Somebody Like You (28 page)

“Say something.” Even a laugh in his face would be better than this extended silence.

“I need you to clarify which ‘both of them’ you mean. Do you mean you miss both Sam and the baby? Sam and Haley? Haley and the baby? And if Haley’s name is showing up in the answer . . . well, I think I raised you to be smarter than that, son.”

Nothing like saying it straight up, Dad.

“I haven’t acted on how I’m feeling . . . I’m not even sure what it is that I’m feeling.” He drummed his fingers on the desktop. “It just complicates things.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used the word
complicates
. Don’t you think Haley has enough complications in her life right now? It hasn’t even been a year since Sam died. She just found out that her husband has a twin brother who walks, talks, and looks exactly like him. Just had a baby—six weeks early.”

Stephen didn’t need a detailed list of everything Haley was dealing with. And he knew that, as far as she was concerned, he was filed in the category labeled
COMPLICATIONS
.

And there was the word
again
.

“I’m not saying she won’t ever get married again. She’s young. She’s got a little girl who needs a daddy. Now, I know if this were during the times of Joshua or Judges, you could step in and marry her—”

Why did his dad have to bring up the Old Testament law? “I’m not planning on any sort of Levitical thing here, Dad.”

“So you’re telling me the feelings you have for Haley are brotherly, is that it? Because if that’s all it is, then I don’t even see why we’re having this discussion. Go ahead. Be a brother-in-law to her. Pray for her. Help her.”

“What if Haley doesn’t want my help?” Stephen swiveled in his chair and stared at the package of beef jerky, realizing he had no appetite for the stuff.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Sam may have married her for just that reason—she is an independent, strong woman. He’d have needed that, if he deployed a lot. If you want to help Haley, then be practical.”

“Like repairing the part of her fence that looks like it would topple over if I gave it a push? Painting the shutters?”

“Exactly.”

“A brother-in-law would do that.”

“Yes.”

“A simple offer of help.”

“Exactly.” In the background Stephen heard his stepmother say something. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to keep my date waiting.”

“No problem, Dad. Tell Gina and Pete I said hello.”

“Absolutely. After dinner.”

“So am I going to meet Sam’s brother?”

Haley stayed focused on the increasing pile of pink, purple, and polka-dotted baby clothes. At least her mother hadn’t insisted on her going shopping, too. They didn’t “do” shopping. But based on the number of bags she’d hauled into the house, her mother had purchased every single item with a bow, ruffle, or lace ribbon on it.

And now she’d tossed in a not-so-covert question about Stephen.

“I have no idea.” When Kit moved against her, Haley shifted her weight in the fabric baby sling. “I didn’t think I was going to like this contraption when Sara gave it to me, but it’s such a comfortable way to carry Kit. She’s calmer when she’s up against me and stays warm, too. And it’s a hoot that it’s called a Peanut Shell. I’ve got my Peanut in her shell.”

“Have you talked to Stephen since I arrived?”

So much for changing the topic. “Mom, you know I haven’t. We’ve spent every minute together.”

“Is that a complaint?” Her mother held up two sleepers, turning them to show how both the purple one and the pink polka-dotted one had ruffles along the backsides. “Ruffled bottom every time.”

“If you say so. Not that I ever wore one of these.”

“You most certainly did.”

“Pffft. Mother, don’t try to fool me. I know girlie stuff was outlawed in our house.”

“Haley Leigh Jordan Ames, I was well aware that I birthed a daughter when you were born.” Her mother revealed a pair of tiny patent leather shoes. How old would Kit be when she could finally wear those? “A daughter who eventually was determined to keep up with her big brothers, yes—but a daughter, nonetheless. The ‘girlie’ stuff didn’t last long, but you wore it.”

“Huh.” She could just see the toes of her washed canvas Rocket Dogs peeking out from underneath the frayed hems of her jeans. Her T-shirt was covered by one of Sam’s flannel shirts. “Some women are feminine. I’m not one of them.”

“You’re a female, Haley, which means you are, by definition, feminine. And behind all the who-cares-what-I-look-like clothes there’s a beautiful woman.”

You’re beautiful, Haley.

Now, what was Stephen Ames doing inside her head? Even though Stephen and Sam sounded alike, her husband had never called her beautiful. Strong, yes. Independent, yes. A good shot, yes.

Beautiful—never.

But his brother held her hand while she labored, wiped the sweat off her face, and told her she was beautiful.

“So what do you think?” Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she sat back and surveyed the mountain of new clothes for her granddaughter.

“I don’t think we need to buy another thing for Kit—and I’m not sure when she’s going to be able to wear some of these outfits.”

“That’s not what I asked. My question was: Will Stephen be coming around again?”

“I don’t know. When he left a week or so ago, he didn’t say. He’s Kit’s uncle, so yes, probably we’ll see him again.” Haley eased to her feet, careful not to move too quickly and wake Kit. “When, I don’t know. I think he’s realized I can’t really help him find Sam again. He’s got his life. I’ve got mine. And we’re not going to keep crossing paths.”

Why did saying that make her . . . sad? She wasn’t missing Stephen Ames. She already had enough emotions to deal with—to hold at bay. She didn’t need to add anything to do with Stephen into the jumbled mess.

S
tephen glanced at the backseat of his Mustang. A bag of groceries. And two bags labeled with the bright, primary-color logo of Babies“R”Us.

What was the saying?
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

There was no denying he was going to show up at Haley’s house with gifts—for his niece. And then he would offer to make dinner. But he hoped Haley didn’t think of him as a Greek—an enemy—anymore.

When he called and said oh-so-casually, “I’m in the Springs. Is it okay if I swing by later?” she said yes without pausing, adding, “My mom asked me earlier this week if she was going to meet you.”

If he’d known that, he would have driven down to the Springs sooner. It was only four thirty on Wednesday, so his hope was to ply his niece with gifts, meet Haley’s mom—Sam’s mother-in-law—and then offer to make dinner. He had all the ingredients for chicken carbonara, one of his specialties. All he could do was be casual and take it one step at a time.

As if he’d ever been casual around Haley.

She’d threatened to shoot him.

Shut the front door in his face.

Almost kissed him.

And then they’d experienced the birth of Kit together—even if he did stare at the hospital wall for most of the event.

So, presents and dinner—no big deal. Except that he hoped it was one more step forward for him and Haley—and Kit, of course.

Should he show up at the door with groceries or presents? Presents, definitely. The one uncomplicated cord binding him and Haley was Kit. How could she say no to a doting uncle?

“What did you do, buy out the store, Rogers?” Haley stared at the Babies“R”Us bags as if they were loaded with contraband. “Aren’t you unemployed?”

“Unemployed doesn’t mean I’m broke.” He set the bags on the couch, turning to face the slender woman walking down the hall toward him with Kit cradled in her arms. “Hello. You must be Haley’s mom.”

“Yes, I’m Paula Jordan—and you’re Stephen.” He didn’t have to work hard to earn a smile from Haley’s mother. “Haley wasn’t exaggerating when she said you looked exactly like Sam.”

It seemed being straightforward was a family trait. “It was a problem for our parents from the day we were born. My mom painted the nail of Sam’s big toe bright blue.”

Haley reached for Kit, but her mother shook her head in an
I’ve got this
kind of way. “And what color was yours?”

“No need to paint mine.” He motioned toward the bags. “I picked up a few things for Peanut—” Haley’s muffled laugh interrupted him. “—and, if you all like chicken carbonara, I also brought the ingredients with me and would like to offer my talents and make you both dinner.”

“I don’t think—”

Haley’s mom interrupted her daughter’s refusal. “That would be wonderful. I, for one, am tired of heating up casseroles or ordering pizza.”

“Mom—”

“Great. I’ll go get the ingredients.” He ducked out of the house. Let mother and daughter find their way back to verbal neutral corners while he lugged in supplies. He was just glad not to be in the ring with Haley for once.

Things were quiet when he returned. Mrs. Jordan sat in a rocking chair—when had that been added to the décor?—bottle-feeding Kit. He laid ingredients out on the counter: a roasted chicken, a box of spaghetti, whipping cream, fresh basil, fresh parsley, pancetta, and grated Parmesan—also fresh. He set a bouquet of white daisies on the counter with everything else. Casual. No big deal.

“Who are the flowers for?” Haley leaned against the arched entryway into the kitchen. She’d pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and added a black ball cap with an army logo. Instead of her usual sweatpants, she wore a loose gray cotton top over a pair of black leggings. Nice look.

“All of you.”

“Daisies—nice, no-frills flowers. Thank you.” She retrieved a tall glass vase from a cabinet over the fridge. “When you said you liked to cook, you weren’t kidding.”

“It’s something between a hobby and a passion of mine.” He found a pot and filled it with water, setting it on the stove to boil. “My stepmom liked to cook, and she let me hang in the kitchen with her. It was a good way to connect. And then, when I was a broke college kid, I discovered dates were cheaper when I cooked.”

“Ah, wooed the women with your culinary skills, did you?”

“You could say that. It was a great way to double-date. Jared and I would split the costs of groceries—and eat any leftovers. Of course, at first my specialties were spaghetti and pot roast.” Stephen kept opening drawers until he found Haley’s knives. “So, I noticed you got a rocking chair.”

“It’s from my brothers and their families. They gave my mom the money, and she shopped for it once she got here and had it delivered.”

“And she put it together?”

“No—she’s like me with tools. She paid extra to have it assembled.” Setting the flowers on the breakfast bar, Haley motioned to the dinner ingredients. “Can I help with anything?”

“You sure you don’t want to go take a nap or something?”

“If you tell me how tired I look, I’ll dump that pot of water on you.”

“You don’t look tired. You look . . . fine.” Okay, he needed to concentrate on putting dinner together, not on Haley. His sister-in-law. “How about shredding the chicken?”

“Sure.” She moved beside him where he stood chopping garlic, the aroma already tingeing the air. “So how come all this cooking skill never landed you a wife?”

“Who said it didn’t?”

“What?” She motioned toward his left hand. “You one of those married men who doesn’t wear a wedding band? Or are you divorced?”

“Guilty on neither charge.” He kept his eyes trained on the cutting board. “I proposed to my girlfriend Elissa a while back—got a no before I barely finished.”

“What? How long had you been dating?”

“Six months. Among other things, she said she felt as if there was something I was searching for.”

“She didn’t know about Sam?”

“No. No one did—except Jared. I told him one night early in our freshman year, thanks to a keg-induced bout of honesty.”

The scent of roasted chicken blended with the tang of garlic. “I still wonder why Sam didn’t tell me about you.”

“Don’t make it about you, Haley.” Stephen allowed his attention to stray from food prep and made eye contact with Haley. “Sam’s issue was with me and our parents. It wasn’t about him not loving you.”