Page 3 of Dr. Baby Daddy

This apartment is perfect.

As I cross the worn hardwood floors to the piano, my fingers wiggle at my sides. It’s been a long week of packing and I’m aching to get back to playing. The ivory keys have been calling my name since the movers picked up the piano from the storage unit two days ago.

I’ve done nothing but worry about it since it was loaded up. Now that it’s here and safe, it’s finally time to play again.

If I’m going to be ready to make my debut as a Broadway pianist, then I need every moment of practice time I can get.

“Hey, old friend.” Smiling, I brush my fingers across the top. “It’s been too long. No mean roommates are ever going to make me lock you up again.”

Sunlight streams through the window as I take a seat at the piano and lift the cover. I position my hands over the keys and exhale slowly. The music I need to memorize for rehearsal tomorrow plays through my mind.

I press down the first key and soon my fingers are flying. The melody comes easily, though I don’t know the words yet. I’m going to have to spend the rest of the day practicing them if I want to impress the director tomorrow.

And I need to impress the director.

This is my one shot on Broadway. I’ve worked too hard to get here to blow this.

I’ve only gotten halfway through the first song when the banging on the wall starts. Ignoring the constant pounding, I keep playing. It’s the middle of the day, and practicing is more important than a neighbor who hates show tunes.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I play through the second song.

The pounding throws off my timing and I grind my teeth, switching to another song from later in the show. I miss a couple notes, cursing out whoever is banging.

I take a moment to compose myself before digging through the box beside the piano for the sheet music. As I spread it across the rack, I make note of the parts I missed.

Getting this song right is imperative. It’s the main character’s ballad when all seems lost. If I don’t nail this, then the climax of the entire performance is going to be thrown off.

If I practice the song a few more times today, I should have it memorized for tomorrow.

As I play the first few notes, the pounding picks up again. I do my best to ignore it, running through the song a second time. Once I’m through it again, I move the sheet music and play it again, only missing two notes this time.

The pounding finally stops as I blow out a sigh of relief.Finally.

My front door shakes under the weight of a fist as I begin another song. My chest clenches tight as I stop playing and getup, heading for the door. The last thing I want to do on my first day in a new building is get off on the wrong foot with my neighbors.

Hopefully, whoever is on the other side of the door understands that this is my job and I have to practice.

Right now, I don’t have the money to buy any sort of soundproofing to put against the wall. I have a couple of rugs to spread out which should absorb some of the sound, but not enough.

I pause for a moment when the pounding stops. As I stand on my toes to look through the peephole, the fist collides with the door again.

I’m met with the glare of an angry man as he steps back and crosses his arms, glaring at the peephole.

Great. Already making friends in the building. This is going to go wonderfully.

After taking a deep breath, I unlatch the rusted chain and swing the door open. The man’s dark eyes narrow, sending ice running through my veins. He looks like he’s trying to tear me apart from the inside out with nothing but his stare.

“Hey.” I try to keep my voice as bright and cheerful as possible, even though his presence sucks the air from the hallway. “Sorry about the noise. I have a rehearsal in the morning, and since it’s the middle of the day, I didn’t think I’d be bothering anyone.”

Dark hair is raked back as if he’s run his fingers through it a thousand times. Stubble coats his strong jawline and those piercing eyes flash with anger. His lips press together as his gaze rakes up and down my body before settling on my face.

“You thought you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “That’s the problem with people your age, isn’t it? You always think that you can do what you like, and then you act surprised when it bothers people.”

Who does this man think he is?

Those words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to start a war with my neighbor.

“Excuse me?” I take a step out into the hall. “First of all, you look like you’re barely older than me, even if you are throwing a child-sized tantrum. How about the next time you have a complaint, you knock on my door politely instead of trying to tear it down?”

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