For a moment I thought he might refuse. I could see the internal war playing out on his face—his obvious exhaustion battling with his need to be the one taking care of his daughter.
Finally, Rory’s increasing volume won out. “Okay,” he said, carefully transferring the warm, angry bundle into my arms. “Just…support her head, and?—”
“I’ve got her,” I said softly. “I used to babysit the Magnussen kids. I know how to hold a baby.”
“Fuck, those kids were little terrors.”
We shared a small smile, and for the briefest moment, I forgot that I was supposed to hate him.
I broke eye contact first and focused on the tiny bundle in my arms. She was so much smaller than I’d expected, so delicate. Her little face was flushed pink from crying, withthe tiniest button nose and impossibly long eyelashes. Fine, dark hair covered her head in soft wisps, and when she opened her eyes to look up at me, they were that newborn gray-blue color. She had Drew’s nose, definitely, but the shape of her eyes was different from his.
She didn’t stop crying immediately—I was good with kids, but not a miracle worker. But as I swung her slightly in my arms, her fussing started to settle.
“Hey there, sweet girl,” I murmured. “What’s got you so upset?”
When I was little and couldn’t sleep, or when I was upset about something, Mom used to sing to me. It was the same song every time—a gentle lullaby that always made me feel safe and loved. It had been well over a decade since my mom had sung it to me, but I still remembered every word.
Before I could second-guess myself, I started singing it softly.
Rory stopped fussing immediately. Her gray-blue eyes fixed on my face with an expression of complete attention, like she was fascinated by the sound of my voice.
I continued singing, swaying gently as I held her.
I was so focused on keeping Rory calm that I didn’t notice Drew had gone completely still until I glanced up and saw his face.
He was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. It was tender and surprised and maybe a little sad.
“I haven’t heard you sing in a long time,” he said quietly.
The words stopped me cold, because I knew exactly what he was referring to. The last time Drew had heard me sing was in sixth grade, during those three impossible weeks that December when we’d somehow been friends.
God, I’d been so stupid then. So naive. I’d actuallythought he cared about my music, especially when he sat through all those practice sessions listening to me work through my solo for the winter concert. He’d even helped me with the high notes, encouraging me when I got frustrated.
And then I’d overheard him laughing with his friends, calling me a dying cat. The memory was even fresher after sharing our history at girls’ night.
I’d never sung in front of anyone again after that. In fact, that was when I decided to focus fully on instruments and dropped choir altogether.
But here I was, singing to his baby daughter while he watched me with that same expression he’d had all those years ago. Like he was seeing something he’d forgotten existed.
And it just made me feel stupid all over again.
“That was a long time ago,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. My skin was starting to itch with the desire to get the fuck out of here. What had I done to deserve to be stuck with the one person who knew all my weak spots and always—always—managed to hurt me?
“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice still gentle. “It was.”
There was something else in his tone that made my throat feel tight. Like maybe he regretted how things had ended between us back then. Like maybe he remembered those three weeks the way I did—as something that could have been beautiful if we hadn’t been so young and stupid.
But that was probably wishful thinking. Considering all the shit he’d pulled since then, I had no doubt the only time he’d been truthful was when he’d told his friends I sounded like a dying cat.
I couldn’t let myself forget who he really was.
His daughter might be making him soft, but I couldn’t let her make me go soft on him. That was the fastest way to disappointment, and I already knew it.
Rory made a small sound, breaking the moment, and I looked down to find her eyes fluttering closed. Her breathing had evened out, and her tiny fist was curled around a piece of my sweater.
“She’s asleep,” Drew said, wonder in his voice.
“Yeah,” I whispered, afraid to talk too loudly and wake her up.
