Somebody Like You (25 page)

“Of course. Sometime.”

“You’ve got my number.”

“Yep.”

He bent low, and for a moment, Haley expected him to press a kiss to her cheek. But instead his lips grazed Kit’s forehead.

“Good-bye, Peanut. Behave for your mom, you hear? Don’t keep her up all night.” His brown eyes searched hers. “Take care of yourself.”

“You, too. Thank you . . . for being there.”

“Anytime. That’s what uncles—and brothers-in-law—are for.”

She thought about reaching out and giving him a hug. Just a gesture of thanks. But she didn’t.

Instead, she watched him walk out of the NICU. His gait steady, his posture straight. Just like Sam’s—only slower. As if he were more confident in who he was. His dark hair glinting under the hospital lights. Just like Sam’s—except for how the ends brushed his ears and the nape of his neck.

She’d miss him.

Not like she missed Sam.

But she’d miss him all the same.

Stephen surveyed his work from the middle of the bedroom. Fresh air blew in through the open window, diluting the odor of paint. Would Haley like this color for Peanut’s room? He’d steered clear of anything close to pink, hoping she would approve of a warm, muted yellow. It was a little late to worry about the choice now that he’d spent the day taping, spackling, and layering two coats of Sweet Chamomile onto the walls.

He picked up the paint tray and brush, dodging the crib, which was covered with a clear plastic drop cloth. Time for clean-up, and then he’d head back up I-25 to Fort Collins.

Twenty minutes later, he abandoned the paint supplies in the tub when he heard the front door open.

“Stephen, are you still painting?” Claire’s voice grew louder as she neared the bedroom.

“Just finished up.” He turned off the water, half-rising to his feet. “Were you able to get the cradle?”

“Yes—it’s perfect.” Haley’s friend appeared in the doorway,
wearing a deep red cape coat. “You want to help me carry it in?”

“Don’t even try to bring it in. Let me wash my hands and I’ll be right there.”

Claire stood beside her Cabriolet convertible when he walked outside. “I didn’t put it in my car. The woman who sold it to me asked her husband to load it in the back for me.”

Stephen was already second-guessing himself. “What do you think Haley will say when she sees this?”

“It’s beautiful—and it’s exactly what Haley needs. She just doesn’t know it yet. Her plan was to have a son who slept through the night in a crib in his room when he was three days old.” Claire pulled open the hatch. “You can already see how her plans are working out.”

“I half expected her to ask someone in the NICU about whether they do trades.” Stephen hauled the cradle out of the car. “But then I see her holding Peanut and I know that’s not going to happen.”

“Hardly. That baby is all she has left of Sam.” Claire, who was ahead of him, stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I mean, there’s you of course, but—”

“I get it, Claire. It’s not the same thing.” He carried the white cradle into Haley’s room, setting it beside the bed. “Is this a good place to put it?”

“Perfect. Oh! Let me go get the bedding—it’s all pink. The woman included it. No extra charge.”

Fifteen minutes later, Claire found him in the bathroom, bent over the side of the tub, rinsing and rerinsing the paintbrush. “So, what are your plans now, Stephen?”

“Plans? Well, I’m going to get cleaned up and then I’m heading back to Fort Collins.”

“It sounds like the baby is staying in the hospital for up to a week—and that means Haley, too. At least, that’s what she said
when I talked to her on the phone earlier. And then her mom comes next week, so it’s okay. I was all ready to help, but I’ll just keep hanging out at the hospital.”

“Everything’s falling into place, then.” He set the brush in the paint tray. Stood, and walked over to the sink to begin scrubbing yellow paint off his hands. He’d deal with whatever he’d gotten in his hair when he got home. “Everything’s getting covered.”

“What you’ve done—it’s amazing, Stephen.”

“I’m only doing what Sam would have done if he were here.”

“No—no, this is way more than Sam would have ever done—” Claire clapped her hand over her mouth, her green eyes wide.

“What are you saying, Claire? That my brother wouldn’t have helped Haley with the baby?”

“Oh, sure, Sam would have been there for the delivery—if he wasn’t deployed or training or something. But all of that—” She motioned back toward the baby’s room. “—the painting and finding a cradle—he would have left that to Haley.”

Stephen nudged the hot water hotter. “Wouldn’t they have had fun doing that together?”

“That’s just it: Sam and Haley didn’t do a lot together. We always joked they were ‘married singles,’ you know? It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other—I mean, why would they have gotten married if they didn’t? But Sam’s biggest compliment to Haley was always how much he loved not having to worry about her.”

Stephen turned off the water, shaking his hands over the sink to dry them off. “Can you go find me an old towel in the garage, please? I saw some in there when Haley and I were organizing it the other day.” He motioned to the blue towels hanging on the rack. “I don’t want to get these dirty.”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

After Claire left, Stephen turned and leaned against the vanity, his arms at his sides. What kind of marriage did his brother and Haley have exactly? Not that he had any right to ask the question—or any way of knowing, except based on what Claire said. And she was an outsider looking in. Except for when Haley broke down during labor—and she didn’t know he’d heard her say she wanted Sam—she’d hardly mentioned his brother.

Married singles.

What kind of marriage was that?

S
tephen couldn’t put his life on hold forever. He lived in—needed to be in—Fort Collins.

He’d been back home for four days, and his rolling suitcase still sat just inside the door to his apartment, next to his laptop bag, which he’d let slide off his shoulder and land on the floor beside it.

He’d managed to sleep—some—the last three nights, but the exhaustion that had trailed him north from the Springs lingered. And somehow the gravitational pull that tugged his mind, heart, and body back toward a tiny bundle of a baby with his brother’s brown eyes—he refused to admit how easily he could recall the blue depths of Haley’s eyes—only got stronger with the passing of every hour.

He needed to shake it off—whatever this was. He needed to focus.

It was nine thirty in the morning, and the day demanded more from him than inactivity. What should he do first? He could unpack his suitcase and start laundry. Or he could get his
laptop out of his messenger bag, power it up, and restart his job search. Or he could go online, find out if Haley had a Facebook page, and if she did, send her a friend request in the hopes that she’d forget all the reasons to ignore him—including the fact that he’d barged into the delivery room—and friend him. And then he could hope she’d posted photos of his niece so that he could spend the next hour looking at them.

Stephen retrieved his iPhone off his desk, hit Jared’s contact info, and FaceTimed his friend.

He started talking before Jared’s face appeared. “I blame you for this.”

“Well, hello to you, too.” The face of Moses, Jared’s Great Dane, appeared on-screen as Jared positioned the phone. “What am I being blamed for, exactly?”

“You were the one who told me to do it. And I did. And now look!”

Jared shoved his dog away and moved the iPhone so Stephen could see him. “I am looking—and all I see is your ugly mug up close on my phone screen. Be specific.”

“Let Elissa go. Find Sam’s wife . . . widow . . . who is—
was
—pregnant. And now I have a niece, who was born six weeks early—”

“As I recall that conversation—and don’t quote me because it was months ago now—we were eating dinner and you asked me if you should try to find Sam’s widow. And I said, ‘Yes.’ And now you’re blaming me because your nice, orderly life is a mess.”

“I didn’t have a nice, orderly life.” Stephen reached over and pulled the bag of beef jerky he’d opened hours earlier closer so he could reach it without falling off the couch. “I had also just gotten laid off before all this started. Or had you forgotten that?”

“No, I hadn’t forgotten that. And also as I recall, you volunteered yourself out of a job, buddy. Only I don’t see that as a
problem. That, my friend, is your open door to walk into a new business opportunity with me. When are you going to wise up and realize that?”

“When are you going to accept that I don’t want to do the whole ‘let’s start up a company’ experiment? That I’d like the security of a real job?”

“As if there’s such a thing in today’s economy.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m a funny guy, Stephen. But I’m being serious.” Jared’s face was obscured behind the bottom of a plastic cup while he gulped something down. “Have you read your own business cards? The word
entrepreneur
is on there for a reason—and no one forced you to add it after
architect
. So, are you about taking risks or not?”

Stephen stretched out on his couch, the cushion offering little comfort, holding his phone at arm’s length. “I didn’t call to talk business.”

“We always talk business. We have since we were in college. It’s how we roll. But I’m sorry things didn’t go so well with Haley.”

“I hoped to know Sam better when I was done, you know?”

“And you don’t?”

“No. And I don’t feel like I’m anywhere close to being done. But there’s no reason for me to go back down to the Springs. I’ve asked questions. Haley’s given me answers. And now she’s going to be busy with Peanut—”

“Excuse me? Who or what is Peanut?”

“Peanut is my niece—and don’t ask me what her real name is, because I don’t know. It might be Katherine or Kit, but I’m not sure.”

“Isn’t there some sort of law that you have to name a child—”

“She’s got a name. I just don’t know what it is.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“You’re telling me.” Stephen popped a hunk of jerky into his mouth, the saltiness overpowering his taste buds.

“But I can fix your problem.”

“You can tell me what my niece’s name is?”

“Better than that.” Jared’s grin filled the phone screen. “How’d you like to take a trip back down to Colorado Springs?”

“And why would I need to do that?”

“I have a friend—a friend who just inherited a significant chunk of change, by the way. And he’s interested in investing in our company.”

“We don’t have a company, Jared.”

“Yet. We don’t have a company
yet
. But given the right investor and the right product and the right name—”

“Those are a lot of blanks to be filled in.”

“So we brainstorm. Are you interested in meeting with my friend Joe? He’ll be at the Broadmoor next week. Lunch or dinner at the Summit?”

Stephen eyed his suitcase. All he needed was to change out a few items, do some laundry, and he was good to go. “I’m in. E-mail me the intel, and I’ll call you back in an hour to talk strategy.”

“Done. And make sure you let me know what that baby’s name is, okay?”

“Done. Talk to you later. I need to go unpack so I can repack.”