Into You Series: The Complete Collection

18. Nia

CHAPTER 18

NIA

Five years ago

S ome childhood games never die, and making blanket forts with your siblings is one of them, though building them in a hospital waiting room when one sibling could become a parent at any moment might be when the term “grow up” is applicable, which is exactly what my sister Sarah is whining to all of us as we pass pillows around.

It’s late at night—or maybe early in the morning—on Christmas Day, and all the Smith children are throwing hospital sheets and pillows across aisles of chairs to create a blanket palace fit for the arrival of Harry’s daughter, Cara.

“Lawrence, pillow me!” Harry yells, causing a pop to his head when the fluffy brick hits him square in the jaw.

The nurse at the window tsks, but that’s the extent of her reprimand. It’s Christmas, after all, and other waiting room occupants in the maternity ward are helping with our pillow neighborhood.

I pile the final blanket on a stack meant to form the ceiling of a very sad parapet.

“You tried,” Harry says with a smile.

“Don’t insult my pillow genius,” I say. “And what are you working on anyway?”

He points to the area nestled between two couch cushions as walls, a tiny throw tucked around the edges.

“A nursery,” he says. I grin back but instead of a sweet moment, we have Jamie and Lawrence crawling their way over, bypassing other makeshift “rooms” in the palace.

“You’re such a sap,” Lawrence says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Who guessed baby brother Harry would be the first of us to have a kid?”

I smile to Harry. It’s a happy moment, one none of us expected but exciting all the same. Who isn’t excited to be an aunt or uncle? A grandparent? My heart swells and a buzz runs through me, but then it centers on my butt and I realize it’s just the phone in my back pocket, begging to be answered.

I tug it out and see an email in my work inbox. My stomach drops at the name. It’s been doing that a lot lately. Maybe I’m just desperate. Maybe my dry spell is finally catching up with me. All I know is that I have an email from Ian Chambers on a Sunday morning, and it just made me feel a bit tipsy.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Congrats!

Nia,

Good luck being an aunt. I’m sure you’ll be great. Or you’ll be bad. Who really knows since it’s your first niece? But I bet you’ll be great. Congratulations!

See ya tomorrow,

Ian

It’s a simple message. Unexpected, but weirdly welcome. Maybe it’s the atmosphere of this waiting room or my raging hormones, or maybe it’s that he’s the only person from work who congratulated the family—the only one who remembered. Whatever it is, my face lights up.

“Is that your work husband?” Harry asks, peering over my shoulder.

“God no,” I say, forcing out a laugh and pocketing my phone.

“Nia has a work husband?” Lawrence gasps. “Scandalous. Nia, who even are you now?”

“Stop,” I demand. “It’s just a co-worker congratulating Harry.”

“He congratulated you ,” Harry says.

“Stop reading my emails.”

“Did I hear work husband?” a voice says. Sarah pokes her head in and crawls into the fort. She pushes a stack of pillows out of her way and plops down beside us.

“Hey, that was the kitchen!” Jamie says, one hand palm up as if to point out the stove that is now in shambles.

“Whoops,” she says. Her eyes go wide but with zero apology. “But what’s this about Nia being a harlot at work?”

I groan loudly, grabbing a pillow and shoving my face into it.

“And that’s the microwave too.” Jamie exhales. “No respect.”

“Nia is a harlot?” Another voice greets us from the entrance, but it’s a much deeper one this time. When the face turns the corner, we all gasp as if in some B-rated horror film.

This killer was Mr. Grant Smith all along!

My chest is rising and falling, and I’m beginning to think I have the Twilight Zone ride imbedded in me for the night.

“Grant, wow…uh, you made it!” Harry’s tone gives off vibes of being both happy and apprehensive. I’d say I only have the latter emotion coursing through me.

Grant has been overseas for two years. What’s going on in his life? Good question. If you find out, let me know. How he knows about this even happening is beyond me. He hasn’t spoken a word to any of us since his move, at least not as far as I’m aware.

“Yeah, I figured I would,” he says. “Girlfriend is out of town and all.” His grins, and something about it rubs me the wrong way.

“Been a couple years,” Lawrence says. “I thought we were only stuck with the better half of the twins.”

Sarah chokes out a laugh, covering her mouth immediately. She’s reveling in the compliment.

“Can’t miss the first nephew, can I?” Grant says, flashing a grin to all of us.

“Niece,” I correct. My eyes narrow of their own accord.

“Oh-kay, I’ll go check on Mom and Dad,” Jamie says. He’s never been one to engage in awkward conversation. Give him a cabin and a fishing rod and he would hide from the world for years. It’s a wonder he emerged from Alaska for this, but not as surprising as the other brother in front of us flying in from who knows where.

“I’ll join you. One per parent,” Lawrence says. They crawl their way out, leaving only me, Harry, and the twins: one smiling, the other with a look of casual ignorance. He even has the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. I want to slap it off.

“Sure, right, so who’s the mother?”

“Rude,” I mutter.

“Her name is Riley,” Harry says.

“Yeah, but who is she?” Grant asks, laughing under his breath. “How have I never heard of her?”

Harry and I are quiet, but he clears his throat and straightens his posture. I wonder if he consciously meant to.

“I met her nine months ago,” Harry says. “We don’t date now, but it’s still my daughter, dude.” His good nature is faltering, slowly shifting its way back to the frown.

“We’re all chipping in on a present for her,” I say.

“What is this? Some charity case?”

I want to fight my way over every single pillow and strangle him with scratchiest hospital blanket I can find.

“God, Grant, you just got here and you’re already being the worst,” I say.

Then, with the shift of the blankets overhead, a sliver of hospital light shines in and I see his eyes: bloodshot, glazed over.

“Wait—are you drunk?” My tone is harsh, demanding, and unabashedly judgmental. I am totally judging the hell out of him.

He smiles wider and shrugs. “No, but why are we changing the subject from Harry’s baby mama to me?”

“Riley,” Harry corrects. His eyebrows are pulled together, a deep frown on his face. There’s no shame. It’s all defiance.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Seeing my family.”

“Since when is that something you do?”

“Girlfriend on a business trip—does that mean nothing? Well, I guess it does to you, Harry.” He nudges Harry, only to be shoved off.

“Dude, come on.”

Grant throws his hands up. “Where is your sense of humor, people? I’m joking!”

“Sorry for not getting the joke.” No, I’m not. I don’t want to understand. I want this interaction to end. And, as if like clockwork, the blanket fort is torn apart, and hovering over us are the heads of our siblings, grinning down at Harry.

“You’re a dad,” Lawrence says.

Harry smiles ear to ear, cheeky and almost tear-filled. I’ve never seen such a look of pride, not even when he opened his mechanic shop.

“Go get your baby mama, brother.” The moment disappears like the snap of a finger.

Harry’s eyebrows pull together and he stands, staring at the oblivious brother in front of him. “Why are you even here?” he demands.

Grant shrugs with a chuckle. He’s not really here, unaware of the family he’s quickly abandoning once again even though he’s done it several times before.

Grant doesn’t even register Harry’s bold middle finger as the new father leaves to go see his newborn daughter.