“They haven’t found out yet. Stay.” It’s a firm order.
I chew my bottom lip, considering. We both have a lot to lose if I get caught here. It’s not just my audience. The number of fans tuning in for the games has gone through the roof this season.
Watching his play alongside my commentary has become a social event, and nobody wants to be left out of our moments.
I look down, glancing at my phone in my hand. A text from Lindsey is on the face asking where I am. It’s so late.
“I’ll stay as long as I can.”
He seems to accept this answer, and I go to the other side of the bed, climbing in and putting my head on the pillow. I’m glad I was essentially ready for bed when I got the wild, impulsive urge to charge over here and confront him.Was that even today?
“Here.” Knox holds up his phone over us. “SayStinkbalm.”
I scoot a little closer, looking up and smiling as he takes the picture.
“Let me see it.”
He holds up the phone, tapping on the fresh image, then he airdrops it to me. I study the three of us together, smiling, content, and my stomach squeezes. Our heads are close, and Christine’s little body is between us. We look really good.
“Family portrait,” he says, with only a hint of a tease.
I scoot back to my place in the bed, facing him.
Our heads are on the pillows and our eyes meet. He smiles. I extend my hand over the infant sleeping between us, and he takes it in his.
Then, just like that night in a bar from what feels like another life, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my fingers.
CHAPTER 15
Knox
“Why are all these baby supplies still in bags?” Stanley twirls his fingers at the plastic bags of baby supplies scattered all over the kitchen counters and clearly looted.
He has a light accent I can’t place—it’s like Cuban… or Italian? He walks through my apartment with the poise of a dancer and the face of a disapproving judge.
Arms crossed, he turns to face me. “I’m not your man-servant, Mr. Bradford. I will not be doing housekeeping.”
“No way—I would never.” I add quickly, “You can call me Knox.”
I’m standing on the other side of the bar holding Cricket against my chest watching this small man judge us. It never even occurred to me that he might turn down the job, and now I’m kind of nervous. I need his help.
“Should I choose to accept the position, I will call you Mr.Bradford and you will call me Stanley.” He levels me with a stern, dark glare. “It keeps things clear.”
Stanley has style, and growing up with my uncle Craig, who is also my aunt Dylan’s best friend and former ballet partner, it actually makes me feel a lot more confident leaving Cricket with him.
Craig knew when to party and he knew when to be serious, and he took great care of us kids. Mom trusted him with her life.
“Understood.” I nod. “You don’t have to worry about any of this stuff. I’ll take care of it when I get back from practice. All I need is someone to watch Christine and not talk to the paps.”
“I’ve worked for bigger stars than you, Mr. Bradford, I know the rules.” His arms lower, and he pulls down the side of one of the plastic bags. “I presume these are baby supplies?”
“My cousin took me shopping,” I explain. “She picked out all these things, but I’ve been sort of in survival mode. If you decide to unpack them, I can pay you extra.”
“There’s a distinct odor of feces in this kitchen.” His upper lip curls.
“We had a little mishap with her diaper yesterday…”
“Where is it?”
