Page 107 of Baby Daddy

Tears burned the back of my eyes. It took all I had not to cry. I couldn’t let my little girl know that this was as painful for me as it was for her. I smoothed her silky hair and then brushed away her tears.

“Cupcake, it’s complicated. Sometimes two people can fall in love, but it’s not meant to be.”

“But it was meant to be, Mommy! It is! The fortune teller said so!”

Unable to console her or explain, I just let her cry in my arms.

A half-hour later, we were checked out of our raunchy hotel and driving back to LA. Already in her pajamas, Tyson quickly fell asleep in the backseat, snuggled against Froggie, who’d come along for the ride. Taylor Swift’s “Sad Beautiful Tragic” played on the radio, and while the rain finally stopped, I needed windshield wipers to wipe away the tears pouring from my eyes.

Encountering both rush hour traffic and a jam up from an accident plus stopping a couple of times at drive-thrus for much needed coffee, it took over eight long, exhausting hours to make it back to Los Angeles. It was close to midnight when I pulled up to my house. To my surprise, another car was in my driveway behind Lulu’s. I recognized it. A black Porsche that belonged to Brock. The living room lights were on.

Parking on the street, I quietly got out of the truck, unfastened a sound asleep Tyson from her car seat, and gathered her into my arms. She stirred a little, but didn’t awaken. At the front door, I fumbled with the keys, the double lock harder than usual on account of holding Tyson. The door opened wide before I could unbolt the second lock. Handsome Brock, wearing a pair of low-slung sweats and a body-hugging Mighty Dicks T-shirt, stood tall before me.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Can I help you?”

I twitched a small smile. “It would be great if you could take our suitcases out of the truck. I’m going to put Tyson to bed.”

“Sure,” he said as I headed to our bedroom.

Wiped out from the long ride, I tucked my sleeping beauty into her bed and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I love you from here to the moon and back,” I whispered before tiptoeing out of the room. Silently, I prayed that she’d have sweet dreams and that Drake wouldn’t be in them. Or in mine. When I returned to the living room, Brock had already brought in the two bags along with Froggie. The bags were parked on the hardwood floor among the many scattered sealed boxes. While I was away, Lulu had obviously packed up most of the house in preparation for our move. God bless her. A pang of guilt shot through me. Though she’d insisted on our getaway, I felt bad that I hadn’t helped much.

“We didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow morning,” said Brock, setting Froggie on a chair. “If you want, I’ll leave.”

“It’s okay, Brock. Stay.” Weariness laced my voice.

“Thanks. I helped Lulu pack up earlier and asked if I could stay since I have an early morning client meeting downtown. It’s a hell of a lot easier getting down there from here than from Westwood.”

“No problem,” I replied, not asking him where he was going to sleep.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said as if reading my mind.

“You don’t have to. It’s uncomfortable.”

He quirked a smile. “Thanks. Where’d you go?”

Obviously, my sister had kept her word and not told him.

“Vegas.”

“Ah, Sin City.”

“More like Suck City.”

He laughed lightly. “It depends upon who you go with…or without.”

Drake. I read more into his words into his words than I should. My heart pinched.

“You look tired, Dee.”

“I am. It was long trip back.” I briefly told him about the traffic, but didn’t share the real reason behind my bloodshot eyes.

“Can I get you a glass of wine? Lulu opened a bottle of white and it’s sitting in the fridge.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“Relax, I’ll be right back.”

As he strode to the kitchen, I plopped down on the couch and blew out a deep breath. The tension that had built up inside me on the way home seeped out of my body. Not until I sunk into the cushions did I realize how really tired I was. I felt like one of Tyson’s ragdolls. As I tugged off my sneakers from my cramped feet, Brock returned with a glass of wine in one hand for me, a bottle of Coors in the other for him. After handing me the wine, he settled in a chair and angled it so he was facing me. He twisted off the top of the beer bottle and took a long swig of the frothy beverage. A satisfied “aah” escaped his throat after he swallowed. I followed suit and took a sip of the wine. The chilled liquid coursed down my throat and I savored how good it was. Certainly not the cheap Two Buck Chuck Lulu and I usually bought. Likely something big bucks Brock had brought over. I immediately took another sip and felt myself unwind.

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