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“What is it, Cammy girl?” She’s at the kitchen table. Dinner is ready and on the table. My room service brought my own meal so the three of us could at least eat together.

“Miss Bailey, she’s the best! We played all afternoon. I mean Nana and Auntie are fun, but Bai is way cooler.” It takes her a few minutes to get it out, the sentence longer and with a new name. I take a bite of my dinner. It’s not bad, but I’m willing to bet it wouldn’t hold a candle to the lasagna my girls are currently wolfing down between talking.

“Bai, Bai.” Piper, who’s my younger daughter, doesn’t talk as much as her sister Cammy, a three-year age difference between them. Some doctors say she’ll catch up, others say it’s because Cammy babies her. Either way, we’re taking it day by day, and until things settle, I’m not ready to think about speech therapy just yet. Before the Krissy incident, she was fine, talking as much as Cammy. Since more shit went down, it’s been different to say the least.

“That’s great. I’m glad you two enjoyed your time with her.” I word the her in a question. Mom appears behind the girls and mouths yes, a girl.

“Dad, we had a tea party, then she helped with my homework,” Cammy goes on to say between taking a forkful of the pasta, red sauce, and cheese, most of it landing along her cheeks instead of in her mouth.

“It seems Miss Bailey saved Nana from having to do the hard part, huh?” I take a sip of my beer that I ordered with my dinner of cheeseburger and fries.

“Plus, I got to read for so long. Nana hung out with Piper.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Pway with Bai,” Piper says in a sing-song voice. She’s a mess, shirt off sitting in the highchair so she won’t get down and attempt to paint the house with red sauce.

“Alright, girls, Pops is getting dessert ready, so I’m going to take your father into the other room and let him know what’s going on for the rest of the week, okay?”

“Bye, Daddy, love you!” Ice cream, cookies, pie, cakes, anything dessert supersedes time spent with dad.

“Love you. Be good for your grands.”

“I’m always good,” she responds.

“That you are. Love you, Piper.” My dark-haired baby girl looks up, fork in her hand, almost to her mouth, stopping mid-bite to look at me.

“Lub, Dadda.” She lifts her other hand, kisses the palm of it, and throws it back at me. I make a show of catching it and placing it on my cheek, a big smile on both of our faces. The ache in my chest from being away from them hits me again for what’s probably been the tenth time today. Makes me second-guess a lot of my life choices. There’s one thing for certain: I sure don’t regret my girls.

“Alright, who’s Bailey, and what did she do with my girls?” Mom appears on the screen, moving until she’s out on the back patio. The only noise in the background is the ripple of the water fountain in the pool.

“Hello to you, too. Now, son, don’t get upset with me. This needed to happen. I love watching my grandbabies, don’t get me wrong, and so do Hendrix and your brother, so don’t start giving me that glower right this moment.” The beer I set down to talk to my girls is back in my hand, held up to my lips, and I finish the bottle, taking deep gulps, knowing when my mother has a battle to pursue, it’s going to be long and drawn out until it ends on the side the way she wants it to. “It’s not that bad, you know. This will help everyone out, and it’ll make it easier on all of us. I love my girls. This is why I’m doing it. Your grandmother, God rest my mother’s soul, would have done this long before now. The writing was on the wall with Krissy, and I should have been more adamant. That’s why I set up an appointment with a nanny agency and hired Bailey.”

The bottle of beer makes a thud as I place it on the table in front of me, trying to clear the fog that has taken place in my head. “You hired a what?” Maybe the beer is going to my head faster than normal because I could have sworn my mother stated she hired a nanny to help with the girls.

“Mom, I love you. But I’m having a hard time understanding why you’d do this without talking to me first, and it’s not because I’m not opposed to it. I’m unprepared to say the least.” I run my fingers through my hair, bowing my head, worrying yet again if I’m fucking up in the parent department.


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