Page 45 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Chapter Twelve

GARRETT

Stumbling out of my bedroom, I cross to the door of Abby’s room. She’s crying in her sleep again. She’s been doing this since we were in Dallas, and my heart breaks over the painful sobs. Of course, it was my stupid decision that brought her face to face with her mother. If I had just used my brain when I invited Abby and Erin to join me, she wouldn’t be hurting so much. But I hadn’t thought about Abby’s mother when I asked them to come along. I just wanted them there.

Considering the shape Morgan was in the last time I saw her, her managing to hold onto the job at the clubhouse, or any job, comes as a surprise. No doubt, Erin handled the situation far better than I could have. Where I would have lost my cool in front of Abby, Erin tried her damndest to make the situation as easy as possible on my daughter. And what did I do? I let my emotions get the better of me with Erin. In the middle of a crowd full of journalists and fans, no less. Almost all of who had the ability to take photos and recordings of my yelling at the nanny. At a golf tournament. With no thought to my sponsors or my career.

I should never have yelled at her like that. Not even when my heart went into free fall over Abby seeing her mother and the possibility of losing my daughter back to that woman. Erin did the best she could, but I lost it. And not just because of Abby. If it were only that, I could have fired Erin on the spot with no thought to explaining the situation. There’s no way I would have opened up and spewed my fears at her if she was only the damn nanny.

I hang back by the wall and watch my daughter’s face screw up and her chest bob up and down. She’s so small in the big bed that’s normally overflowing with a hundred stuffed goats and ducks vying for space. Even with Erin curled up beside her, one of Abby’s hands tucked tightly in hers, there’s still so much space around her.

Erin has snuck in every night this week. She doesn’t know I’ve watched them both sleep, until Abby finally goes peaceful. She’s out of the room before they join me for breakfast, but I haven’t been able to sleep while my daughter is hurting, and I wait for news from Callum on what Morgan is planning to do next. I asked him to follow up as soon as we left Dallas, told him to put that lawyer we’d used when I took over custody on retainer.

I keep recalling the first time I met my daughter. God, my heart was pounding so hard and my palms wouldn’t stop sweating. Somehow I was a dad. Clearly, I know how I became a dad, but though Morgan’s lawyer had flown to Chicago from Dallas to tell me and I’d had time to get used to the idea, it was just so far-fetched. So dreamlike. Until I met this tiny girl with dark hair and big blue eyes. Eyes like mine. Every protective instinct in me reared up and surged toward that little girl. And now I’m on a knife’s edge at the idea Morgan will want custody again.

I shove my knuckles into my hair and scratch the top of my head. Erin’s been frosty ever since. I can’t blame her, after my behavior. I yelled at her, pushed her away. These things I’m feeling for her are a little too real, which means she’s trouble. Because I can’t let it be obvious to the public that I’m having a fling with the nanny. Or give my sponsors another reason to drop me. Not if I want to keep my spot at the top—not if I want to keep playing at all.

Abby cries out louder and thrashes her head into the pillow as she raises her little arms, reaching. For her mother? The woman who walked out on her, who was so addicted to partying she couldn’t give it up for our daughter? Well, that woman isn’t here. I am.

Padding across the floor, I lie down on the mattress beside her and shift her into my arms. “Hush, sweet pea. Dad’s here.”

She quiets, sniffling into my chest, but she doesn’t wake. Behind her Erin stirs and lifts her head off the covers.

“I’ll go,” Erin whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear. The oversized shirt she wears to bed falls partway off her shoulder.

No. Stay. The words are so loud in my head, I’m surprised when she starts to shuffle off the bed, and I reach out to snag her hand tightly in mine. Maybe I don’t know how to keep Erin and my sponsors happy at the same time, but I’m not ready to let her go. I’ve never missed someone as much as I’ve missed her. I’ve never felt this way about someone I’ve fucked before.

Her hand stiffens, and she blinks owlishly in the narrow sliver of light from beyond the door. Squeezing her long, delicate fingers, I tug her back toward us and try to communicate telepathically something I have no idea how to put into words. Especially when I still haven’t apologized to her. I’ll work it out. I’ll make it up to her. Right now, I just want her to stay with me. With us.

Abby snuggles into my shoulder, finally peaceful as Erin drops back down on her side. I can feel her gaze glued to me in the dark, her palm stuck to mine as she slides her fingers between mine.

This should be wrong. This sensation that flutters in my chest as the three of us share a bed is foreign. I’ve never shared my bed with anyone. Never fucked in it or slept in it with anyone. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be sharing my daughter’s bed with another adult. Maybe a live goat, perhaps a dog or a duck, but not a human being who makes me miss her when she hasn’t even gone anywhere.

We lay there in the dark for ages while Abby sleeps, and I soak up the sweetness of holding Erin’s hand. Immerse myself in the strange rightness of it as the hours tick by while all around us, the darkness turns to blue and then gray. She lays with her head on her elbow, her eyes wide open. Stroking my thumb along the outside of her hand, I turn my head in the direction of the door. “We should talk.”

Erin gets up first, adjusting her T-shirt that’s fallen down one arm during the night as she pads out across the room. I shift Abby into the middle of the bed and cover her up with the crumpled blankets.

Erin is waiting in the hall, her brow slightly ruffled and her lip tucked between her teeth as she pulls her hair into a loose bun and fixes it with the hairband from around her wrist. “I just couldn’t bear leaving her to cry on her own. I didn’t know you were awake too.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if Abby weren’t crying.” A red, indented line marks her skin, and I want to lift it to my mouth and kiss it. I want to lift her up and kiss her. I don’t want to talk about last night. At least not yet, not until I come to grips with whether it means something. Gripping her elbow, I march toward the kitchen. “Coffee? We should do this with coffee.”

It takes just three minutes until Erin is standing on one side of the counter, her hands wrapped around a coffee cup. I’m on the other side, half perched on a stool and wishing I had put a shirt on with my sweats, sipping from my own mug. The air’s only slightly chilly this morning, but it feels cooler between us. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Sorry?” She looks up from studying the coffee in her hand.

“At the tournament. I gave in to my knee-jerk reaction over Abby’s mother, and that pain-in-the-ass journo.” I clear my throat and force the rest out. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I didn’t know her mother was going to be there.” Erin puts her cup down. “I really wouldn’t have taken her into the clubhouse if I had known. I wouldn’t do anything to upset that little girl. Or to jeopardize your relationship with her. That you didn’t know that—”

“I know that,” I say, dropping my gaze to the counter space between us and rubbing my forehead. “I do know that, but she’s my life. That woman just gave her away, and I am grateful that she had the presence of mind to hand her over to me, but what if the courts force me to give her back? What if Morgan goes on a bender while she has Abby, and my little girl has to fend for herself? I can’t let that happen.”

“And it won’t,” Erin insists. “You’re Abby’s father. You have full custody. It’s up to you whether you’re willing to let her mum have a place in her life.”

I shake off the sensation of ants crawling on my skin that I get when I think about custody and lawyers. Erin’s reasoning soothes some of the worry away, enough that I can focus on her. “Sorry, that isn’t the conversation I wanted to have right now. You and I. We’ve gotten close.”

“Well, we were sleeping together.”

“Perhaps a tad too close?” It feels more complicated than just the connection of two bodies in an entirely pleasurable activity.

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