It was honestly starting to freak me out.
“Thanks again for being willing to meet here instead of the coffee shop,” he said, bouncing slightly as he paced back and forth across the living room with his daughter strapped to his chest in one of those baby carrier things.
I still couldn’t get over the fact that he had a kid.
And even weirder was watching him dote on her. She’d been fussing since I got here fifteen minutes ago to work on our psychology project. “It’s just easier with all her stuff being right here, and I’m not really ready to answer all the questions people would have if I showed up on campus with a baby.”
“Sure,” I mumbled from my spot on the couch as I spread my psychology notes across the coffee table.
To be honest, when he’d texted yesterday asking to change our meeting location, I’d expected some kind of trap or another elaborate prank designed to humiliate me. Maybe he’d have the whole hockey team waiting to film my reaction to some cruel joke. Maybe this was all an elaborate setup to get me alone somewhere so he could really go for the jugular.
But fifteen minutes in, and there was no punchline. No hidden cameras. Just Drew, looking more exhausted than I’d ever seen him, trying to juggle academic work with a crying baby.
I’d walked into the hockey house to find Drew Dumontier transformed into something I’d never expected to see.
A father.
And apparently, having a kid had overnight turned him into a nice person.
What the hell was happening right now? I felt like I’d walked into an episode ofBlack Mirror.
Every time Aurora made the slightest sound, Drew’s entire focus shifted to her. The only time I’d ever seen him this focused was when he was on the ice. Except where he pushed hard on the ice, with the tiny baby in his arms he was careful, as if he was handling something infinitely delicate.
Which, I guess, he was.
Drew was pacing back and forth across the small space, a tiny pink bundle in his arms, bouncing and swaying in what looked like a desperate attempt to calm her down. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and there were dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t been sleeping much.
His voice was tender but heavy with exhaustion as he spoke to the baby in a way I’d never heard from him before. “Come on, Rory. Please. I fed you, I changed you, I tried the bouncing thing…” His voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know what else you want.”
“I thought her name was Aurora?”
“It is, but I shortened it.”
Her response was to cry even louder, her tiny fists waving in the air like she was personally offended by his existence.
Drew looked up at me, and for a moment his expression was completely unguarded. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly ideal for working on our project.”
“When’s the last time you slept?” I asked, because he looked like he was about to fall over.
“What day is it?” He attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “I feel like she’s been crying nonstop for days, but I know that’s not true. I’ve gotten a little sleep here and there. But she hardly slept at all last night, and nothing I try is working. I think I’m doing something wrong.”
His admission was filled with so much worry that my heart actually broke for him a little bit. His whole world had changed in an instant, and he looked like he was one more baby meltdown away from feeling like a total and utter failure.
I watched him struggle for another minute, some internal war playing out between my head and my chest. This could still be an elaborate setup—Drew was smart enough and cruel enough to fake desperation if it served some larger purpose. But looking at the genuine panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he tried to soothe his daughter, I found myself making a choice I never thought I’d make.
Before I could second-guess myself, I opened my mouth. “Can I…” I started, then stopped. What was I doing? This was Drew Dumontier. My sworn enemy. The guy who’d singlehandedly made my life a living hell.
But his daughter hadn’t asked for this. And I certainly knew what it was like to be born into the wrong family.
“Can you what?” he asked, his voice barely audible over Rory’s cries.
“Can I try?” The words came out before I could stop them. “Sometimes babies just need a different person to hold them.”
Drew stopped bouncing and looked at me with surprise that quickly shifted to something that might have been relief. But then hesitation crossed his face.
“You don’t have to—” he started.
“Drew.” I stepped closer, holding out my arms. “You look like you’re about to collapse. Let me help.”
