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Chapter Ten

Indya

"So, you know you still haven't buzzed him in yet, right?" The color drains from my face, please tell me I just misheard what she said. I meet Amara's eyes; I can see the excitement mixed in with the worry. I think back to what I was saying, fuck me, I admitted that I liked him, well, more than I think he realized. I am so embarrassed. I cannot believe that I did not realize her finger was still on the speaker box.

"It's okay to like him more than a little, Indya. You've told me he's unlike anyone you've ever met, and that's a good thing. I don't think he'll bring it up when he gets here. He seems too kind and into you for that," Amara says, trying to comfort me before Atlas arrives.

Why at door, mama? Haven asks, her big eyes full of curiosity.

Oh no. I just realized I'm not going to have time to be embarrassed. I'm going to be anything but embarrassed. Atlas thinks he's coming to dinner just to meet Amara, but I wanted to introduce him to both Amara and Haven. I'm not sure how he's going to react to me having a four-year-old child, but I hope he understands why I waited so long to tell him.

Remember when I told you I wanted you to meet my friend Atlas? We just buzzed him up, so he should be knocking any moment. Are you excited to meet a new friend?

I've always promised myself to be honest with Haven about everything. When I mentioned meeting someone, the first thing she asked was, "Is he your prince?" I laughed, shaking my head, and then attacked her little belly with tickles. Haven squirmed all over, her smile lighting up the room. What really pulls at my heartstrings are the slight noises she makes when she laughs hard. It's not like a typical laugh; it's deep and husky, warming and comforting.

The first time I heard her laugh, I cried for hours, on and off. Not every child born deaf and mute makes sounds when laughing. You can see the joy on their faces and their shoulders bouncing, but no sound. Haven's laugh is my absolute, all-time favorite sound in the world.

Haven nods, bouncing on her little toes. She's petite for her age, and though she's healthy, her doctor says she's in the lower percentile for weight and height. But she's exactly where she needs to be intellectually, physically, and emotionally. She's just petite.

The knocks echo through the apartment, each one sending a jolt straight to my heart. My pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and nerves. I glance at Amara, who gives me a reassuring smile before opening the door.

And there he is, all six-foot-two of him, standing in the doorway like a dream come to life. Lord have mercy, he's a beautiful man. His dark hair falls perfectly, framing his jade green eyes that seem to pierce right through me. Those dimples, oh those dimples, they do something to my body, mind, and soul that I can't control.

Our eyes meet—his green to my light blue—and it's like an electric current surges through me. My breath catches, and I feel a warmth spread from my chest to the tips of my fingers. He's not even touching me, yet I feel him everywhere, as if his presence alone is enough to set my entire being alight.

Amara introduces herself while signing, and Atlas tilts his head, unsure why she's signing and talking simultaneously. She welcomes him into our home, closing the door behind them. Atlas introduces himself to Amara, saying he's heard so much about her that he feels like he's known her for years.

Atlas's eyes leave mine only for a moment during the introductions. Once the pleasantries are over, his gaze returns, the warmth of his stare running through me. Then he looks next to me, his eyes widening. He hasn't even said hello to me yet, and now he looks shocked, as if he might pass out. Amara stands on the other side of Haven, nestling her safely between us, as always.

When I decide to speak, I do so without signing, just in case he doesn't take my having a daughter well and wants to flee. I don't want Haven thinking he's something he's not. "Atlas, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Haven. She's four years old and my entire world. Amara already introduced herself, so no need for me to do it again. I invited you over for dinner to meet my family. This half of it, anyway. You know I have a brother and two sisters, but I wanted you to meet my heart and soul before we take our relationship deeper. I'll completely understand if this isn't something you want to be a part of. I won't be upset if you tell me this isn't what you want right now. I understand. I want you to know we sign and speak when Haven is in the room so she can join in if she likes. We want her to feel included in every aspect of our lives, as any mother would want for their child. I'd love for you to stay and have dinner with us as planned, to get to know Haven and Amara, because you can't have me without them." I give him a moment to let my words sink in, giving him a chance to decide for himself.

Atlas stares at Haven, taking her in from her curly hair to her pink-polished tiny toes. I glance at Haven to see how she's handling his stare, and she seems to be giving him the same lookover. Her head tilts up due to their height difference, her eyes focused on everything from his hair to his black leather Chelsea boots. Once her appraisal is complete, she looks at me and says, This him?

I can't help but laugh at the way she asks. I love seeing Amara's influence in Haven's personality as she grows. It means she won't take any nonsense from anyone and won't be afraid to stand up for herself and her beliefs. I won the lottery with Amara as my best friend; there's no one else like her in the world.

I look from Amara to Haven, then to Atlas, taking a deep, purifying breath. I start the introduction between my daughter and Atlas, speaking as I sign, just as I told him I would. "Atlas, this is my four-year-old daughter, Haven. Haven, this is my friend I was telling you about, Atlas."

Amara watches the interaction, ready to defend Haven if needed. What happens next blows my mind. I even hear Amara gasp, and she's not the gasping type. Atlas bends down on his knees so Haven doesn't have to stretch her neck to look up at him. I see him swallow hard, then he lifts his hands, shakily.

Good meet you, Haven. Hope to know you. You, me, friends.

My eyes tear up because even though he didn't sign the sentences he was speaking completely; he still signed and spoke at the same time.

When I look at Amara, her hand is covering her mouth, her eyes wide and glossy, and I am not certain she is breathing. I look at Haven, and she is smiling so brightly, my entire being instantly warms. My blue eyes find the green ones that seem to be connected by an invisible thread, his smile is so big, those deep, delicious dimples are more prominent than I have yet to see, he now understands why I was teaching him ASL.

Years from now when I look back on this moment, I can honestly say, it was this moment I knew I was in love with him, and that scared the shit out of me.

While I was finishing up dinner, Amara and Haven kept Atlas entertained, probably more than any of us bargained for. Haven, Amara, and Atlas are all sitting around the huge coffee table in front of the sectional, making bracelets. Amara is translating for Haven, since she signs and translates faster than Atlas, since he is still new to sign language and translating other people's signs—Atlas is still using the words he knows as he responds to them.

Amara starts laughing, and I can hear Atlas mumbling about "trying his best" as I walk toward the living to see what all the fuss is about.

"Indya, you are not going to believe what Haven told Atlas," Amara says as soon as I step into the living room.

At this moment, I am both scared and anxious to know what came out of my four-year-olds mouth. These days it could have been anything. Amara and I like to joke that she is four going on forty, from her personality and the little things she does and even the things she asks to try out.

A couple weeks ago she asked me if I would teach her to knit a sweater. I had to get online and watch a bunch of videos to learn how, because I will be damned if Haven wants to learn something new, that I will be the one to stop her from being the best damn knitter in town. I look at Atlas and I swear I see some pink staining his cheeks, which makes me fall a little more. Then Amara begins telling me what was happening.

Haven was telling Atlas how this is what people who are friends do, make bracelets. She said it is how they go from friends to best friends. Then Atlas here says he would be honored to be her friend and eventually best friend by making bracelets with her. Then randomly, Haven stops creating and looks Atlas deep in his eyes and says, ‘I hope I get better at my sentences, facial emotions, and body language soon, because if this is how Aunt Mar and mama feels when I am talking to them, I feel bad, because it is exhausting trying to understand what you are saying with a bunch of words missing.' That's not it, she paused for effect, then said, ‘but you do okay for a boy who is just starting out, but you should definitely practice more.'

Now it is my face that is turning dark shades of pink, I am so embarrassed. I look at Atlas, worried her little mouth ruined whatever it is happening between us. When I look at him, I see that he is watching Haven, the entire time Amara is telling me about the conversation they had, his eyes are on her. He looks at her like she is the most interesting person he has ever met and wants to know more about her, willing to take the unapologetic comments and remarks she gives him.

I look to Haven, but she is locked into a staring contest with Atlas, so I head to the light switch, flipping it on and off a couple times, her eyes meet mine quickly.

Haven, you shouldn't say things like that to people. It could hurt their feelings, especially when they are trying so hard to learn and remember everything that was taught to them. Do you remember when we practice our facial expressions for certain words and how we want others to know how we are feeling with those words?

I feel a little bad reprimanding her in front of Atlas, but I don't want him to think that we let her speak to anyone however she wants. She is learning manners, and what is and isn't acceptable to people she doesn't know or know well. I know that she didn't say it to hurt his feelings or to downplay the hard work he has put into what he does know in ASL. Her eyes are starting to gloss over, because no matter how outspoken and ballsy she is, she is still a little girl, and one that is sensitive when it comes to others' emotions and feelings.

I sorry, Atlas. I no mean to hurt your feelings. It's hard to know what you say sometimes, signs gone. I still learning, like you. Please, forgive me. I sorry. You still want be my friend? No friend, cause I mean?

My heart hurts for her, knowing she didn't mean it the way it came across. But before Atlas can respond, I walk over and sit on the floor between him and Haven.

That was very nice of you to apologize, Haven. I am so proud of you for doing that on your own, and not because Aunt Mar or I told you to. I am not upset with you, and you are not in trouble. This is just me teaching you, just like with signs, facial expressions, body language, and learning to look for Aunt Mar or I when we flicker the light. I understand that you were telling him that you feel bad because signing a lot of words at the same time is hard for you because you are still learning, just like Atlas is still learning. I know you did not intentionally want to hurt his feelings or make him feel as though he was not working hard at each sign and what it means. Putting all the signs of different words to make a sentence is hard work and takes time and practice. So, from now on, just think, would it hurt your feelings if someone said that to you. If your answer is yes, it would hurt my feelings, then there is a great chance you should not say it to someone else, especially someone you just met. Do you understand what I am trying to say, what I am trying to teach you?

She nods her head, curls bouncing all over the place, inhaling deeply. I turn to look at Atlas, and he has a weird look on his face, one I haven't seen before. If I focus on the emotion and expression only, not those sexy dimples or his exotic green eyes, it almost looks like awe, mixed in with a touch of admiration and a sense of wonder. His smile is so big, and he is staring right at me. My heart is pounding, I feel like it is about to beat out of my chest and onto the coffee table. I break eye contact and give my attention back to Haven, and she lifts her little hands from the bracelet she was still working on.

We practice together? Me and Atlas?

I let her know that he is at work when the two of us practice and explained that sometimes he will be out of town for baseball games. That he is very busy this time of year because of his work. But when Atlas is available and wants to, I promise her he is more than welcome to join us anytime. She seems to accept my answer, now she moved on to Atlas.

You hear mama, Atlas. You practice with me, when you no work. Deal?

Deal, princess.

Haven's eyes widen at the nickname he has given her, as do mine. I haven't told him anything about Haven the entire time we have been seeing each other, so for him to call her princess out of all the names he could have called her, has shocked the both of us.

How you know? You my prince? Mama's prince? Our prince? You make me and mama smile big. I like you. We friends now. Here.

She pushes the bracelet she has finished toward him, not giving him a chance to refuse her gift or her friendship, not even to answer her questions. He stretches his left arm before me, and I tie the colorful strings tight. Once I am satisfied that it isn't going to come untied, I turn his wrist to see what she has added to the multicolored strings.

She added a charm with two baseball bats set in a triangle, a baseball nestled in the open space between the bats, hugging the thick thread. Next to that is a red heart on a white bead, and on the other side, a charm displaying the sign for "I love you."

I remove my hand from his wrist and turn away, not wanting them to see the emotions welling up inside me. The significance of the evening, the gestures, and the connections made are overwhelming. I hear Atlas clear his throat and Amara sniffle. When I turn to look at her, she too is facing away, her hand covering her mouth, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

I'm honored, Haven. Never take it off. Promise. Swear on baseball.

Amara and I laugh at the last part, he seems to always know what to say to make any highly emotional situation, more at ease. I stare into his eyes hoping he can see everything that I am feeling for him, just as I can see everything through him. Haven shocks us all by jumping up and running to hug Atlas around the neck, her little arms squeezing so tight, and he wraps his big ones around her little body in a protective way, in a loving way, it brings the waterworks again.

Fucking hell, this was not supposed to be an emotional evening, it was supposed to be laid back and fun. We ended up not going to the pond to feed the ducks, deciding to stay in and watch a movie and eat ice cream, which was fine by me.

Amara carried a sleeping Haven to her room, as I walked Atlas to the door to say goodnight. It was so sweet to watch him lay his lips on my daughter's head of curls, whispering, good night, princess, even though she could not hear his tender words, she let out a sigh, as though she had.

Atlas and I stand by the door, neither of us ready to say goodnight. He had mentioned earlier that he needed to be at the clubhouse by four in the morning for the next leg of away games. It's now 11:45, and I hope he doesn't miss his alarm. Still, he doesn't seem bothered by staying here a bit longer.

"I had a great time tonight, Indya. Even though you shocked the hell out of me by introducing me to your daughter, I quickly understood why you did it. She's an amazing little girl, and that's because of you. You're a phenomenal mother, friend—girlfriend. You're just an all-around amazing woman, and I'm grateful you let me be in your presence," Atlas says, his voice low and growly, making him even sexier.

"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed meeting my family. I think when you meet my siblings, you and Silas will become instant best friends. You're so much alike, it's ridiculous. It's nice to hear someone besides my sibling and best friend tell me I'm doing right by her. Some days, I question everything when it comes to her." I lean against the wall, dreading his departure because we won't see each other for eleven days. So, yeah, I'm procrastinating, making him stay longer than he planned.

"I meant what I told Haven earlier when she gave me the bracelet. I'm never taking it off, and if it comes off, I'll be back for a new one. This is the best accessory I've ever owned. I think our friendship bracelets rank right up there with my Shelby," he says, laughing and shaking his head, like he can't believe he's comparing a thread bracelet to a car worth more than I'll ever make in my lifetime.

"You don't have to wear it all the time, or at all. Haven won't be offended if you don't wear it daily. She makes me bracelets all the time now. I explained to her that I'll wear them on special occasions because none of them match my clothing. But I'm grateful you're happy to appease her for now." I shrug, not wanting him to feel obligated to wear something made by a four-year-old girl he just met, though he doesn't seem to be joking when he says he's never taking it off. I reach for the door, and his hand lands on mine. The current that runs through me makes me feel like I'm in another world. I remove my hand from his so I can think clearly and tell him goodnight, wishing him a safe trip and to win all the games. He walks out the door, and I softly close it behind him.

I tidy the living room from our movie night. As I place the last glass in the sink, I hear tapping at the door. It worries me because it can't be Atlas; he left fifteen minutes ago. My brother and sisters would have called if they were coming over this late. Maybe it's someone from the building needing something, since you can't get in without being buzzed in, which was one of the main reasons we chose this apartment complex—the security.

We don't have a peephole, so I can't see who it is. I usually ask who it is from this side of the locked door, but something in my gut tells me to open it and see for myself.

I open the door to Atlas, and before I can ask why he's still here, how he got back in, or if he was just standing in the hall this entire time, he grabs me by the neck and pulls me toward him. One of his large hands holds my face while the other presses me closer to his body. Before I can even realize what's happening, his mouth is on mine.

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