gone and I could care less whether he wanted to go to the party or not.

I patted highlighter onto my Cupid’s bow and then texted Seth—because this is the 21st Century and I was too lazy to have to worry about whether or not he was still angry with me.

Are you still going tonight?

His reply was quick, and alarmingly short: Yes.

And so it was.

I unclipped my curlers and let my loose waves fall in a pile that brushed just below my clavicle. I shook my hair out, glad that I could finally shake my head after months of motion sickness. I slid my silk slip down over my body and smoothed it out while looking in the full length mirror. I scrunched my nose, the summer humidity was already making my smooth turn to frizz.

My dress was a bubble gum pink silk number that fell just above my knee and tied in the front with a bow that hung over my growing belly. It was extremely flattering, but I just wasn’t really feeling it that night. I looked at the time on my phone and we were already running a little late so there was no time to change. I collected my purse, Francy and John’s engagement gift wrapped in simple white Butcher’s Paper but tied up with a luxurious robin’s egg blue silk ribbon, and carried my heels by the straps—I planned to put them on in the elevator keeping the fact that they were my most painful pair in mind.

The cat purred peacefully and I could only assume that he was sleeping. Shit. I slapped my palm to my forehead—the cat wasn’t potty trained. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I grabbed him and opened the bathroom door, ran into the kitchen and grabbed that day’s newspaper, putting it down all over the floor of the bathroom—secretly hoping that the cat would pee all over newly announced presidential candidate Donald Trump’s picture slapped across the front page.

“Bye kitten.” I said and patted his head. Why does leaving a blind cat seem so much worse..?

Seth stood by the elevator in a freshly dry cleaned lavender button down tucked into grey slacks. His sleeves were rolled up casually revealing his toned forearms and he had one button undone which, had it been appropriate would’ve sent my heart aflutter. He fiddled with his phone while I admired his look—he wasn’t usually in business casual when I was around.

I stood in front of him, our height difference accentuated by my lack of shoes. “Ready?”

He didn’t look up from whatever he was doing. “Sure, yeah.”

I pursed my lips. “Great.” And pressed the call button on the elevator. It seemed like an eternity of awkward silence and tension before the door finally opened and I would have someone to talk to other than Seth—who seemed to be giving me the silent treatment.

“Good evening Miss Alice, Seth.” Even Maurice’s warm smile couldn’t slice through the tension.

“Evening.” Seth said curtly.

“Going out tonight?” Maurice asked politely.

“Yes,” I glanced at Seth, increasingly annoyed at whatever on his phone was amusing him so much. “An engagement party at the Rainbow Room.”

“My wife and I went there last year for our 50th anniversary.” His smile got even larger when he talked about his beloved wife. “The weather’s beautiful tonight.”

I half smiled and nodded as I pulled the nude strap on my heels tight enough for them to stay on, and not to rub and give me blisters. I stood, my legs uneven for a moment before I pulled the second one on, equally tight. As I stood up, I lost my footing and stumbled backwards towards the elevator wall.

My heart caught in my throat as I teetered back and forth on my dangerously tall heels. The dug into the carpet and I knew I’d be face planting in a second.

Just as I was about to introduce my left cheek to the carpet Seth’s strong hand gripped my elbow and the other snaked around my waist, securely. I clung to his bicep, regaining my balance. He held me tightly and close to his side. My hand stayed tightly glued to my middle—a silent apology to baby Lapierre-MacFarlane.

For a moment, I looked up and Seth’s eyes were filled with concern, the stern look on his face no longer. “Ok?”

I blinked “Yeah.” And he was back to being Ice King.

“Good.” He said coolly, and unhanded me.

“Fantastic.” I matched his tone and my lips pressed into a thin line. Tonight is going to be a long night.

The tension could’ve been sliced through with a knife. Even Maurice felt it in the tiny space, bless his heart. He rolled on his heels and excessively cleared his throat. I pouted like a child, because Seth was acting like one.

Maurice looked relived when the elevator was on the lobby level and the doors opened. I don’t know if I was relived or nervous—Seth was in a horrible mood and he was meeting my best friend in twenty or so minutes. God help me. My heels clicked on the black and white striped floor of the bustling lobby, my hands clenched my clutch with unreasonable force. The cat was a horrible idea.

I jumped when Seth’s hand glided across my mid-back and felt a little better when it stayed there. I’m sure it was only because he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t lose my balance again, but it comforted me none the less. It stayed there until the driver opened the backseat door for me and held my hand as he helped me in. For a second, there was a glimmer of hope that Seth had decided to get over it.

That is of course, until he decided to sit up front with the driver.

……

The party was already in full swing by the time Seth and I got there. I linked my arm through his and warned through my tight smile “Fix your mood for the next two hours please?” His grip on my arm tightened.

“I’m not a fucking child,” He hissed, surveying the crowd.

I rolled my eyes internally, and spotted Francy and John on the other side of the lush room. “Really? Cause you’re sure acting like one.” I was poking the bear—but I what I said was true.

His arm unlatched from mine, leaving a cold spot where it used to be. I wasn’t expecting what came next...

His warm hand slid from my middle back to just slightly lower—just enough to make a tight coil of butterflies mixed with anticipation form in my lower belly. Live jazz music played, the crowd bustled around us, someone laughed loudly—I didn’t care. The only thing I could focus on was Seth’s hand and his simple yet sensual touch. Heat flooded to my face, he got close and his hot breath danced across the tip of my ear. “Fine,” He said in a deep tone that made me feel woozy “I’ll be the best goddamn WASP you’ve ever seen.” And he pulled away, clenching his jaw before switching to the most welcoming smile humanly possible.

I shook my head and swallowed. Get ahold of yourself, Lapierre.

I composed myself slightly, and it seemed Seth and I both adopted the personas of the ‘happy party-goer friends’ and all it entailed. My slight head bop and little wave to familiar faces as we weaved in and out of the crowd, Seth’s ability to seem completely at ease when talking to new people—a glass or caramel colored Jack resting effortlessly in his hand as he kept conversations going.

Old friends and acquaintances approached us both, completely oblivious to the fact that Seth and I would be stewing in our own respective corners had we been at home.

Sara, a mutual friend of Francy and I, ran up and kissed me on both cheeks. She squealed and her pixie cut stayed glued to her sharp features. “Alice! You’re absolutely glowing! Pregnancy looks great on you!” She grinned.

“How are you?!” I asked with equal excitement.

She talked with her hands and her Cosmo practically sloshed out of the glass “So, so great! The design team is so great to work on, I’m—“ She stopped midsentence, not finishing what she was saying about working for an up-and-coming fashion designer in SoHo. He eyes caught a load of Seth and she looked him up and down. Jealousy coursed through my veins.

I mentally scolded myself. He’s not YOURS to feel jealous about.

She did something strange with her eyes and stuck out her hand. “Sara Chang,” she breathed “You must be Seth…” He shook her hand and a bad taste formed in my mouth.

“Nice to meet you, I’m a—“

“The baby’s father? I know…I just love men with children, really, I do.” She purred. Her mention of ‘the baby’ without turning to me made me feel like I wasn’t even there.

“I’m sure you’ll make a single father very happy one day.” He said, his tone slightly strained and his affect a little short. Something was wrong.

She pulled a business card out of thin air and pressed it into Seth’s hand. Her fingers lingered a little too long, in my book. “I have to go make magic from silk,” she winked, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Seth nodded, uninterested, and took a swig of his Jack on the rocks. Thankfully, Sara left the party and went to go do her silk magic and what not, after that.

I brushed my arm up against Seth’s, a cool glass of non-alcoholic something in my other hand. “You good?”

He took another swig and for a moment, his tone was gruff “If you want to pretend like earlier didn’t happen, then yeah—I’m great.” I popped my lips.

“Can you just stay and meet Francy? Then you can leave.” I hoped he would decide to change his attitude then, revert back to earlier when he promised to be the ‘perfect WASP’ in a snide tone. I wanted him to stay, for us to have a fun night together, introduce him to some of my friends. Is that too much to ask?

“Unfinished work is piling up on my desk at home…”

My heart sank. I pursed my lips. “Oh. Well then you should go do that, then.”

“I’ll meet them though, first, of course.”

There were a lot of things that I wanted to say—no, YELL at him, but I chose to hold my tongue. Anyone with half a clue could see that I would only make him more agitated. Whatever was bothering him was more than a car and a cat, I knew that much.

Francy and John were finally free from a long line of well-wishers. She spotted me across the way and waved me over eagerly. She and John looked cute together, in coordinating colors—she had obviously forced him to step out of his box and wear tiffany blue.

Francy squealed when we neared and threw out her arms. I hugged her and she whispered “You guys had a fight?” I rolled my eyes and sighed. Are we really that much of an open book?

I pulled away and shook my head, this was not a fight—only a mere disagreement, a slight quarrel, a miscommunication, a difference in opinions, a pig headed man who can’t pull his head far enough out of his ass to—

I need to get ahold of myself!

My fingers lightly brushed across Seth’s forearm, he tensed slightly. He was more than annoyed, he was pissed. But thank God for that fake happy front every entertainer seemed to be able to put on. “I’m Seth,” He greeted warmly and stuck out his hand “Great to finally meet you both.”

John shook first, eagerly like a giddy child. “Big fan, of yours! Huge, huge fan!”

Seth laughed a little “That’s great to hear man.”

Francy’s hand cut in front of John and his fan-girling. I took a casual sip of my over sugary mocktail. “So you’re the man who knocked up my best friend?” Holy shit. Heat flooded to my cheeks and I tried to direct my attention elsewhere, I pretended to be really focused on the jazz trio and the view behind them.

“You must be Francy. Alice didn’t tell me you were so beautiful.” Seth MacFarlane! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! I couldn’t watch. I took a large swig of my drink as if it was filled with liquid courage and not High Fructose Corn Syrup.

Francy laughed a slow laugh which only meant one thing—she was going to go all ‘New York’ on Seth. “Well aren’t you the charmer,” She said sweetly but then she lowered her voice “You cross my friend you cross me. Got it? I’ve got uncles and all over this state who would like nothing more than to take down a liberal Irish million—“

“FRANCE!” I hissed. Usually ‘Francy with questionable ties to the mafia’ was only reserved for cat-calling construction workers.

“I always found the Jewish Mafia to be much more threatening—they do have a lot to hold a grudge about after all.” I rolled my eyes and slapped Seth’s arm with the back of my hand. Before, I was ready to end our fight but now I was far from ending the fight. I swear he’s just trying to piss me off.

I sipped my drink with controlled spite.

“So,” John breathed and cleared his throat “I’m a junior partner at Charles Schwarb, I understand your broker is Tom Sellick, my boss.” Seth and John bantered back and forth about the market and I knew Seth was holding back eye rolls when John touted his conservative beliefs.

Francy and I chatted discreetly away from them “Are you guys okay, you seem…tense?”

I gazed at the beautiful city lit up in the dark “We’re fine. Something’s just been off about him today, nothing I can’t handle.” Francy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t get too worked up, it’s bad for that little bun in your oven.” I laughed

“How are we even friends? I hate cheesy statements like that.”

“We balance each other out, remember? You hate words on the walls and teddy bears—while I happen to love both.” I smiled and linked my arm through hers as we walked back to our ‘dates’. Seth seemed to be relaxed, now chatting with John and several other guys. I hoped he would change his mind and stay after all.

When we approached them, Seth shook their hands and offered goodbyes, my heart dropped. “Thanks man, yeah. Congratulations.” He said his goodbyes to John.

“God he’s cute,” Francy observed

“I thought you didn’t like him!” I looked at her, perplexed. The only thing I got from their meeting was that Francy was not fond of Seth and Seth didn’t really even seem to care.

“No, Mal. I just have to put up my ‘mean friend’ front—just so he knows not to fuck with you. You two really have some chemistry going on here.” I felt a wave of relief—Francy’s opinion meant a lot to me.

“No we don’t. You thought that the actors in Fifty Shades of Grey had chemistry too, remember?” I would fiercely deny any and all claims that Seth and I had chemistry. I had a hard enough time convincing myself that we didn’t without anyone else offering their opinion.

“I’m not wrong.” Seth approached us just in time for Francy to stop talking about chemistry.

“It was nice to meet you,” Seth said graciously “Congratulations.” He said and his eyes met mine. “I have a huge stack of work piling up at home,”

“I’ll see you at home, then, later.” I said cheerfully. Why can’t you just stay?

“I’ll take a taxi and leave the car service here for you.”

“Thanks,” I replied, pretending that I wasn’t annoyed.

And he left the party, just like that. I was hurt, but Francy didn’t need to know that. This was her party and I would not be the party pooper. So I mingled with everyone while they got slightly tipsy by ten, and I was stone cold sober. After toasts and hors d’oeuvres, I hugged Francy and John and left the party.

……

I didn’t bother to take my shoes off when I walked into the foyer from the elevator. Maurice had gone home and was replaced by a young attendant I didn’t recognize. I didn’t care to know who he was at that moment—he had beady eyes and wore too much cologne. Setting my clutch down on the pass-through table, I sighed. The apartment was silent and dark, but I knew Seth was home.

The heels on my pumps clicked on the hardwood and it echoed throughout the entire room. The party tired me out, and I was mad and a little hurt. The entire ride home I questioned Seth’s and my ability to overcome our differences when raising a child. Terrible images of joint custody agreements and lawyers and weekends from house to house floated through my mind, becoming all too real the further I analyzed it all.

I cracked open my bedroom door and resolved to talk about these problems with Seth in the morning. As soon as I turned on the light I went into a full blown panic. The cat is gone. I lost the cat! I ran into my closet and tore it apart in a frenzy, trying not to imagine all of the situations a blind cat could get himself into in such a large space. I crawled across the floor on all floors and called “Cat?”

“Cat?”

“Anybody?” I checked under the upholstered bedframe one more time. Fuck me. I sighed a long and overly-dramatic sigh before I picked myself up again and power walked down the hallway, turning every single light known to man in the apartment ON.

I tore apart the linen closet all the while calling for a cat with no eyes and no name. Seth is never going to let me hear the end of this. I worked my way further down the lonely hallway, door after door, checking all the corners twice until I got to the third door down—equally spaced between my bedroom and Seth’s. The baby’s room. My fingers wrapped around the knob and I made a mental note not to get myself worked up about the untouched space. Don’t focus on the lack of baby preparedness. There’s a blind cat on the loose!

The door peeled open. I turned on the dimmer lights and my eyes scanned from left to right until I caught sight of Seth trying to make me more pissed off than I already was. My hands flew furiously to my hips. The appropriate phrase for this moment? Hormonal Pregnancy Bitch Unleashed. “Really?!” I shrieked, possibly a tad overdramatic. I huffed at the back of a folding lawn chair plopped smack dab in the middle of the room, among piles of bubble wrapped fine art and unused furniture and some of my boxes from the Firehouse. There he sat, lounging with his feet crossed in front of him, one arm resting on the armrest of the chair—his hand holding a Jack on the rocks.

A little white paw rested on the other arm rest. “The cat was here the whole time?! I know even in your old age you could hear me yelling!”

“Relax.” He didn’t yell and his tone was even, but his inflections were warning—though I hardly cared.

I stepped further into the room and marched right in front of him, sufficiently blocking his view of the lit up city in the night. I tried to ignore the chest hairs peeking out from his unbuttoned button and the in any other circumstance, the blind kitten resting on his lap would’ve melted my heart like good chocolate in a double boiler. But I was angry, and my pumps gave me height over his sitting form—which I was hardly used to.

“I will NOT relax! I’m angry! You—you,” I exhaled and caught my breath, stamina was needed if I was going to break his emotionless expression. “You’ve said at least five times in the past month that you wanted another cat and then I come here with one and you call me an irresponsible child! I buy a car and that pisses you off for God knows what reason! And then you call this place your house when you’ve spent the past two months scolding me for telling you it’s your house! Not to mention the party! I just wanted to have a fun night with you and introduce you to my friends and—“

“Do you think I’ll be a good father?” He murmured. I breathed heavily, yelling a lot at once like that took more than I thought.

“What?” I asked while trying to regain my normal breathing pattern, not sure if what I heard was true.

He took a long, drawn out sip of Jack and the ice jingled in the glass. His jaw tightened as he set it down. “It’s a simple question. Do. You. Think. I’ll. Be. A. Good. Father.”

I heard right. “Seth—I—I can’t finish my argument first?” I wasn’t yelling any more. I didn’t have a reason to yell anymore. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Answer the question!” He snapped in a commanding tone I’ve never heard him use before. The cat jumped off of his lap. I stood there before him, with my eyes wide, my lip quivering slightly—he was scaring me.

“I’m sorry.” His voice lowered and wavered. “There was this fucking article on twitter—satire.” I waited cautiously for him to continue. “Today. You just—you’re ready and I’m not. You don’t need me.” His jawline tightened.

I didn’t approach him, but his apology and small explanation were all that I needed. My heart felt heavy and guilt coursed through me. Not often enough since finding out that I was pregnant had I stopped and thought about Seth and how he was handling everything. I made it too much my problem and failed to recognize that he was going through a lot too. He looked the most broken up that I’ve ever seen him—sitting in that chair. He had been thinking about this probably since sometime after our appointment that morning. The sheer thought of him doubting his ability to be a good father made a lump form in the back of my throat.

But I stayed where I was because I figured he needed space.

“You are the kindest, most considerate man I know,” My voice shook “You have such a passion for life—you’re ambitious and funny and intelligent. But most of all…” I pushed the lump further down by gulping “You’re loving.” My eyes filled up “And any child would be lucky to have you as a father.” My hand found its comfortable spot on the curve of my belly, just above my navel “This baby is the luckiest baby.” My voice was thick with emotion because the words I spoke had never been truer.

His face still held less emotion than I ever thought humanly possible. My words won’t get through to him. I sniffed and moved away from the wall, before bending down to loosen the straps around my ankles. I stood back up and moved to quietly pass by his chair. This is the end. I thought. He doesn’t want the baby, a small, pessimistic voice in the back of my mind warned. Just as I was almost past the waxed wood and canvas beach chair, with my head hung low and a disappointed expression on my face—his warm, strong hand gripped mine and in one swift move he pulled me gently towards him.

I stood before him, my brow furrowing, confused. His hands moved to grasp both of my arms before sliding down to rest securely on the curve of my hips. His simple touch felt more intimate than anything I had ever felt before. His dark eyes fixated on my midsection intensely, I tried not to feel self-conscious. I internally shivered when his palm ran over the swell of my stomach covered by silk—his touch lighter than a feather—and back to my hip again. Gently but desperately, he rested his forehead on the middle of my protruding stomach.

Oh Seth.

I kicked off my heels, losing a few inches of height, and his arms wrapped around my middle. My fingers tangled in his thick hair. A wordless “Yes, this is okay” gesture. After a few seconds, he sighed and his shoulders were no longer tense, his grip becoming tighter. Though no words were actually spoken, it was the most we had ever said to one another.

We stayed like that for minutes or hours—I wasn’t sure because I didn’t care. I softly raked my fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.” I murmured after a while.

“I’m sorry too.” He said and pressed his lips softly below my navel. Placing a gentle kiss on my growing belly. Butterflies danced in my stomach at the gesture. For a moment I wasn’t concerned about the fact that we were slowly stepping over the platonic line, my focus then and there was to make sure Seth knew just how much our unborn child needed him, too.

“You’re so goddamn prepared and know just about everything there is about babies—I don’t even know how to change a diaper, and I still haven’t come to grips with the fact that I’m not going to sleep through the night for a year. You don’t really need me, for any of this.” He laughed bitterly and I resisted the urge to snort. Because, what Seth didn’t seem to realize was that I couldn’t make even the simplest baby decision without him.

I reached down and cupped his face. Sometimes his eyes were so sad and lonely looking—it made my heart feel like it would shatter into a million pieces on the floor. “It’s true. You’re not prepared, but neither am I. I wake up every morning and for a moment I’m still just me, but then I realize that I have this alien thing attached to me and I feel like I’ve been dropped in the middle of the dessert with a toothpick and nothing else. And then I remember that I haven’t been dropped in the dessert alone, I see you and I immediately feel better.” It was true, if I didn’t have Seth—I don’t know if I would be able to do it alone.

Seth slowly took his hands off of me and stood up with a wince, he joints cracking. Normally I would’ve called him an ‘old man’ for that, but it wasn’t the time. He stood in front of me, his appearance slightly disheveled compared to when we left for the party. His warm hand cupped my cheek, and for a split second—my eyes shut and I felt woozy. I caught myself though, and tried to maintain my composure. After a few minutes of standing there he quipped “Why the hell won’t you just let me stay in the dark place?” sarcastically.

I narrowed my eyes “You remind me too much of Sinatra when you’re all dark and twisty…Like when he sings the Girl From Ipanema and—“

“Sounds like he’s ready to drink that extra bottle of Jack?” He finished for me. I smiled a half smile and nodded under his palm—Seth’s demeanor had changed for the better, I think.

My vision trailed to the blank walls surrounding us and I had an idea. “Come on.” I said and grabbed his hand, not waiting for him to protest. I led him almost through the entire length of the apartment, like a woman on a mission—well, I was a woman on a mission. If we both felt unprepared, then it was time we started preparing ourselves.

We rounded the corner to the pantry and I flipped on the light switch, revealing my pile of procrastination covered with a white sheet. “Is this the part where you lock me in the pantry and force me to live off of Cracker Jacks for the rest of my days?”

I rolled my eyes and held the end of the cotton sheet between my fingers. I pulled it off like a magician clearing a dinner table. Throwing the sheet to the side, I rubbed my hands together.

"Are you running a secret painting business out of our pantry?" I had cans upon cans of paint stacked on top of one another—eight shades of taupe in the mix alone.

I breathed “I’ve been sitting on these paint colors for a month, I keep collecting more and more of them…I just, You said choose one, but I can’t decide without you,” I can’t without him. I crossed my arms and looked at him seriously “I can’t make one minor decision about our baby’s future without you. I’m unprepared, you’re unprepared…the bottom line is we’re both unprepared and I there’s no one I’d rather be unprepared with more than you.” I said sincerely and smiled softly at him. He gazed at me and blinked slowly, a grin on his face mirroring my own.

I shrugged "So, choose one."

His hands moved to rest in his pockets casually and he stood next to me, close enough for our arms to brush against one another. "You know? If I were a stereotypical gay man in the nineties, this would give me a hard on." I giggled and slapped his arm

He looked down at me, his dark locks mussed up enough to make him seem young and innocent. "All of these?" I nodded "I'm gonna cover my eyes and just point to it.”

He covered his eyes with one hand and hovered over the pile. I stayed in the same spot, surrounded by canned goods, feet glued to the warm floor. I stifled a laugh, Seth picking out paint colors just seemed unnatural.

"There's no peach in here, right?" He asked suspiciously, face twisting into a grimace under his hand.

"No, peach is for nursing homes."

"Exactly. We do not want to feel like we're confronting the face of death and chocolate pudding every time we walk into the room." His hands landed on a can in the middle of the pile. The cream Farrow & Ball paint that I had almost chosen for good a few weeks ago. Seth uncovered his eyes and began to move the other cans off of his pick. He held onto the handle of the large can and lifted it triumphantly “And we have a winner.”

My wheels were turning. He looked at me suspiciously before coming to the correct conclusion “We’re painting it ourselves tonight, aren’t we?”

“Mmmhmm.” I rolled back and forth on my heels, smiling like a kid begging for a piece of candy.

Seth sighed “Goddamnit Al, don’t you value sleep?”

I hopped past him and turned of the lights in the pantry. “Nope! Too many things to do!” My hands planted on my hips, officially in ‘Nesting mode’. “Now, I will locate some painting supplies—do you mind covering the floor in old sheets? I have a stack from the firehouse in my closet.”

Seth saluted “Ya vol Mein Herr!”

I paused on my way to the room “Oh! We should change too.”

“I’ll just stay like this…”

“No! I like you in this shirt!” I exclaimed without thinking. Seth wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and heat flooded to my cheeks like an embarrassed school girl. “I mean it’s very high quality and a nice color. You don’t want to waste a perfectly good shirt…” I trailed off

“Uh-huh.”

I turned on my heel, face still probably the color of a ripe tomato. “You need an old shirt?” I realized that I didn’t really have anything paint-friendly in my wardrobe so I turned back around.

“Please.”

He disappeared into his room for a second and then threw an old folded t-shirt at me. I unfolded it and looked at the RISD logo and raised an eyebrow “Nads?”

“Now you see why I don’t mind if you get paint on it.”

I changed into the soft t-shirt and pulled the shoulder fabric of it up against my nose. I inhaled the scent, an intoxicating mix of Seth’s cologne and laundry detergent. I pulled it away and straightened myself. The shirt came down to my mid-thigh—but I pulled an old pair of gym shorts underneath just in case.

I actually had leftover painting supplies from the Firehouse that I brought with me, considering that I may need them for something when I moved out. I plopped them down on the sheets in the baby’s room and opened the can of paint, admiring its pearly sheen as I poured it into trays.

A loud instrumental tune wafted through the apartment and I smiled when Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice came over the speakers. Seth whistled along as he joined me, while I tried to distract myself from staring at him in a white t-shirt and black gym shorts.

I like New York in June, how about you?

I like a Gershwin tune, how about you?

I love a fireside when a storm is due

I like potato chips, moonlight, motor trips, how about you?

I'm mad about good books, can't get my fill

And James Durantes looks give me a thrill

Holding hands in the movie show

When all the lights are low may not be new

But I like it, how about you?

My hips swayed back and forth by their own accord, to the contagious mood of the music and the strokes of my paintbrush. Seth sang along in perfect tune and glanced at me every so often, changing to an obnoxiously loud and off key tone. The cat scampered around the room, I was slightly concerned he would bump into walls but he was ‘pretty crafty’ as Seth put it.

Seth squinted under his glasses as he glided a smaller brush along the outline of the Crown Molding, careful not to paint over the white color of them. “You know,” he said as the cat meowed obnoxiously and sat in the opposite corner of the room.

“What?” I asked in between wide brush strokes.

“I think I like this cat. He uses the blindness to his advantage, crafty little asshole.”

I agreed, in the few hours we’d had him, he was proving to be the best kind of cat—neurotic, intelligent, but sweet at the same time. “And he’s cute.”

“I’d say he’s more of a distinguished type.” I shook my head. This coming from the man who demanded I remove the cat from the premises only a few short hours ago. “We should name him something presidential.”

“Well, he’s neurotic—there’s always Nixon.” I joked.

“No Nixon will ever step foot in this house.” I think he was only half joking. “What about Franklin?”

I glanced over at our eyeless kitten. “Franklin?” I called and he meowed loudly “But only if I get to call him Frank.”

Seth laughed “The greatest president and the greatest musician rolled into one name? Done.”

I stepped away from the wall and dropped the paintbrush, cradling tiny Frank in my arms “Welcome to the family Frank.” His purr vibrated through his little body like a motor.

I set him back down and went back to my side of the wall, there was still work to be done. “We’re just checking all kinds of things off the list tonight!” I observed enthusiastically. Seth chuckled, and I knew that his mood had turned around. It still worried me that he didn’t think he would be a good father, but I’d make it my mission to convince him otherwise. All I knew was that our baby won the father lottery—and I felt an indescribable amount of thankfulness for that. I just wish Seth knew that.

…

The time read 2:00 a.m. and we were about half way to finishing the second coat of cream paint. The pungent smell of paint filled the apartment, so we opened all of the windows and put the cat back in the bathroom. Seth played a mix of the Best of the Rat Pack, surround sound, loudly—I’m sure it was wafting down 7th Avenue but on a beautiful Friday night in June, New Yorkers were out anyways.

Sammy Davis, Jr. singing Let There Be love made me feel like Seth and I had been transported to a scene in a 90s romantic comedy. It was idyllic—although I mentally scolded myself for thinking these kinds of things about Seth. PLATONIC. I NEED TO KEEP THIS PLATONIC.

The music switched to a personal—albeit cliché—favorite of mine.

Come Fly with me

I couldn’t help but twirl around to the instrumental part of it. Seth laughed at my pitiful, pitiful attempt at dancing. I started to do some little jig thing with my feet—not good. I twirled around again and gave into the temptation to bump my hip against Seth’s “You just say those words, and we’ll take our birds down to Acapulco, babe!” I sang off key and he just about rolled around to the floor, I was such a comical sight.

A few more songs and many more laughs later—we were standing back and admiring our work. The cream was bright and airy, just the way I wanted it to be. Seth draped his arm around my shoulders and cocked his head to look down at me. “Allie?”

“Hmm?” I asked, still staring at the walls, wheels turning in my head of how to decorate the rest of the room.

“We’re really doing this.” I squeezed his hand around my shoulder and rested my head against his chest. His lips grazed the top of my head, tenderly. We both gazed at the wall in front of us, the wall where our baby’s crib would go.

“We really are.”

{Chapter List}