Relapse / / h.s.

Chapter Eighteen.

     I paced back and forth in front of the big window, singing quietly and bouncing up and down slightly in an attempt to get Grace to quiet down. Out of the two, Grace fussed the most. Oliver was generally quiet, only making the occasional squeak or hiccup, but it seemed like Grace wasn't quiet unless all of my attention was focused on her.

  I'd spent most of my time over  the last week at my mother's. I don't know what it was about the babies, but I couldn't get enough of them. They were adorable, both with their own unique personalities. And trust me, you never feel as important as you do when a baby falls asleep on your chest. It's the most precious thing in the entire world and I didn't even use words like precious.

   "You've been a big help," Anne smiled as she rocked Oliver in the chair. "Robyn had to go back to work immediately and I couldn't have done this on my own. Really Harry. Thank you."

  Grace hiccuped, her green eyes going wide. "It's no problem, mum. Stop thanking me."

  Anne beamed like she always did when I referred to her as "mum" instead of "Anne". I don't know why I'd preferred to call her mum lately, it just seemed right. She was my mum, after all, and our strained relationship had been too fragile for far too long. I promised her I'd try- and here was me trying.

  "I'm actually going to take off," I said quietly, placing a sleeping Grace in her empty crib. When it came to babies, there were a lot of things you could and couldn't do. For instance, you shouldn't have anything in the crib with them when they sleep and you're always supposed to lay them on their back. It was in some baby book Anne had let me take a look at. It all seemed like a lot.

   "So soon?" She wondered, holding a bottle up for a greedy Oliver.

  "I've been here for hours," I rolled my eyes. It was noon and since I'd had a few days off, I'd spent my mornings here.

  "I know," she chuckled. "But I was hoping you'd maybe want to stay for dinner."

  "Uh," I muttered, scratching at the back of my neck. "I actually have plans. With a friend. Or else I would."

  Her eyes went wide. "With a friend? Which friend?"

"Liam," I crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't think you've met him before."

She thought about that for a second, focusing more on the baby than me. "You're right, I haven't." She stopped to push Oliver's hair back. "Have fun."

---------------

The place was dead as usual. The only people inside were the people that were always here- day drinkers who had nothing better to do than sit around and drink all day. I guess I couldn't really be so judgmental. That was how I was choosing to spend my day, too. I wasn't any better than them. Soccer roared from the ancient television nailed to the wall, but no one was paying any attention to it.

"Harry," Mark stopped cleaning the wooden bar as soon as I took a seat in my stool. I don't know why he even bothered. The bar, like everything else in the place, was too old to look clean again. It was a miracle this place was even still open. I'd been here every night for the past week and he still greeted me the same way every single time. "The usual?"

"Make it two," I sighed, holding up two fingers. The smell of cigarette smoke was making me crazy with craving. I pulled the pack out of my back pocket and lit up, taking a drag just as Mark set two glasses down in front of me.

"That's bad for you, you know," Mark nodded at the cigarette between my lips. He started scrubbing the counter again with his dirty, old rag. "I quit a couple years ago. Hate it."