Once that girl got something in her head, nothing could change her mind—but a guy could dream. Maybe she’d be up for round two this weekend.
Mark:Are you there?
Mark:Jenna was called in for emergency surgery on alabradoodle, and I’m alone with Eloise.
Mark:I need help!
Mark:Wake up and answer me!
Mark:ANSWER ME, YOU FREAKING IDIOT!
Me:Whoa, bro. What’s going on?
Mark:Get your ass over here. Please. Hurry
Me:Are you okay? Is the baby okay?
Mark:Yes. Of course. No. Probably. Just get over here!
Me:No prob. Let me get dressed, and I’m on the way.
Mark:Good.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbing my keys and wallet before running out the door. Mark was always the calm and quiet brother, never raising his voice or freaking out. Eloise was born two months ago, and Mark took to fatherhood like a fish took to water. He loved and doted on that baby girl, never once complaining about dirty diapers or lack of sleep.
I jogged to my truck and peeled out of the parking lot, thankful they lived only a few miles down the road. I thought Jenna had another week or three of maternity leave left—but being the boss, she had the authority to make her own schedule, so I wasn’t surprised she went back to her clinic as soon as possible.
By the time I threw my car in park and ran to the door, I’d come up with half a dozen scenarios of what I’d find.
Eloise stuck with her head in between the slats of her crib? Was that a thing? Could she lift her head yet? Maybe she had an unexplained bout of the hiccups? A rash? Fever?
Why the hell did he call me? I knew more about freaking turnips than I did about babies. If Mark needed the smart panel in the house looked at, he called—not for random baby-related issues I may or may not have any insight into.
I threw open the door and was met with shrieking—no, wailing. Perhaps Mark found a poltergeist in the attic and inadvertently pissed it off.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growled, stepping out from the kitchen with Eloise pressed to his chest.
Ah. Not a poltergeist.
He shushed her, red-faced and panicked, swaying his body and rubbing circles on her back as she continued her attempt to shatter all the glass in the house.
“Was there traffic or something? Were you with some chick? I’m floundering here, and you drove slower than… something.”
His shoulders sagged as he moved, switching to pat her back as she let out another ear-piercing scream that made my eardrums throb.
I’d have to get my hearing checked later.
I didn’t know what to do, but standing in the doorway while my younger brother looked on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, wasn’t solving anything.
“It wasn’t some chick,” I answered, stuffing my hands in the pocket of the joggers and confused about what bothered me more—that he referred to Emma as some chick or that he assumed I’d hooked up with some random.
“Fine. Not some chick. Madison, perhaps?”
I grimaced, wincing as he chuckled and continued to unsuccessfully soothe the baby. Madison was maybe fiftieth down the list of my bad decisions—and one I refused to repeat, especially now that Emma and I were hooking up again.
“No? Okay, then. The love of your life, perhaps? Your soulmate? The missing piece of your heart?”
“Sarcasm does not suit you,” I said, rolling my eyes and huffing as he adjusted Eloise to his other shoulder.
