Fiona might be psychic, Seamus thought with a silent chuckle. He’d have to tell her the next time he saw her.
“What’s your mom like?” Bellamy’s bulk and close proximity forced him to brush against his body in the small kitchen. He rinsed the pasta, waiting for him to speak.
“Beautiful. Ageless. Romantic.”
“Are you talking about a skin cream or the woman who gave birth to you?”
Bellamy’s lips twitched. “Oh, you want specifics. In all honesty, I adore her. Everyone does. When Elle is focused on you, the world is full of color, anything is possible and you feel so loved you think you might burst. It’s genuine and joyful and…” He lifted one shoulder, as if he’d long ago come to terms with who his mother was. “And then something or someone distracts her and she has to go chase it down.”
Something about that description sounded familiar. It made Seamus uneasy. “Is she easily distracted?”
Bellamy’s smile was tinged with something Seamus couldn’t name. “She’s on lucky number seven now. He’s a nice guy. We’ve gone rock climbing together. Twenty years younger than she is, closer to my age, so he might be able to keep up with her.”
“Seven?” Seamus couldn’t imagine that. “At least she sounds like she’s coming from a hopeful place. I never understood why my Uncle Sol kept getting married.”
“Why?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “He never looked at any of his wives the way Dad looked at Mom, I guess. It sounds simple, but they’ve been together well over forty years and they’re still crazy about each other. My uncle knew going in he didn’t feel that way about any of them, but he still did it. He wanted children and he didn’t want to be alone. That’s not a good enough reason to promise someone forever.”
That made him think about Gillian, thankful she never took him seriously. He wasn’t like Sol. He didn’t want to be alone either, but he’d cared about Gill. He could see her in his life forever…as a friend. He hadn’t understood, not really, what he would have missed until Bellamy came along.
Bellamy wandered over to the Popsicle frames and artwork held up by refrigerator magnets. “She is hopeful,” he said quietly. “But she can’t be still. I think forty years would frighten her.”
“I didn’t mean there was anything wrong with—”
“I know.” Bellamy’s smile was beautiful. “When I was five, she told me there are two types of people in the world. Trees and birds. I was wondering why she was leaving again, so I’m guessing she was simplifying too.” He laughed softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “She said trees put down deep roots. They were big and strong and solid, but they could never move. They were cursed with one perspective, one point of view for their entire lives. Birds, on the other hand, have to fly to survive. They might make a temporary home in the tree, keep it company and tell it stories about its travels, but when the seasons change they’ll need to take off to a more exciting destination. And the tree will still be stuck. Unable to follow, even if it wanted to.”
“Are you trying to say I’m a tree?” Seamus kept his tone light as he set the table, but he couldn’t help feeling for young Bellamy.
“I believe she was trying to say my father was a tree and she was a bird, but she didn’t know what the hell I was yet so she was leaving me with the nanny.” Bellamy chuckled. “I think. Or it was just nonsense so I’d stop crying. Whatever the case, it worked. I finally thought I understood why she was always leaving, and that it wasn’t because of me. It made it easier.”
Seamus glanced at the kitchen doorway before reaching up to cup Bellamy’s cheek, unable to resist the need to touch him. He leaned into his hand like a cat, his beard scraping against Seamus’s palm.
“Jake did a book report once about migratory patterns that says for all their traveling, birds are actually pretty predictable and loyal. Something inside, like a homing beacon, always brings them back. So she may not have left because of you, but I’d bet you’re why she always came back.”
“I’ve told you before I don’t need you to take care of me, and still you can’t resist.” But the look in his eyes was warm and open.
“The bartender’s curse. Sticking my nose into other people’s business.”
“Your family’s curse, I think. You’re all busybodies.”
“I can’t deny that.”
Running footsteps had Seamus taking a step back and dropping his hand guiltily.
Bellamy stopped smiling.
***
It was after midnight when Seamus realized Bellamy wasn’t coming to his bedroom. Why? Had opening up about his mom and having Wes go from hiding to climbing his lap so he could tell him all about Jeremy’s comic book character, Vini the demon, made him realize that this relationship was a stupid idea? Too complicated?