He turned three a couple months ago. It was October of 2010. We had filmed that unmentionable thing in late 2006. It took nine months to cook a kid...
Damnit. Crap. Shit. As if his looks weren't already a dead give away.
Shay had lost weight. She looked really good; well, except for the coughing and the sneezing and junk.
Wait...what was I thinking? I had bigger problems than how she looked.
I sat down in a chair by the coffee pot and exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding. My chest hurt, but this time for a totally different reason than it had four years ago.
"Did you forget how to pour coffee?" Kev asked. His hand wrapped around my shoulder. I jumped.
"What's wrong?"
What could I say? I hadn't told the guys about my horrible stint on that weight loss show. It never aired. I guess the public didn't want to endure Richard Simmons any more than we did. It was part of my totally dirty past that I wanted to forget.
Now I couldn't forget it. I had a lasting reminder that was going to be walking the earth long after I died.
Jake. Jacob. I had a son. My palms started to sweat.
"Are you sick?"
I shook my head. "N--no. Not sick."
"Hey, it's almost time to go on!" Bri called. Baylee flew past me on one of those razor scooters. His foot hit the ground, pumped hard, and away he went. He was like a mini-Brian. A Brian that still had a full head of hair.
Then there was James. He was totally beginning to look like Howie, especially when the two of them were both angry.
And Mason was blonde, but the brows totally linked him forever and ever to Kev.
Now I had added to the next generation. Hell, I had been the second one to become a dad and I hadn't even realized it. The egg whites I had for breakfast were threatening to come back up.
"Let's go," Howie said. I stood up; Kev was still looking at me with concern. I gave him a weak smile.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just nervous. I don't want to look bad in front of you."
Kev's green eyes danced. "One thing you've never done is looked bad on stage," he said.
That meant a lot. I really wanted to tell him the truth; I figured he'd have some words of wisdom for me.
Either that, or he would just kick my ass.
I was thinking the ass-kicking would probably come first.
"Arms up."
Jake's sticky hands flew above his head. I yanked at the shirt. He let out a laugh and stomped in place. I sniffled up my nasal drip and grabbed a washcloth. I ran it over each little finger and then across his gooey face.
"The donut was gooder," he explained. I couldn't help but smile.
"I see that," I said. I yanked open his drawer and pulled out another shirt. His arms flew back up above his head. His blonde head disappeared for a second; his blue eyes sparkled once I tugged the shirt down.
"Mommy still sick?" he guessed. I nodded.
"Yeah, buddy," I said. He placed his hand to my forehead. I wanted to cover him in kisses, but I didn't risk passing the germs again.
Chicago was a great place to live; it had been my safe haven ever since that disastrous show. Working for Oprah was perfect. I had wonderful benefits, a semi-flexible schedule.
The only down side was that I didn't trust many people to watch Jacob. I had no one that could come over and watch him while I crawled into bed.
"Mommy sleep," Jake chirped.
"Want to take a nap?" I asked hopefully. He looked like he wanted to say no, but he nodded.
Five minutes later we were in my huge King size bed. Jake had built a pillow fort around his little body. He smacked at them happily. My cheek hit the cool side of my pillow and I couldn't keep my eyes from closing. Little future basketball player feet shot out and pressed against my back.
My thoughts drifted right back to Nick. It was hard not to think of him; our son was a constant reminder. I had prayed for nine months that Jake would come out with dark hair and no visible sign of Carter-itis. Instead, he had come out like a clone.
It didn't make me love Jake any less, but it kept the hurt bubbling right at the surface. Seeing Nick today had only acerbated it. I felt the wounds reopen that I thought had finally begun to scab over.
Nick looked so good...so healthy. As much as I tried not to, it was hard not to keep up with what he was doing. I knew he had a girlfriend...a serious girlfriend. They were total gym buffs. Nick had tried a million different diets. He had flaunted his six-pack abs in a couple magazines. He was traveling the world. He had money...fame...friends. He had gotten his life together.
My life was almost the opposite. I hadn't left Chicago in years. Mom and Francie always came to me; I avoided L.A. like the plague. My apartment wasn't opulent, but it was roomy and in a safe neighborhood. My life revolved around work and Jake. Hell, I had spent over a year getting my little guy potty trained. I lived off Ramen noodles and Fresco tacos from Taco Bell. The word gym was still like a curse in my book.
My life was a work in progress.
The look of surprise on Nick's face was etched into my brain. I figured his opinion of me hadn't changed. I had been a desperation fuck. It had been a moment of drugged-up recklessness for him. I had felt guilty about the whole drug 'rat' for years, but in the end it had worked out well for him. I was sure that even though Nick was smart enough to put two-and-two together, he probably didn't care about Jake's existence. Who knew how many other children he had around the world?
Jake was better off without him. He was such a sweet boy. He might look like his dad, but I sure as hell didn't want him to start acting like him.
My son was going to grow up to respect women.
