“He doesn’t know you, yet,” I argue. “And he’s been through a lot.”
“I’m not blaming him,” Tate replies quickly as he runs a hand through his thick hair, somehow creating a beautiful chaos with his locks. “I just… I wish this was easier for me. Maybe that would make it easier for him.”
“Probably not and you’re doing fine,” I assure him. Although I do wish he wouldn’t give up on Dylan and hand him off to me so quickly. “When you get back from the road trip, you can handle morning duties again and it will go better because you’ll know to change him.”
"And there'll be a proper changing table here tomorrow because I'll order it ASAP," Tate replies and motions towards the door with a tilt of his head. "Coffee? Donuts?"
“Donuts?”
“I have to really crack down on the diet after today so I wanted to go out with a bang,” he replies and a small smile quirks the corners of his lips. “I ordered Trejo’s Donuts from Uber Eats and I have Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles on its way, too. I got you the Carol C Special.”
My mouth starts watering immediately. “Amazing. Thank you.”
We ate at Roscoe’s when Diana and I visited. It was amazing and I have literally dreamt about those waffles with the perfect hint of nutmeg and that savory crispy-fried chicken breast. I wasn’t expecting to eat it again, but am thrilled with the prospect. We leave the bedroom and start down the stairs and he keeps shooting me weird glances. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We got hormonal. I blame the intense emotions we’re dealing with.”
He smirks. “I meant your ribs, but you can keep making excuses for the kissing. I won’t believe a word of it though.”
His smirk deepens and there is the classic Tate Garrison twinkle in his eye as he changes the subject. “I asked the team doctor to swing by and take a look at you.”
“What? No. I have no insurance.”
“It’s a favor,” Tate says firmly. “And I won’t take no for an answer. I have to leave the state and you’re the only caregiver for Dylan so I need to know your own health is on track. What I saw last night looked pretty banged up.”
I freeze at the bottom of the stairs. He was behind me and I feel his whole body slide by mine, his chiseled torso against my back, as he squeezes by and comes to stand in front of me. His eyes are kind. Concerned, even. "We played the Barons last night."
“So?” It’s all I can manage to squeak out.
“Your dad traveled with the team,” Tate replies. “And he sought me out after the game to ask about you.”
I feel my heart seize in my chest. “He knows I’m with you?”
“No, but he knows you didn’t stay in London,” Tate replies. “I lied and said I didn’t know where you were, but I don’t know why. Why aren’t you telling him?”
“Because if he knows I’m here, he’ll know I’m with you,” I explain as I start walking again, mostly to get away from Tate and his intense stare. “And we all know how much he loves you and your family. Plus, he knows Diana had a baby, and I was the nanny. He thinks the baby was Felix’s, but… My dad is a lot of things. Stupid is not one of them. He will put this together quicker than a Mensa student with a child’s puzzle.”
“Oh. So you’re lying to protect me?” Tate seems utterly stupefied at the concept.
“Yes. Just like I was lying in London to protect Diana. Well, actually I just ghosted you so I didn’t have to lie,” I reply as I settle Dylan in the playpen Tate ordered for him. There’s a bunch of cool new toys in there that he also picked, all on his own. Sure, one is a plastic hockey stick and puck, which Dylan chews on more than plays with, but the other toys are all fancy, eco-friendly learning toys. I was impressed when the order arrived. “All I do I lie to help everyone else. Anyway, I will tell him I am State-side today but not where.”
“Okay.” Tate swallows and a look of guilt washes over him again. I’ve seen it on his face daily since I turned up here and I feel bad. “And you’ll let my doctor take a look at those ribs?”
“If you deduct his fee from my paycheck,” I reply tersely.
"Fine." He rolls those pretty eyes of his. "He is supposed to be here around eleven. I know that's during Dylan's nap so hopefully, he doesn't see or hear the kid. If he does, will you…"
“I’ll tell him he’s mine, and I won’t let him see Dylan. If he cries, I’ll make the doc wait down here and go deal with it. More lies. My specialty.” With Dylan happily entertained with his toys I right myself and move toward the kitchen. “I need donuts, caffeine, and that Carol C Special.”
He pulls out his phone and glances at the screen. “It’s four minutes away.”
“Great.” I walk into the kitchen. He leans on the door frame and I try not to stare.
He looks gorgeous, which is insane. He's just wearing a plain blue T-shirt with a small Quake logo on the breast and a pair of wrinkled charcoal-colored shorts. His hair isn't brushed but yet, still perfect. There's a dusting of stubble on his strong jaw. Some of the hairs hold more ginger in them than brown. He hates it because it's patchy and he thinks it looks like a Calico cat. He once said the ginger makes him embarrassed to grow a playoff beard. I think it looks hot as hell, but I've never told him that.
“I’m worried about you,” Tate blurts out.
“I’m fine.”
