“Shit!” The color in the room is my first clue that I’ve overslept.
I sit up slowly, Holly’s body pressed against my sweaty T-shirt, a small pool of her drool crusted in a circle just below the collar. The pounding sounds again.
“Just a second!” I cough to clear the raspiness from my voice. My throat feels like I gargled Jello while I slept.
I get to my feet and run my palm around Holly’s back to her butt, and the full diaper makes itself obvious. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut tight, popping them back open in hopes that I’ll finally be able to see well enough to make out the time on my phone. I lean over the kitchen counter as Holly breaks into a cry, and that’s when I see a dozen notifications from my email inbox on the lock screen. I guess I didn’t dream the dinging sound I heard in my sleep. It was my phone. Or, more accurately, my father pinged my email with messages, asking to meet. He’s been emailing me for weeks, and I have yet to respond. I only read the first message he sent, the one letting me know he was out of prison and would like to talk.
I very much would not like that.
“Brooks, you said to be here at seven, and it’s a little after, so maybe let me take care of Holly so you can get your ass to practice? I had to drop the boys off at preschool so I’m a few minutes late.” Lindsey’s voice is barely muffled by the door.
I hate to dump a cranky, diaper-bombed baby on her like this, but I guess that’s sort of the gig she signed up for, so I drop my phone back on the counter and head to the door. She takes Holly in her arms as soon as I crack the door wide enough, and she shooes me off to get ready for my workout.
“I got her. She’s easier to clean up than you are. You . . . you’re a mess,” she teases. At least,I think she’s teasing?
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, tugging my damp shirt up from the collar as I make my way toward my bedroom. I stop in the doorway when I realize I haven’t given Lindsey any directions about Holly’s stuff, where the diapers are, whether she’s been fed yet—but by the time I crane my neck and open my mouth, she’s somehow found the diaper bag and unrolled the pad to change my daughter.
I get caught at the sight for a moment, a little jealous of Lindsey’s natural intuition. She begins to hum and glances up, catching me, and her mouth curves up on the edges.
“I promise, I’ve got this. I’ve changed a diaper before. I changed four of hers yesterday,” she says through a soft giggle.
I sigh out a tired laugh of my own.
“You’re right. I’m just . . . I guess all of this is a shock to me. How it’s easy for some, I mean.” I stretch my right arm up and grasp the door jamb, stretching the kinks out of my body. Lindsey’s gaze lingers on me, and I note the slight drop of her sightline to my stomach. Her mouth is still curved into this soft, suggestive grin. Or maybe I’m simply reading the suggestive part. Wishful thinking.
Bad fucking ideas.
“Right, well. I’m gonna . . .” I jut my thumb over my shoulder toward my shower, and she lifts her brow.
“Yep. Go do that,” she says, dropping her attention back to Holly. I back away before I make things weird.Weirder.
I wish I had more than two minutes for the shower, but as it is, I don’t have time to wait for the water to warm up. That’s probably for the best. The cold water does wonders in waking my ass up fully. By the time I’m dressed and heading out the door, I’m running a few minutes ahead of schedule.
I pop out of my room and spot Holly lying on a rainbow-colored play pad, an arch of tiny, twinkling stars stretched over her, from corner to corner of the pad. Lindsey is on the floor next to her with what looks like a textbook flipped open at her side. She’s running her fingertips in circles around Holly’s belly, and I think . . . no wait, I know my daughter is smiling.
“What is this magical thing?” I carry my sneakers to the couch and sit at the end so I can slip my feet into them one at a time.
“I went through a few of the boys’ old things and thought Holly might like this. I have a few more items in the car. I’ll bring the swing over tomorrow. I couldn’t get it out of the closet without making a mess. The perks of living in what has become your parents’ storage room,” she says.
I nod and smile.
“Wow, that’s really nice of you. Looks like she loves it.” I get to my feet and move closer so I can look down at my happy little girl. I’m not sure if Holly is looking at me or the stars right now, but I am sure she’s content. More than that, she’s happy. And it sort of makes my chest burn that I need to leave her.
My gaze shifts to the textbook next to Lindsey. It’s open to a page displaying a series of old Coca-Cola ads.
“What’s that about?” I nod toward it.
She flips the cover shut and taps her finger along the title—Intro to Advertising.
“I’m thinking about going back to school, finishing my degree. Before I enroll in anything, I figured I should brush up and make sure I still like this stuff.”
She flips the book open again, this time on a two-page chart filled with dollar signs. I chuckle.
“Looks like it’s all about money, so that’s pretty enjoyable, I’d say.”
Lindsey smirks on one side of her mouth and shrugs.
“Money is great and all. Don’t get me wrong, I like it a lot. But it’s not everything. It’s a means to an end, if that makes sense.” She tilts her head, her eyes centering on mine, and my mouth waters. It’s the strangest feeling, like she’s been reading my midnight thoughts or something.
