Eternal Longing ✓

11. Bartons

FINLEY

Perhaps moving to New York was a mistake after all.

"Uncle Fin! Uncle Fin! Uncle Fin! Count to one hundred!" Cameron yells excitedly, his three-year-old voice a loud screech.

Shaking my head with an exasperated sigh, I ask, "Again? I just finished counting, bud."

"No!" He slaps my thigh indignantly. "Count!"

Poking his tiny belly with my index finger, I shake my head once more. "No. You count, bud."

A fit of laughter drowns his demands so I keep poking him gently until he's writhing on the floor and begging for mercy.

"Uncle Fin! Uncle Fin! Stop! Stop! Tickles!"

"No can do, bud." I keep poking him, picking him up with one arm and tickling him with the other one. "Tickles make you less demanding."

He keeps laughing and attempts to kick me as I walk us toward his mom who stands at the stove with a smile on her face.

"There are my boys." She smiles brighter at the sight of her suffering son, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Was just about to call you two for lunch!"

Giving her a look that tells her to not cry for the second time since I got here, I stop messing with my nephew and both of us perk up at the prospect of food.

"Lunch?" we both ask, then glare at the other as if our lines were stolen.

Eleanor laughs at us, then begins plating what looks to be her infamous pasta and sauce.

"I love mommy pasta!" I'm still holding Cam in my arms so I get that statement yelled in my ear.

Hiking him up on my shoulder so he can see his mom plating the pasta even better, I nod along to his words.

"I love your mom's pasta, too, bud." That gets a blinding smile from my sister. "I think it's probably the thing I missed the most when she moved out." Now that gets me a hit on the head with a spatula.

Not understanding much except for the fact that his mom hit me, Cameron giggles softly at my misery, then hits my head with his little palm.

"Ouch, that hurts." I feign pain and rub at my head. "I think I'm bleeding, bud."

Instead of the concern, I expect from him, the little shit nods in satisfaction and exclaims, "Good!"

His mother, the traitor, laughs at her son's lack of remorse and he follows suit.

"So you two are now conspiring against me, I see. What a way to treat a guest." I narrow my eyes at Eleanor. "And you wonder why I didn't come to visit as much."

Done plating our lunch, Eleanor rolls her eyes and sets two porcelain bowls on the kitchen island along with one blue plastic plate on a high chair.

I make my way towards it and plop Cameron in. "Stay seated and finish your food okay, bud?"

He nods dutifully with a grin that reminds me of mine at his age, then begins shoveling pasta into his mouth without the need of a fork.

I grab his signature blue bib from the counter and tie it around his neck before he can mess up all his clothes with pasta sauce. To annoy him a bit, I ruffle his blonde hair.

"Stop, Uncle Fin!" he snaps at me with a glare. "You mess up my hair."

Chuckling at this little child that is a replica of myself when I was three, I ask him for forgiveness and adjust his hair back to his preferred style.