Hook, Line, and Sinker (Flirting with the Zodiac Book 1) Page 20

  “Be careful with my grandson,” Ethel admonished.

  “Excuse you, I was careful with my son for eight months, I think I know what I’m doing.”

  Lawrence grabbed his wrist and readjusted his arm under Rio’s head. Ty glared at him. Ethel lifted her eyebrows.

  Rio chose that exact moment to start bawling. “Uh—Lawrence. What … what do I do, with …”

  “Hold him! Like this—he likes to be rocked. Like this, no—yeah, there you go.”

  Ty peered down at the babe in his arms, looked into those red eyes and felt, for a split second, like he was looking at a mirror. Rio opened his mouth wide, yawning. His eyes fluttered shut, and the illusion was broken. Ty curled him back toward his chest. Rio nestled in again, his hand catching at Ty’s gown. Ty glanced shyly at Lawrence, then back down at their sleeping baby.

  Twenty-Six

  Rio wasn’t terribly interesting, Ty discovered in short order. He cried when he was awake, mostly, and then slept the rest of the time.

  From the way he’d kicked at Ty while he was on the inside, Ty had expected him to be a little more … active.

  Not that he really minded; he wasn’t moving very far or very fast, not with seventeen stitches holding his insides together. He was thankful for the IV, even if it meant he was under strict orders not to put Rio to breast, no matter how natural or tempting it seemed.

  It was annoying, because Rio would nose at him, then look up at him expectantly with those red, red eyes, and if Ty had known he was making a sassy little clone of himself, he would have never agreed to this.

  Rio was trouble. At least he was kind of cute, even if he did look a bit like an alien. (“He is an alien,” Ethel had said and Lawrence had gasped in indignation and Dad had said, “Well, it’s partly true, anyway,” so at least everyone was getting along.)

  Rio slept on Ty a lot, partly because the doctor thought it was advisable to establish parent-infant bond after Ty and Rio had been separated for three days, and partly because Ty didn’t want to let go of Rio, because they’d been separated for three days.

  Rio didn’t complain much about it; Ty had a few more issues, such as not really being able to do much about dirty diapers or getting bottles. He’d tried to get up after Lawrence and Ethel had left to visit Myrtle the first day he’d been awake, and if he hadn’t realized that was a mistake by the time he was halfway out of bed (his guts felt like they were going to fall out), half the nursing staff rushing into the room and practically pinning him back to the bed had been a good clue.

  They didn’t want him moving for at least another three or four days. He figured he could probably lie there for two or three weeks, the way he hurt.

  Rio was napping on him again, eyes closed, one tiny hand resting under his cheek, his mouth moving just a touch, as though he were dreaming. Ty wondered what babies dreamed about—probably milk, if Rio was anything to go by. He shifted a little; his arm was sore and going to sleep from having Rio cradled so long. Rio sighed a little, his head lolling as he was jostled. He lifted his shoulders, turned his head. His brows knitted together; he stretched out the hand that had been under his cheek, and for a second, Ty was sure he’d just turned on the waterworks.

  Then the hand dropped; Rio nuzzled in, sighing again as he apparently got comfortable. He’d pressed his head a little harder against Ty; Dad said baby Pisceans liked to listen to heartbeats. Ty had no idea if that was true or not, but Rio looked calm and content again, so maybe there was something to it.

  There was something nice about having nothing else to do except watch a sleeping baby. Rio had relatively few cares, other than being warm and safe and fed.

  A rhythmic squeaking brought him back to the moment, and Lawrence smiled at him as he entered the room, pushing his grandmother ahead of him. Myrtle sat primly in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The chair dwarfed her; her hospital gown seemed to billow around her and her admittance band dangled loosely around a skeletal wrist. Her face was gaunt and drawn; her hair was wild, but worst of all were her eyes—dull and unfocused, as though she could see beyond.

  Ty resisted the urge to clutch Rio tighter to him.

  Lawrence wheeled Myrtle about, then touched a hand to her arm. “Hey Gran,” he said, and she turned to him slowly. Her head bobbed of its own accord—not a nod.

  Lawrence touched the crook of her elbow, guiding her up. She tottered on her feet. He helped her out of the chair, assisting her the few shuffling steps to the seat he’d left beside the bed. She almost collapsed into it, breathing hard. Lawrence put his hands on her shoulders—a light yet firm touch. “There’s someone we’d like you to meet,” he told her, and her brows knitted together. He pointed to Ty and Rio, and she followed his arm.

  She stared at Ty with those unnerving eyes for a moment, her frown deepening. Ty cleared his throat. “Hey, Myrtle,” he said, and Rio jolted awake, clutching and kicking at him. He stuffed a fistful of Ty’s hospital gown in his mouth, cooing around it.

  Lawrence leaned in again. “This is Rio, Gran. He’s your great-grandson.”

  “Oh,” Myrtle said, and her eyes lit up—not with recognition, but a sort of childish delight. A smile soared across her face. “Rio.”

  “Yes,” Lawrence said, and it took everything Ty had not to pull away as Myrtle reached one of those skeletal hands toward him.

  “My grandson,” she said, nodding a little. The frown returned. “I have grandsons. Lawrence and Charles.”

  “Yes,” Lawrence agreed, “I’m Lawrence.”

  She looked at him, bewildered. “No,” she said finally, “you’re Larry.”

  “No, Gran. Larry’s my dad. I’m Lawrence.”

  She huffed a little breath, then shook her head. “I’m so mixed up,” she muttered.

  “It’s okay,” Ty said softly. “I’m a little mixed up too. They give us the good painkillers in here, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, looking at him. Her gaze shifted back to the baby. “My great-grandson.”

  “That’s right,” Lawrence encouraged.

  “What’d you say his name was?”

  “Rio.”

  “Rio.” She closed her eyes, nodding. “Like a river.”

  Ty shuffled around on the bed, so that his legs were dangling off the side. Lawrence shot him a glare. Rio complained a little about being jostled, then cooed.

  “Hey,” Ty said, “who’s this? This is someone new, someone you’ve never met before.”

  “Ah,” said Rio, opening his mouth wide. He stared directly into Ty’s eyes, as though he could read Ty’s mind or something. Then he looked sharply back at Myrtle.

  “That’s great-granny,” Ty said.

  “Ahhhh,” Rio said and clutched at Ty.

  “Hello,” Myrtle said, “hello, my handsome little man, oh, look at you. What eyes!”

  Rio chirped, then curled against Ty. Myrtle smiled. “You’re shy!” she declared.

  Rio buried his face against Ty. “He’s probably hungry,” Ty muttered, and Lawrence laughed.

  “Would you like to hold him, Gran?”

  Myrtle frowned. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t know if I should.” She looked at her arms. “I’m an old lady now. I’ve been weak these last few days.”

  Ty and Lawrence shared a look. “I’ll help,” Lawrence said, reaching out for Rio.

  “There you go,” Ty said, tugging at Rio’s hands. He had a strong grip, which was ridiculous. “Go to Daddy.”

  Lawrence cradled Rio in one arm, dragged up another chair so that he was sitting as close to Myrtle as possible. “Rest your arm here, Gran. Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

  Myrtle sighed, even as Lawrence bundled Rio into her arms. “I suppose that’s how this all works,” she said, looking down at Rio. “You hold your little ones, and eventually they’ll be the ones holding you up.” She looked down at Rio. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

  “Ah,” Rio agreed, then stuffed a hand in his mouth, sucking thoughtfu
lly on it. He spat it back out and looked around a little, cooing to himself.

  “He’s hungry,” Ty sighed.

  Myrtle didn’t seem to hear him. “My, you’re a handsome little man,” she said, then glanced at Lawrence. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Rio.”

  “Rio. Like a river.”

  “Yes, Gran,” Lawrence agreed.

  Myrtle rocked a little. “It’s been a bit since I held a baby,” she said. “You’ll have to excuse an old woman, Rio. You’d think it’s like riding a bicycle—you never forget, but …”

  “You’re doing fine, Gran.”

  “You have a little bit of Piscean in you, don’t you? That’s nice. That’s so nice, to see everyone getting along.” Her gaze was suddenly far away again. She grabbed up one of Rio’s questing hands and gave it a good squeeze. “You teach your mum and dad, you hear? They’re going to learn so much from you, so you give them all the trouble you can muster.”

  “Gran.”

  “I’ll be watching,” she said, nodding, her eyes wide and serious. “So you go on and make me proud, hm?”

  “Ahhh,” Rio said, then looked around, maybe for Ty or maybe for a bottle.

  “You’ll be all right,” she murmured. “Hm, yes. I’m glad I got to meet you, Rio.”

  He looked back at her then, eyes wide. She widened her own, then sighed. “Goodness, he’s heavy!”

  “Here,” Lawrence said, scooping Rio back out of her arms. He fussed, his little face screwing up as he got ready to cry.

  “Must be getting good nutrition,” Myrtle muttered, “growing like a little weed.”

  Ty wanted to tell her Rio was only four days old, but she’d closed her eyes and nodded to herself, drifting back to wherever she’d been before Lawrence had put Rio in her arms.

  Rio wailed, sudden and startling, and Lawrence got up, heading to the door. “Does he have any bottles?”

  “No,” Ty murmured, glancing at Myrtle again.

  “I’ll be back,” Lawrence said, then strode into the hall.

  “Take your time,” Myrtle murmured. A silence fell over the room. Ty peered at Myrtle a couple of times, before she finally cracked open an eye, catching him. “Tydeus,” she said.

  He glanced back at her. She leaned heavily on her hand, heaving a huge breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

  His brows knit together. “What for?”

  “You were right. You can’t just force people together. I know my grandson, and how he looks at you …”

  Her lips trembled; her eyes were glossy. “Well,” she said finally, “I didn’t want him to make the same mistakes I did. I thought I was helping, but I’ve made a terrible mess of things.” She glanced down at her lap. “I’d ask if you can forgive an old fool, but I don’t think you should.”

  Ty felt his shoulders sink. “Myrtle, I … I can’t forgive you. I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

  A small smile curved around her lips. “I suppose you’re right again.” She paused. “Can you tell him for me?”

  Ty blinked. “What? No, you need to—”

  She shook her head. Ty stared at her. “He’s coming right back, he’ll be right back—”

  But she merely settled back in her chair, her eyes falling shut, as though she were asleep.

  Lawrence wandered back in a moment later, Rio happily feasting on a new bottle. Lawrence looked at Ty, then at Myrtle. “Are you okay with him?” he asked.

  Ty took the baby from Lawrence wordlessly. Rio didn’t even seem to notice, he was that intent on the bottle.

  “I’ll take her back,” Lawrence said, then paused. “She’s fallen asleep.”

  Ty glanced at Myrtle again, looking for the rise and fall of her chest. He looked back at Rio. “Yeah,” he agreed.

  Lawrence lifted Myrtle back into the wheelchair—she seemed so fragile in his arms. Then he wheeled her out of the room. Ty bowed his head, closed his eyes. Rio finished up with the bottle a moment or two later.

  It seemed like hours before Lawrence came back, eyes red-rimmed and face wan. His smile was washed out, like the winter sky beyond the window. He perched himself in the chair gingerly, glancing over his shoulder like he expected someone to chase him.

  “Visitation’s Tuesday at two.”

  Epilogue

  The roar of the room seemed to die away, a hush falling. Through it came the rhythmic clanging of a fork against crystal. Ty inhaled, then looked back at the mirror. He fussed with his tie again.

  Stupid thing hadn’t wanted to knot properly since he’d gotten it pressed.

  Mom batted his hands away from his collar. “Will you stop?” she hissed. “It’s going to be fine.”

  He glared at her. “You play the viola,” she huffed, “nobody will even see your tie.”

  He continued to glare at her as he grabbed the instrument by the neck, fingers clamping around the strings to keep them silent. He brandished the bow at her, and she rolled her eyes.

  “I can’t help it,” he huffed, “I’m nervous.”

  “You’ll do fine.” She licked her finger and tried to smooth down one of his spikes—it sprang up again the moment she pulled away. There was honestly no taming his hair.

  “And now, a few words from our new president and chief executive officer, Mr. Lawrence Trafford!”

  “Good evening,” Lawrence boomed into the mic, his voice carrying through the enormous banquet hall. The hush became even more prominent; Ty imagined the eyes of the dinner guests pinned to Lawrence as he paced the stage, announcing the plans for the new research center on Piscea.

  Ty felt sick just thinking about standing out there, all those people looking at him—politicians, donors, the richest of the rich, all of them in fancy dress and looking to Lawrence expectantly.

  God, Ty didn’t know how he did it. He was just going to go out there and play for fifteen minutes during the in-memoriam for Myrtle. Lawrence had to give a speech and convince them that his vision of an intergalactic research station on Piscea was both wise and a good use of money.

  Ty knew he couldn’t have hacked it.

  “I fully believe this is something Myrtle Trafford would have approved of,” Lawrence continued. “To further education, to learn more about the universe … and to do so with the cooperation not just of Piscea, but all the peoples of our universe. That is a vision worthy of Myrtle Trafford’s legacy.”

  Ty closed his eyes. A hand touched his cheek; he glanced down at Rio, who was in Dad’s arms. Rio looked up at him expectantly, babbled a little as he stroked his hand across Ty’s cheek clumsily.

  “Yes,” Dad said, “that’s Mummy. Doesn’t he look silly?”

  “Adadadmoooo waha,” Rio said, then stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry, giggling.

  “Mmhmm,” Dad said, then smiled broadly at Ty.

  “And that’s part of the reason we’re here tonight, to honor the legacy of Myrtle Trafford. Myrtle has been gone for a year now, but her spirit is still very much with us—all of us, and continues to provide guidance for this company as we learn and grow.”

  “Oooo,” Rio said, looking toward the curtain that separated them from the stage. “Wawawa.”

  “Oh, do you hear Dada?” Dad bounced him a little.

  “Awa,” Rio replied, then smacked Ty’s cheek and laughed.

  “God, you’re abusive,” Ty muttered.

  “Wa!” Rio cried.

  “Please welcome to the stage the String Quartet of the New Martia Symphony Orchestra.”

  Ty heaved, then rolled his eyes skyward. The other three players marched by him, and he brought up the tail end of the procession. The harsh light of the spotlight nearly blinded him as they settled into a crescent moon formation. The applause of the room died away slowly; the first few notes of the cellist, the violinist, the bassist rang through the room.

  Then there was silence. The four of them glanced at each other, bows poised and at the ready. They hesitated a split-second, then let the strings
sing.

  Ty relished the bite of the strings into the pads of his fingers, the press of the viola against his neck. He closed his eyes as he sank deeper into the music, allowing himself to drift away on the symphony of sound, like the steady motion of an ocean meeting the shore—the rise and fall, the crest of each note, each movement a wave that moved them along.

  Tomorrow, he and Lawrence were embarking for Piscea to oversee the first year of operation for the research center. They’d dedicate it to Myrtle as one of the first acts when they arrived.

  Nervousness tied knots in Ty’s stomach when he thought about it, left him breathless. They were going to Piscea for a year. They were leaving New Martia, their friends, their families—this entire fucking solar system, this galaxy—for a year.

  But duty called to Lawrence. The center was a partnership between four peoples—Piscea had provided the land; Earth had provided the funding. Taurea was sending the lab equipment, and Thestia was sending their best researchers. It was as much about building relationships as it was about unlocking the secrets of the universe.

  Lawrence had to see it through. The memory of Myrtle held him duty-bound.

  And Ty would be damned before he let Lawrence leave him. He’d follow the man across the universe if he had to.

  Long after the last notes had faded away, after the lights had been dimmed and the dinner dishes cleared, Lawrence stepped backstage. He glanced over his shoulder; he was illuminated briefly before the curtains swung shut. He turned to Ty. He leaned over and kissed Rio’s forehead, even as the baby slept against Ty’s shoulder.

  “Ready to get out of here?” He smiled broadly and squeezed Ty’s hand.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ty muttered, squeezing back.

  “Hey, fishy?”

  “Yeah?”

  Lawrence paused for a long moment, considering. Then he said, “You’re my best friend.”

  Ty lifted a brow. Lawrence took a quick little breath, then added, “I love you.”

  Ty snorted, ducked his head to hide the smile growing on his own face. “Love you too, best friend. Now help me get Sleeping Beauty to the hover without waking him up.”