“Monkeys for the munchkin,” I say as I swing her into my arms.
At the lions, a dad recognizes me. “Holy cow, you’re Felix Barlowe.”
He asks for a quick photo, telling me his kid watches every game. We chat for a minute about route running, and he thanks me three times before leaving.
“That wasn’t so bad.” Piper is standing a few feet away with Ellie, her tiny hands pressed to the plexiglass as she watches a baby gorilla climb all over its mother.
“Most people are cool. It’s the ones who aren’t that make it complicated.”
On the way to the giraffes, two teenagers ask for selfies. Then a mom at the penguins wants me to record a video message for her son’s birthday. Each time, Piper steps back with Ellie, giving me space. Each time, I wish she’d stay closer.
I’m screwing this up, but I can’t seem to stop it. Ellie falls asleep against my shoulder on the way out, and Piper and I walk in silence toward my vehicle.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally.
“For what?” She won’t look at me as she transfers Ellie to her car seat.
I rub a hand along the back of my neck. “For not knowing what the hell I’m doing.”
“Figure it out.” Her voice cracks. “Because I can’t keep watching you be perfect with Ellie, imagining what you could be with our baby, only to remember that you’re counting down the days until you can hand her off to someone else.”
“Piper—”
“Let’s just go home, okay?” She’s already moving to the passenger side. “It’s been a long morning.”
The drive back is quiet except for Ellie’s tiny toddler snores. I’m not sure what to say or how to manage the emotions tumbling through my head and heart like my skivvies on the spin cycle.
“I’m going to head over to Sadie’s,” Piper says as we pull into the driveway. “Give you some space.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” She’s already pulling her keys from her purse. “I need to talk to my sister anyway.”
I watch her get into her Jeep before I open the back door of the SUV to retrieve Ellie. I’m missing something important. Something I should have said in that parking lot.
The older woman from down the block walks by, offering a ‘Go Grizzlies’ greeting, and I lift a hand in return. At least someone thinks I’m capable of not screwing up.
Too bad she’s wrong.
18
PIPER
The house isdark except for the glow from the muted television. Olivia Benson is giving some perp hell on SVU, but I’m not really watching. It’s nearly midnight, and I’m curled on the couch, clutching the most pathetic but precious-to-me baby doll ever. There’s a piece of peanut butter and jelly toast on the coffee table that I made ten minutes ago and haven’t touched.
I’m also crying. Not pretty, delicate tears. Full-on ugly sobbing.
“Piper?” Felix’s concerned voice drifts down the stairs.
Oh, hell, no.
“Go away!” I whisper-yell, not wanting to wake Ellie as I wipe my cheeks with the edge of the doll’s ratty dress. The last thing I need is for him to see me puffy-eyed and snotty, clutching this decrepit toy.
But his footsteps move closer instead of retreating. Because of course they do. I should know Felix Barlowe doesn’t take direction well.
“I mean it, Felix. I want to be alone.”
“Not happening.”
