I truly hate the man.
My father didn’t prepare me for this day. I was only ever meant to run companies and make money.
Nate and I couldn’t be more opposite.
Nate did scouts.
I was sneaking into bars at sixteen.
Nate gave up his dream of joining the Navy to be a dad. He sacrificed.
I don’t know if I’ve ever truly given up anything. For anyone.
Maybe time. Choosing to show up for a friend instead of disappearing into work.
Oh yeah… and sex for five months.
But that’s not the same thing as giving up a dream.
It’s killing me, though… not having sex. Especially when the epitome of the perfect woman is dangling in front of me at all times.
Hence my gaze on her now.
“Hey,” I say, forcing my thoughts back to the present.
She looks up from her work. “Hey, back.”
I shift in my seat, sitting up taller. “I’m nervous,” I say. “What if we suck at this? At being…” The word feels wrong on my tongue. “Parents.”
She laughs softly. “Oh, we’ll definitely suck.”
Well, fuck.That’s not what I was expecting her to say.
“We don’t know the first thing about parenting,” she adds. “We’re not supposed to. We don’t have kids. We didn’t exactly grow up with great examples.” She pauses. “But you know what wedohave?”
“What?”
“Love for Cole.”
She closes her laptop, fixing her full attention on me.
“We both love him,” she says gently. “You especially. You know Cole. And you knew Nate. That alone gives you a head start. We’ll learn as we go.” She smiles. “Be patient with yourself.”
Then she adds, teasing, “I know you’re not used to sucking at anything, but it’s okay to suck sometimes.” She shrugs. “It just means you can only get better.”
It’s not really advice. Nothing I can turn into a system or a plan, but it loosens something in my chest.
“Thanks,” I say, the furrow in my brow softening.
We’ll have a lot to figure out this weekend. The domestic reality of living together with a kid. Two extra people in my Chicago place, which suddenly feels a lot smaller than my New York penthouse. Lessspace. Fewer escape routes. Harder to get distance if one of us needs it.
Which reminds me?—
I reach into my backpack and grab my wallet, pulling out the credit card I ordered for her the day after she agreed to this. I hold it out. “Got this for you. Buy whatever you want for Chicago, essentials, clothes, shoes. Whatever you need so you don’t have to keep packing a bag.”
She hesitates, and I wave my hand like it’s not up for debate. She reluctantly takes it.
“Thank you,” she says slowly. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
