A few minutes later, Drew came rushing back down the stairs, running a towel over his head and wearing a clean LA Wolves T-shirt and gray sweatpants.
He froze as he caught sight of us on the couch. “You’re a fucking miracle worker, Tinsley.”
“She likes when I hum that lullaby.”
“I’m gonna need you to teach me that tune, pronto, if I’m going to survive the baby years.”
Drew collapsed into the chair across from me, his head in his hands. “I keep wondering if I’m enough for her,” he said quietly, like he was confessing a sin. “If she’d be better off with two parents. Or with someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“I don’t think anyone knows what they’re doing when they have their first kid. I think most people just make it up as they go along. Drew…” I waited until he met my gaze. “I know it’s hard right now, but you’re doing your best with her.”
“But what if my best isn’t good enough? I can’t even get her to stop crying.”
“My cousin’s kid cried constantly until she was four—no joke. My cousin used to say that her daughter was broken and then one day she just stopped.”
Drew’s eyes grew wide with horror. “She could cry foryears?”
“Okay, not the point I hoped you’d take from that. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes babies cry. If you’re meeting all her basic needs, then all you can do is just keep trying to soothe her. This is all probably pretty jarringfor her too. She’s in a new environment with new people. I still can’t believe her mom just ditched her like that.”
It filled me with rage the more I thought about it. How could she just leave this sweet little girl alone in Drew’s room?
“She’s lucky to have you,” I said, and I meant it. “You dropped everything for her. You’re learning as you go, but you’re showing up every day. That’s what matters.”
Drew’s expression shifted, a deeper emotion, more than gratitude, shining in the hazel depths. My stomach fluttered from the intensity. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had anyone look at me the way he was right now.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than normal.
“Anytime.” I broke our stare and looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms. She was my favorite Dumontier by a long shot.
“I mean it, Harper.”
When I glanced up, he still had that same intensity in his gaze. “Thank you for not making me feel like a complete failure as a father.”
“You’ve never failed at anything as long as I’ve known you,” I admitted honestly. And I had no doubt he wouldn’t fail Rory.
“I can think of one thing.”
A beat passed, the air feeling thick between us. “I failed at being your friend in sixth grade.”
I swallowed thickly. “Well, then I stand corrected, and I guess it’s a good thing Rory isn’t a Tinsley then, huh?”
The corner of his lips lifted up again in that same small smile I was getting dangerously addicted to.
“I don’t know. Not all Tinsleys are bad.”
TWENTY-THREE
I was buried neck-deep in research about attachment styles when Drew slid into the chair across from me. His hair was still damp—probably from a rushed shower—but he looked more put together than he had in a while. There was still exhaustion around his eyes, but the desperate, wild-eyed panic of early fatherhood seemed to be fading into something more manageable.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, keeping his voice low, so as not to bother the other students in the library. We were tucked away in a back corner where there weren’t as many people, but we still needed to talk quietly. “She wouldn’t take her bottle and?—”
“It’s okay,” I said, cutting him off. He didn’t need to explain. After helping him with Rory the other night, I got it. I wasn’t going to harp on him for being a couple of minutes late. He still showed up and that’s what mattered.
He looked at me like he didn’t believe me, so I smiled. “Seriously, Andy. Stop trying to lay it on so thick for the sympathy.” I might have been trying to goad him a little bit, but I also wanted him to relax. He seemed more high-strungthan I’d ever seen him, and I was still trying to find my footing with this new version of him.
He arched an eyebrow, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of the old Drew—the one with the cocky smirk and ready comeback. “If I wanted sympathy, Freckles, I’d have brought the baby. Nothing attracts the ladies like a hot single dad.”
Then he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thanks for not being a hard-ass about it. Ava’s got her now, so we should be good for a few hours.” His voice sobered. “And thanks again for the other night—helping with Rory.”
