Grill Me, Baby
“She had cleaned out the big steel birdcage and was feeding Baby his favorite treats of nuts and mixed berries. “Gracias, Mamacita, qué buena estás,” Baby crowed in Spanish from his perch on Michaela’s arm. Michaela rolled her eyes at the bird telling her she was hot—thanks to Manny, Aunt Willow’s on-again-off-again lover. Manny, a Cuban-American firefighter with a snake tattoo on his thick biceps, had taught Baby all the politically incorrect innuendos in his bird vocabulary. And Baby knew precisely when to use them.“You’re welcome, Baby,” Michaela replied. On this gloriously warm and balmy April day, she should have been feeling relaxed, but every time she chatted with Baby her thoughts drifted to another baby—Michael. Right about now, he was probably getting adjusted to his new home and bonding with his mommy and uncle. Ever since she had held him in her arms briefly after Claudia had given birth, Michaela yearned to hold his tiny body again—just for a little while.She glanced at her watch.
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