Page 68 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

I launched into it, explaining how I’d tried to help George today, concluding with Blake being mad. Her expressions changed through the summary. She scowled when I told her what Brent said. She grinned when I explained how I got George off the hook and how I gave Brent and Reagan what they deserved. In the end, though, she frowned. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Blake interviewed for the job, then? She talked about it, but I didn’t think she’d actually do it.”

“She says she needs money. More income.”

Amanda opened her eyes wide. “She told you that?”

“We’ve been, uh, spending time together,” I said. “And I hate seeing her suffer like this.”

“Have you told her that? That you care? Or are you just, you know, fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?”

I opened and closed my mouth. For one thing, it was weird to talk to her about this. But more importantly, I didn’t know what to say. I shouldn’t have totellBlake I cared about her, her and George. I showed her that I did when I stayed with him last night and made sure she rested.

And when I had to think deeper about it, I realized that it wasn’t a matter of my deciding whether I cared about her as much as it was about the fact that I acknowledged it.

I cared. I had always cared, in a remote way before and after we slept together at Kevin’s funeral. But this magic that connected us since I returned, it was undeniable.

Amanda cleared her throat, still waiting for an actual reply. I scowled at her. “It’s not just sex between us.” According to me, it wasn’t.

How could it be nothing more than scratching an itch when she had the power to make me feel so whole again?

27

BLAKE

Reagan hadn’t been bluffing.

By the time I got to Jenny’s kitchen to begin prepping for the next catering gig, the warehouse texted to let me know that they’d chosen someone else.

“Well, then fuck you too,” I muttered as I slammed the door shut and hurried inside.

This bitterness didn’t belong in my life. Losing the chance to make more money sucked, but it was the way Zach had butted in that bothered me the most.

He was a protective man. I knew that, and I’d always been aware of it. Going into the military to sacrifice his life and freedom was a fundamental basis of being a protector.

Seeing him step in asmyprotector, to stand up to Reagan and to look out for George, though, that threw me off. It was too easy to picture him like that—caring, generous, and defensive on our behalf. And it was just as easy to get latched to the idea of himalwaysdoing that. That I could count on him to be in my corner however and whenever I wanted or needed him.

Which wasn’t true.

Until he could change his mind and say he wanted to stay here, to make something real and lasting with me, it seemed like a big old bunch of contradictions and mixed messages. He lusted for me and could care for George when he was ill, yet he’d still want to take off on the premise that he might find something better or more worthwhile elsewhere? He tucked me in and showed me tenderness like no other man ever had, but at the same time, he couldn’t commit to being in town past a specific date just because being on the go was what he’d always done?

Over the next week and a half, as I avoided him and didn’t reach out for him, I tried to battle this war in my head where he was concerned, this heart-breaking conviction that I just wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t a prize to try to win or keep.

Sexually, he treasured me. But otherwise? I felt like a fool to be getting my hopes up.

Being busy at work prevented me from having any time to see Zach anyway, but on the night before George’s last day of school before winter break would start, I struggled with how badly I’d missed the man I swore I couldn’t call my own.

I headed home from a catering gig and paid Amanda for watching George. “He’s asleep,” she reported.

I yawned, then smiled. “Good. Because I found another little bag of gifts to wrap for him.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey, he was asking me about Zach before I read his bedtime story.”

I winced.Oh, no.

She put her hands out. “No, I didn’t—No. I didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t. That’s on you. But he was asking where Zach went.”

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