Great. Just like Mira. He’d always wanted to be the poster child for baby drop-offs. “What’s Noah think about this?”
Solomon looked like he wanted to hit something. “Does it matter? He’s twenty-eight and he and Wyatt live like they’re still sharing bunk beds at home. Life is a frat house or a firehouse to them. Not exactly a lifestyle conducive to thinking or raising a child.”
“Neither was mine,” Seamus offered quietly. “You shuffle things around. You make room.”
Solomon banged his fist lightly on the counter. “You shuffle things around, Seamus. He isn’t you. He’s never even taken care of a goldfish.”
Because you took care of everything for him. “He might be a little younger than I was when Jake came into my life, but he’s more together, whether you believe it or not. He’s got a solid career, up to date payments on that townhome and a large, lovingly intrusive family that he’s helped out more than once this past year. What did he tell you he wanted to do?”
His cousin’s expression was despondent. “He wants to keep it. I don’t know if it’s because Elder beat the importance of Finn blood into all of us since birth or if he genuinely thinks he’s ready for something this big. I told him to take some time before making his decision, but he’s not listening to anything I say. No one is lately. You’d think I wasn’t the oldest. That I didn’t own a gun.”
Seamus set a supportive hand on Solomon’s shoulder. “No one listens to me anymore either. And now that they’re all pairing up it’s only getting worse. We’ll be the last single stick-in-the-muds of the family. It’s time we embraced it.”
“Not cheering me up at all.”
If Solomon’s laugh had a bitter tinge, they both ignored it. “Hey, I’m a bartender, not a life coach.”
Penny bounced into the room tugging Jake in behind her. “We’re hungry now. Jake needs brains.”
“Brain food,” Jake said with a patient smile.
“We’ll talk more later,” Seamus assured Solomon, pasting on a cheerful smile and grabbing Penny, spinning her around as she giggled in delight before sitting her down at the small kitchen table. “This one has to eat her pre-birthday sandwich and drink her pre-birthday juice.” He winked at Jake. “And tomorrow we have to do whatever Prince Wesley and Princess Penelope want.”
She loved that idea. “Can I make a list?”
When lunch was over and Seamus finally got them out the door with their bags and a harried-looking Solomon standing by his SUV, Jake came back to give him a one-armed hug. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”
He knew that hug. “What’s wrong, Jake?”
“Nothing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes.
“Spit it out.”
“I think you should date,” he blurted suddenly. “I’m old enough to take care of the kids, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Shit. “I know you are, son, but you’d be depriving your grandparents and aunts and uncles if you did that. They love spending time with you. Let’s make a deal. You stop worrying about your old man’s social calendar and just enjoy being a super genius, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Okay. But you’re only single because you don’t date, Dad. You always tell me to try before I give something up. You should try too.” He disappeared after getting the last word.
He’d obviously heard part of his conversation with Solomon. He wondered if he’d caught the news about Noah as well.
After they left, Seamus grabbed a bottle of water and went down to the basement where he’d made space amid his boxes and clutter for a personal gym. He spent an hour lifting weights, using his tread climber until he was soaked in sweat, and finished the circuit by punching the freestanding bag as if it owed him money.
You should try too.
He climbed the stairs two at a time and stripped before jumping in the shower. The sad, pathetic truth was that he had tried. No one knew what he was going through because of it or how much he’d changed. No one even suspected what had happened in Ireland. But Jake sensed something was different. He’d been making noises about Seamus dating for months now. How did he see what the rest of his family couldn’t? What his own twin hadn’t? How did his thirteen-year-old son know about the cracks in his heart?
It had been five months since he’d gone to Galway. Since he’d received the far too generous Christmas gift he still felt guilty about. Since he’d made a fool of himself and gone temporarily insane.
He’d tried to let it go. But every night when he closed his eyes he was back there. Every time he had five minutes to himself…
Seamus gripped his hardening erection with a frustrated groan. Every time he was alone, this happened. When would the need go away? When would he finally get back to normal?