Her Name Is Trouble: A small-town contemporary romance (The Daimsbury Chronicles Book 2) by Zee Monodee
Authors: Zee Monodee
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amounted to a small problem like a lost scrunchie or something.
But Ryan here? Not his cup of tea. He loved kids, but when they were kids, not babies. Ryan must’ve sensed his handler’s discomfort, because his face started growing red. Before long, a hearty wail would pour out from that deceptively tiny body. Panic gripped Luke. What to do? What did babies like?
He stood and started rocking the infant like he’d seen Liam do. But that seemed to have no effect. The dams would burst in another few seconds.
A lullaby. Except he knew none. A song should work the same, though. So he started singing...and the Goofy Goober tune from SpongeBob came out. Ryan seemed to calm down at the sound of his voice, tuneless as it might be, and he watched Luke with big, eager violet eyes.
When the baby graced him with a smile, he wanted to whoop in victory and pump his fist in the air.
“Ah, mate. You’re corrupting my son.” Liam came in and extricated the baby from Luke’s arms. “With Andie already making him listen to One Direction, I don’t need you to further damage him.”
Luke sat back down. “It’s just SpongeBob .”
“Exactly what has me worried.” Liam rubbed the tip of his nose against the baby’s. “My lad’s gonna be a real Red Devil like his daddy, eh?”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you he might not like Manchester United? Or even football?”
“Sacrilege, brother!”
His sibling was really starting to get on his nerves. Ever since yesterday’s afternoon, he’d been functioning with a very short temper. “Guess what? He smiled at me when I was singing the SpongeBob song.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Liam stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Must’ve been gas.”
“Suit yourself.” He reached for one of Ryan’s tiny feet and rubbed his finger along the toes. “Seriously, though. What if he’s not into the same thing as you are?”
Liam’s face grew sombre. “Whatever he, or Andie, decides to do, I’m hundred percent behind them, man. That’s your role as a parent, to be there for them. Not to dictate their life.”
Ryan’s small face scrunched into a frown, and seconds later, a loud fart resounded in the room, followed by the smell of an obvious dirty nappy. Liam got up to go change the baby, leaving Luke alone in the front room.
He shook his head and chuckled when he thought back to singing the Goofy Goober song to Ryan. What would people not do to make others feel good?
Another thought crashed through in the wake of that question.
How far did some people go to even feel anything at all?
Missy’s confession of self-mutilation to get over the numbness of her life crowded his mind, and though he tried to shake the memory out of his head, he just couldn’t.
Other things she had said rolled in.
My life wasn’t my own.
Like a pretty Christmas bauble, discarded when not needed.
What Liam had said just before leaving the room rang inside his mind. Parents were there to shape their children into the kids’ own potential.
Not into their own image.
Snippets of remembrances he’d thought long forgotten materialized in his consciousness again. The night he’d met Iris Ann. They’d been talking on the terrace, and her mother had glided over to them and with a gesture that had looked like a gentle caress to him at the time, had in fact made her daughter correct the alignment of her head with her spine, because Iris Ann had tilted her head to the side while talking to him.
Exactly like Missy did...
And then he remembered finding her sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin in a dark corner on the pier.
“What are you doing here?” he’d asked.
“Escaping,” she’d said with a smile. “I bowed out of that stifling thing with a pretend migraine.” She’d shrugged. “Not supposed to be here, this close to the water. My mother will kill me for the frizz the humidity will cause to my hair.”
They’d spent the next few hours there,
But Ryan here? Not his cup of tea. He loved kids, but when they were kids, not babies. Ryan must’ve sensed his handler’s discomfort, because his face started growing red. Before long, a hearty wail would pour out from that deceptively tiny body. Panic gripped Luke. What to do? What did babies like?
He stood and started rocking the infant like he’d seen Liam do. But that seemed to have no effect. The dams would burst in another few seconds.
A lullaby. Except he knew none. A song should work the same, though. So he started singing...and the Goofy Goober tune from SpongeBob came out. Ryan seemed to calm down at the sound of his voice, tuneless as it might be, and he watched Luke with big, eager violet eyes.
When the baby graced him with a smile, he wanted to whoop in victory and pump his fist in the air.
“Ah, mate. You’re corrupting my son.” Liam came in and extricated the baby from Luke’s arms. “With Andie already making him listen to One Direction, I don’t need you to further damage him.”
Luke sat back down. “It’s just SpongeBob .”
“Exactly what has me worried.” Liam rubbed the tip of his nose against the baby’s. “My lad’s gonna be a real Red Devil like his daddy, eh?”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you he might not like Manchester United? Or even football?”
“Sacrilege, brother!”
His sibling was really starting to get on his nerves. Ever since yesterday’s afternoon, he’d been functioning with a very short temper. “Guess what? He smiled at me when I was singing the SpongeBob song.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Liam stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Must’ve been gas.”
“Suit yourself.” He reached for one of Ryan’s tiny feet and rubbed his finger along the toes. “Seriously, though. What if he’s not into the same thing as you are?”
Liam’s face grew sombre. “Whatever he, or Andie, decides to do, I’m hundred percent behind them, man. That’s your role as a parent, to be there for them. Not to dictate their life.”
Ryan’s small face scrunched into a frown, and seconds later, a loud fart resounded in the room, followed by the smell of an obvious dirty nappy. Liam got up to go change the baby, leaving Luke alone in the front room.
He shook his head and chuckled when he thought back to singing the Goofy Goober song to Ryan. What would people not do to make others feel good?
Another thought crashed through in the wake of that question.
How far did some people go to even feel anything at all?
Missy’s confession of self-mutilation to get over the numbness of her life crowded his mind, and though he tried to shake the memory out of his head, he just couldn’t.
Other things she had said rolled in.
My life wasn’t my own.
Like a pretty Christmas bauble, discarded when not needed.
What Liam had said just before leaving the room rang inside his mind. Parents were there to shape their children into the kids’ own potential.
Not into their own image.
Snippets of remembrances he’d thought long forgotten materialized in his consciousness again. The night he’d met Iris Ann. They’d been talking on the terrace, and her mother had glided over to them and with a gesture that had looked like a gentle caress to him at the time, had in fact made her daughter correct the alignment of her head with her spine, because Iris Ann had tilted her head to the side while talking to him.
Exactly like Missy did...
And then he remembered finding her sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin in a dark corner on the pier.
“What are you doing here?” he’d asked.
“Escaping,” she’d said with a smile. “I bowed out of that stifling thing with a pretend migraine.” She’d shrugged. “Not supposed to be here, this close to the water. My mother will kill me for the frizz the humidity will cause to my hair.”
They’d spent the next few hours there,
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