“Oh my God.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap myself. “You’re not in my way.”
Was I really that bitchy. That intractable?
This guy, who had done nothing but show up every minute of every day, would rather sleep on my lawn than inconvenience me, even a little.
Fuck, I’d turned into my mother.
That was a chilling thought.
Over and over, I’d replayed our argument the other night. It had been eating at me. I’d been in survival mode for so long that I hadn’t even realized how badly I’d been treating Jasper. He wasn’t a deadbeat baby daddy. Not even close.
Hit with the overwhelming need to apologize, I took a step toward him. “Jas?—”
A gurgling cry echoed down the hall, startling me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh shit, I woke him up.”
“I got it.” With his signature lopsided grin, he bounded toward the nursery.
He came out a few minutes later, Vincent cuddled to his chest, happily sucking on his binkie.
“He just needed a fresh diaper. Right, little dude?”
This was not fair.
He was shirtless.
Holding my baby.
In my living room.
And I was wearing stained sweatpants, and my hair was stringy and dirty.
The universe was punishing me. And I deserved it. After a week like this one, I had no energy left to bother with a shower or clean clothes. I’d worked from home while caring for Vincent, I’d done the grocery shopping, and I’d visited the daycare where he’d start part time next week. I’d overdone it, and now I was paying for it.
“I should shower.” I patted the messy bun on the top of my head. It might have looked cute three days ago, but it had almost calcified at this point.
“Can’t shower during a lightning storm,” he said.
A hint of annoyance flitted through me. While that was very logical, I hated it.
“Safety is kind of my thing, remember?”
Sighing, I searched his face. Underneath that little bit of frustration, I was dumbstruck. Because despite my gremlin-like appearance and demeanor, he was once again being kind and helpful.
“I’m gonna rock this guy and see if I can get him back to sleep,” he said, making a silly face at Vincent.
I cringed. “Do you want a shirt.”
“Sure.” He lifted one shoulder. “But I don’t want to stretch anything out.”
I surveyed his taut, toned body, then peered down at my own lumpy, dumpy one. “I’m sure I can find something.”
In my closet, I snagged an oversized NYU T-shirt from a hanger. Then I ran a brush through my hair and slapped on a thick layer of deodorant.
A few minutes after I’d returned to the living room, he emerged with the baby monitor, smiling happily.
“I can’t believe how big he is now,” he marveled. “It was like yesterday he could practically fit in my hand.”
