“And it’ll stay between us?”
“Always, I promise.”
“Is this the life your brother wanted? Like fatherhood, I mean? I know he’s been a caretaker all his life, so I guess I want to know, is this something he would’ve chosen naturally or is it just him dealing with the circumstance he’s in?”
It’s something that’s been in the back of mind, wondering if I cornered him into this life.
Camille doesn’t miss a beat, answering immediately. “It is without a doubt what he’s always wanted. Quentin loves being an uncle, but I know the last few years he’s been lonely. Especially after…well, maybe I shouldn’t—”
“He told me about that,” I tell her.
“So, yeah, especially after he thought he was going to have it once, and to have it all be fake really opened his eyes to what he wants in life. Quentin is the kind of guy that, yes, will take care of people with no questions asked, but I know my brother, and he’s doing this because hewantsthis. That baby is going to be the center of his world.”
Her words give me the validation I needed, knowing that I didn’t ruin his life somehow, despite his insistence that he’s excited to be a dad.
While this may not be the path we intentionally chose, I think it’s becoming the one we were supposed to be on.
“Blueberry is lucky to have him,” I reply softly, not missing the smile on Camille’s face as I say it. She’s been nothing but so sweet to me, and I want to make sure she knows how grateful I am. “I appreciate you being so welcoming. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but I’m happy your brother’s the one I’m doing it with.”
“I’m glad this baby has two strong, loving, and kind parents. Even though I don’t know you well, I’m a good judge of character.” She winks, turning the serious conversation a little more light-hearted.
“Thank you.” I smile softly, a sense of comfort wrapping around me at how easy she is to talk to. Then I ask, “Can I get you two anything?” Not wanting to be a bad hostess.
“We’re good for now, thank you. But we may have to order dinner soon if that’s okay. I’m not the best cook.” She chuckles.
“That’s okay. Quentin made a bunch of meals for me to eat while he’s gone. There should be enough,” I assure her as I stand and make my way to the kitchen to see what I could take out to feed us later.
Camille follows, perching herself on a stool at the island as she asks, “Quentin made you food for the week?” Her tone is a mix of shocked and curious.
I pause with my hand on the fridge handle, turning to face her so I can see the look on her face. She’s got this cheeky smile going on with hearts in her eyes, making me relieved she’s not annoyed by that.
“Yeah, he didn’t want me to worry about cooking while he’s gone,” I reply, feeling my cheeks heat.
Camille squeals. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”
It really is.
He made an entire two weeks’ worth of dinners and baked goods, some in the freezer to preserve their freshness. The fact that he’s made sure we would be taken care of while he’s away makes my heart skip a beat because it might be the sweetest thing someone’s ever done for me.
Between the playlist he made based on the music I like to this, he’s making it incredibly hard to remember what the word platonic means.
Chapter 35
Quentin
I’m not pitching today, which means I can take it easy as I watch the team gear up to play against Florida.
The humidity is stifling, with many of us walking around with portable fans to keep ourselves cool, seeing as it’s a day game.
With my fan in hand, I sit on the bench in the dugout as our team makes their way to the field. Ryker whips a ball to first base, right on target, never missing his focal point.
And while there’s so much going on around me, I can’t help my mind from drifting back to Teagan time and time again. Coach Tran doesn’t like us to be on our phones, so I made sure to check in before we got to the stadium.
She claims she’s fine and to stop worrying, but fuck, I can’t help it. With us getting closer, it’s getting harder and harder to feel like we’re just friends, which doesn’t help my anxiety about being away from her at all. It’s probably not healthy to be this wrapped up in her, but that’s a problem for another day.
The rest of the team fills in on the benches, and there’s a single spot left beside me, and as expected, Ian is the last one to make his way to the dugout. He eyes the spot next to me and his jaw tightens,knowing he has no choice but to sit beside me. Ian begrudgingly sits down, not uttering a word.
It’s like I can feel the tension mounting between us, a wave that’s rising and rising, and soon will drown us both.
