Page 34 of Mad Love

“I know.” I look down at Caleb, who’s fighting to stay awake.

He got jarred awake when the guys came in, but now that he’s used to the noise, he’s conking back out. I bounce him a little to see if he’ll stay awake.

“Guys, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this.” I look around the room. “Why don’t they have a playbook for single dads?”

Henley’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head. “I would’ve given anything for one. You got a spare notebook lying around?”

I shrug and nod. “Sure. One sec.”

I go into the library and grab a large blue spiral notebook and a couple of pens.

When I get back, they’re still talking about sleep. I toss the notebook to Henley and he opens it and stares into space before he starts writing.

“Levi didn’t sleep through the night until he was seven months old. I thought I was gonna die,” Rhodes says.

Rhodes’ son is two and looks just like him, which is a good thing for the kid because Rhodes has been onPeoplemagazine’s50 Most Beautiful Peoplelist for five years and running. The guy has superstar in his genes. His dad is British, multi-Oscar winner Troy Archer, and his mom is Amara, African supermodel and founder of several successful businesses in the beauty industry.

All of us but Penn have been on the list, which we love to razz him about, but he’s not quite twenty-four, so it’ll happen. Henley’s been on it eight times. I’ve been on it twice, which is something I never imagined happening, especially since I’m not an actor and I’m only twenty-six. We’re not a bad looking bunch, and it’s only a matter of time before Penn makes the cut. Dude looks like a model himself—hell, if we believed the press, we all do, but we make more fun of it than anything. The ridiculous title has coincided with our ages and how long we’ve been playing, which makes sense since we were relatively unknown before football changed our lives. Regardless, we give each other crap about it all the time, and it’s become a mock competition. Rhodes is thirty, so he has fewer under his belt than Henley, Bowie is twenty-eight and has been on the list three times. He’s also practically as famous as Mozart in Austria, where he was raised until he was twelve.

“Gracie was like that too,” Henley adds. “The first two made it seem like we were sleep whisperers. They slept through the night right away and once they were done breastfeeding, it was like eleven hours. And then Gracie comes along and bucks the whole system.”

We all laugh. Gracie is five and a little spitfire. It’s no surprise that she came into the world that way. Audrey is eight and quiet. I don’t think she’s ever caused a moment of grief. And Cassidy is twelve and from what Henley says, she’s the typical oldest child.She wants everything to be in order and can’t stand it when it’s not.

“He’ll adjust,” Bowie says, his eyes warm as he looks at Caleb. “It’ll just take time.”

Bowie is the most patient person I know. He’s massive and gruff and looks like he has a chip on his shoulder most of the time, but he’s a marshmallow inside. At least he is if he likes you. If he doesn’t, it’s a different story.

His daughter Becca is one of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen. She’s seven, always smiling, and she has Down’s Syndrome. Watching Bowie and Becca together gives me hope in humanity. She can be having a bad day, but when she sees Bowie, her whole face lights up and she runs and leaps into his arms like it’s been years since she’s seen him, even if it’s only been an hour. I know it’s been difficult to get the right care for her, especially with taking her on the road, but I’ve never heard Bowie complain.

“I’m so glad you guys are here,” I tell them. “Come on back.”

“Mind if I grab a beer?” Penn says.

“Of course not. Help yourself.”

“Everyone want one?” he asks.

We all chime in that we do and go sit in the living room, and Penn comes in a few minutes later and passes each of us a beer. Henley passes the notebook to Bowie and when Bowie reads what Henley wrote, he chuckles and starts writing.

I turn on a basketball game and we halfway watch it but mostly talk. It’s weird, the amount of pride I feel when they hold Caleb and talk about him.

“How’s it going with the girl?” Henley asks as he holds Caleb.

“Sadie?”

He nods.

“We’re keeping the peace for the most part.” I lean forward, my elbows on my knees.

“What’s she like?” Penn asks.

“Guarded…protective of her sister and Caleb.” I lean back, thinking about how I’d be if the roles were reversed and how I’d be protective of my siblings too. “She loves Caleb. There’s no question about that.”

“He’s the priority,” Rhodes says, nodding.

“I think it’s commendable that you’re working together right now,” Bowie says.

“Fuck yeah, it is,” Henley adds.

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