“What?” Maisy blinked.
“The bullies of middle school will shove him into a locker, call him Grandpa, and demand he recite Shakespeare. It happened to me.”
“Because of your name?”
“Because I spent lunch periods correcting geometry quizzes for the teacher.” I glanced up. “But yes, also the name Archer. On the upside, kids named Mike and Brad asked me for investment advice by senior year.”
“And where were you, not defending your brother?” She grinned at her husband.
“I was probably stuffed into my locker by the same kids. We were among the smaller guys back then, hadn’t hit our growthspurt.” Brooks fluffed the pillow behind her. “Don’t worry. We’ll enroll Everett in a school with no lockers and teach him to throw a punch.”
“Look at you two—already solving problems he doesn’t know he has.” My voice came out lighter than the weight in my chest. It was the Bellamy way. Banter as a flotation device.
A knock sounded before the door opened and Lila popped her head in. “Hello. Ready for us?” She whispered. Their twenty-something nanny slipped inside, holding the hand of a tiny girl in pink and white polka-dot leggings and dress, with lopsided pigtails.
“Come here, Wren.” Brooks’ grin broke out wide on his face. He’d been a total girl-dad until now.
Wren barreled toward the bed on legs that hadn’t yet learned to be careful. “Mama,” she breathed, eyes huge as planets. “Baby?”
Maisy held out her arms, and I reluctantly handed Everett back, every cell in my body protesting like I’d just given up the winning hand.
“Come closer and meet your brother Everett, sweetie,” she urged.
Brooks swooped Wren up and lathered her with kisses, then placed her carefully next to Maisy. She peered at the bundle. “Huggie?”
“No, Huggie is our cat,” Brooks said.
“Does she think a kitten was in Maisy’s tummy this whole time?” I chuckled.
Wren gently touched the edge of the blanket, then leaned over right into his face and shouted, “Baby.”
The baby woke up and farted, startling Wren almost off the bed. The room swelled with laughter and family sweetness and the invisible cords that tie one heartbeat to another.
It was suddenly too much. Their joy was like a mirror held up to my life, reflecting the empty side of my bed, the years of wasted chances and wrong turns and women who wanted my Bellamy penthouse more than the man in it.
I made a show of checking my watch. “Oh, look at the time. I should go. The office will crumble without me.”
Brooks squinted. “It’s Friday night.”
“So?” I lifted a shoulder, bright and breezy and fake, like it was totally natural for a man like me to be married to his business. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”
Maisy’s brows shot up. “We just want to see you happy, Archer.”
“I am happy. I have a business that wouldn’t survive without me, all the money in the world, and, as a bonus, I don’t have to change diapers or chase a toddler around the house who hides the remote control.” I made a show of rolling my eyes at them.
“We mean, happy with someone by your side. Maybe try that millionaire matching service again?” Maisy had been itching to see me settle down. But the last time I trusted a woman, it hit me both in the heart and the pocketbook in equal measure.
Brianne—the ghost of girlfriends past—and everything she did to me still haunted me to this day.
I looked to Brooks, who offered me no help in getting out of this conversation.
“And on that note, I’m out of here. Congratulations.” I leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the top of Maisy’s head, ignoring her suggestion to use the app. Then I gave Wren’s nose a boop, and clapped my palm to Brooks’ shoulder. “You did good, big guy.”
“We sure did,” he said with an approving eye to his wife. I made a quick escape before what was in his voice sent me into a total breakdown.
The hallway smelled like disinfecting dream-killer. I walked it fast, suddenly all elbows and angles, a man too tall for his own life. The elevator doors stayed open long enough for me to slide in, and I took the car down to the parking garage.
Fuck my life.
