“She screamed for an hour straight when I tried to give her a bath the first night I had her.” His voice hitches in that way that does complicated things to my chest. “I thought I’d broken her.”
“You aren’t going to break anything. I’m sure she was scaredand confused.” I take a sip of juice. “You’ve done an amazing job with her, Felix. Really.”
He looks away, his jaw working like he’s physically holding back his response. The moment stretches between us, taut with all the things neither of us is willing to say.
“Fee! Fee!” Ellie’s voice crackles through the monitor, followed by a delighted giggle. “Pi!”
“Duty calls,” I say, grateful for the interruption before I blurt out that watching him take care of Ellie makes me want things I shouldn’t. Things like having him be a father to our baby. But I’m going to have to tell him the truth soon.
“I’ll get her,” Felix says, already heading for the stairs. “You need to eat more. Protein ideally. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Yes, Dad,” I call after him.
“That’s Zaddy to you,” he answers with a low chuckle, and there go my ovaries again, cheering like we’re at the Super Bowl and Felix has just caught the winning touchdown.
By the time he comes down with Ellie, who’s wearing her donut pajamas, hair sticking up in a way that oddly mirrors Felix’s, I’ve managed to pull myself together. Mostly.
“Pi!” Ellie reaches for me, and after sliding the eggs I’ve scrambled onto a plate, I take her, settling her on my hip. She smells like sleep and lavender shampoo, and my heart does that stupid squeeze it’s been doing lately whenever I hold her.
This is what it could be like, I think. Me and Felix and Ellie and a baby. Except he doesn’t want to be a father, and I haven’t told him, and?—
“You okay?” Felix asks, studying my face with concern. “You’re pale again.”
“Fine. I need some protein, like you said. Ellie and I are sharing the eggs.” She’s going to eat them all, because pregnant me still thinks eggs are disgusting. But I’m not mentioning that to him. I kiss the top of her head, using her as a shield against his scrutiny asI place her in the booster seat Felix had delivered. “What’s your plan for today?”
“Tyler’s coming over this afternoon for leg day.” He pulls out ingredients for what looks like an elaborate smoothie. “I was thinking this morning we could take Ellie to a playground like you talked about with Ty. I looked online, and there’s one near Vail Village that has bucket swings and a sandbox.”
“Swing,” Ellie agrees, then shoves a bite of egg into her mouth.
“You want to go to a public playground?” I raise an eyebrow. “What about flying under the radar?”
“I’ll wear a hat.”
“Yeah, because that’s going to keep people from recognizing you.”
“I doubt the playground will be popping with rabid football fans.” He dumps a few fresh blueberries onto Ellie’s plate. “She needs to see more than just this house, and honestly, so do I. Plus, you could use some fresh air in a way that doesn’t involve fainting on mountain trails.”
“One time, Felix.”
“Once is enough.” He cocks a thick brow. “You up for a field trip?”
I should say no. I need to maintain distance and boundaries and all the things that went out the window when I agreed to be his nanny. But Ellie gives me a heart-melting grin as she ignores the eggs to shove blueberries into her mouth, while Felix is looking at me with as much hope as a golden retriever bestows on the treat jar, and I’m apparently incapable of denying either of them anything.
“Sure,” I agree. “But maybe skip the Grizzlies merch. And you’re on sandbox and swing duty. I’m claiming a bench.”
“Deal.”
Two hours later, I’m sitting on said bench, watching Felix push Ellie on the baby swings, and my heart is flinging itself against my ribcage like it wants in on theaction.
He’s wearing a CU Buffaloes cap pulled low, aviator sunglasses, and a plain gray T-shirt that does nothing to hide the way he’s built. Every time he pushes Ellie, she shrieks with joy. His laugh, deep and genuine, makes my heart go even more haywire.
“Higher, Fee! Higher!”
“That’s as high as we go, munchkin,” he tells her, grinning as widely as the toddler. “Don’t want you flying to the moon.”
“Moon!” she shouts, her arms shooting into the sky like she’s riding a roller coaster.
As Felix predicted, we have the playground to ourselves for most of the visit. After a while, a mom pushing a stroller as she follows two rambunctious older boys stops near the edge of the rubber mulch. She smiles at me, then does a double-take when her gaze lands on Felix. At first, I chalk it up to the typical reaction people have to a man of his size. I don’t know much about pheromones, but I’d bet money Felix emits them in tsunami-sized waves.
