I take a step closer and automatically hold out my arms. I love babies, and although I know Felix is trying, his awkward attempts at soothing this one aren’t working.
“You’re not going to run off with her, right? You’re going to let me explain?”
“Jury’s still out and it better be a good one,” I say.
He hands over the girl with a relieved—and quite possibly exhausted—sigh. I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes downstairs, but this isn’t the high-energy, Tigger-coded Felix I know and don’t love.
“Who is she?” I ask as the little girl settles against me, warm and smelling like baby shampoo.
“Her name is Ellie. And since mid-May, I’ve been her legal guardian.”
I’m not sure I could stop my mouth from gaping open if I tried.
I shake my head.
“Who would leave you…”
I trail off before the rest of that sentence leaves my mouth. Since we met last summer, Felix and I have turned giving each other shit into an art form. But given the situation and the sweet little girl in my arms, what I was about to say feels too cruel, even for our toxic dynamic.
But I said enough. Felix knows the rest.
“Who would leave me a child when I’m the last person onearth who should be responsible for one?” The smile he flashes isn’t angry or defensive. It’s genuine, and so damn defeated.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine, Hart. For once we’re in complete agreement.” He chuckles softly, then grabs the carrying bag for what looks like a portable crib I hadn’t noticed resting against the wall.
“Are you okay holding her while I put this together? She wouldn’t let me set her down, and doing it one-handed is?—”
“Go ahead.” The weight of the child feels right in my arms, and I try not to think about how in a few months, I’ll be holding another baby. One with Felix’s blue eyes, maybe.
“Her dad was my best friend in college. We came in together in the same recruiting class. Troy Wallace.”
He looks at me almost expectantly, and I shrug as I sway back and forth, Ellie peacefully conked out against my shoulder.
“I don’t really follow football.”
“You wouldn’t know Troy. He was supposed to be the best defensive lineman the league has ever seen. But he took the ass end of a dirty hit midway through our senior year. Went down hard and broke his back.”
I flinch at the mental image, causing Ellie to stir. I adjust my hold, and she settles again. Felix watches us for a moment before returning to crib assembly.
I’d like to tell you I don’t notice his strong hands or the tattoos snaking up his arms or how capable and efficient his movements are. But I’m only human. And it appears my pregnancy hormones have decided that Felix Barlowe assembling baby furniture is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Awesome.
“It took a lot of rehab, but he walked again. Not a chance of him playing football after.”
He pauses before continuing, and I expect him to tell me how Troy got hooked on painkillers, and his life went off the railsfrom there.
“The wild part is, I don’t think he had any regrets.” Felix smiles, glancing at me, then back down at the crib. “He met Julie, his wife, because she was his physical therapist. She kicked his ass five ways to Sunday. Made him work for his recovery. He got his teaching certificate, then a job as a fourth-grade teacher at the local elementary school, and took over coaching high school football where they lived in Mississippi. He was happy. A lot happier than a lot of guys who have multimillion-dollar contracts but no one to really give a shit about them.”
I wonder if he’s talking about himself, but that’s none of my business, so I don’t ask. Although the hollow look in his eyes suggests maybe he is, and maybe I should.
“He was so damn happy when Julie got pregnant. They told me together after a game in Atlanta. Troy and I celebrated by drinking entirely too much brown liquor, and he asked me to be the godfather.”
The crib is together now, and he pulls a sheet from a duffel bag sitting at the foot of the bed.
“You said yes?”
