Page 29 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

Max holds the phone camera on Livvy as she wriggles in Mr. De Leon’s arms. She’s dressed in one of the long-sleeved onesies that I sent over with Max: yellow with purple flying elephants all over it. Her chubby legs are bare and she kicks them, showing off the knitted booties that match the onesie. She has the cutest dimples on her knees. Max’s hand enters the picture, his pinkie wiggling at Livvy. She coos. Max chuckles.

“She’s a really happy baby, Em. The ICU nurse spent an hour with us going over her feeding and sleeping schedule and kept saying what a happy baby she is. She started smiling last week and has been grinning non-stop ever since, the nurse says.”

“Probably gas,” Mr. De Leon grunts.

“Ass,” Max says.

“Yup, gas from her baby arse,” Mr. De Leon retorts.

“Ignore him, Em. He’s just sour because the nurse corrected him on how to hold the baby.”

“I told you, I haven’t held a baby since my niece and she’s a teenager now,” Mr. De Leon grumbles.

“Try not to break Daddy’s baby, Mr. De Leon,” I tease gently. “And thank you again for doing this.”

“You’re welcome,” Mr. De Leon says. “Tell Logan we’re still on schedule. We should touch down by eight p.m. if you want to meet the plane.”

“Daddy definitely does. He’d also love to see her if you can call again, Max.”

We’ve seen pictures of Livvy but she was asleep or drinking from a bottle in all of them. Daddy’s going to purely die when he sees Livvy’s smile.

“I will. Ah, here’s the nurse with her bottle. I’m going to feed her and then we’re going to head to the hotel to get some sleep before tomorrow’s flight home. If De Leon doesn’t drop my phone the way he tried to drop Livvy, I’ll have him take a video to send to Logan when he wakes up.”

“I didn’tdropher, you twat. I just wasn’t supporting her head right. Emily, don’t listen to a word this arse says. I’m an excellent babysitter.”

I chew on my lip, not sure what to say. Daddy has strong views about who should be spending time around Livvy and for all that Daddy let Mr. De Leon come to playgroup with us, I’m not sure he fits the bill.

My soft response is drowned by Max’s guffaw.

“Here, trade,” Max says, his voice still full of laughter. There’s a spinning view of Mr. De Leon’s beard and nostrils, the unicorn baby blanket I sent over with Max, and the ceiling. The view steadies on Max, now seated in a modular chair with Livvy tucked against one elbow while he holds a bottle with the other. She suckles eagerly, her pink lips working, her eyes fixed on Max’s face.

“Hey baby,” Max says, his deep voice gentle. “Does that taste good?”

In an unrecognizable falsetto, Mr. De Leon says, “So good, Daddy Maxie.”

“Creep,” Max says. “You better have that recording.”

“How’d you do that again?” Mr. De Leon asks. “I’m used to handling million-dollar, prototype field equipment. I don’t know what to do with all these buttons on your older model smartphone. It’s con-fus-in’.”

Max chuckles. “You’re even more of a dick on five hours of sleep.”

I’ve only seen Max and Mr. De Leon together a few times but from their banter it’s clear they’re good friends. Daddy banters with Master Niall the same way.

Livvy begins fussing: kicking her feet and spitting out the bottle’s nipple. A woman’s soft voice from out of the camera’s frame says, “Just elevate her head a bit more. She’s probably getting a bit of trapped wind.”

Mr. De Leon laughs. “Who broke the baby, Maxie?”

Max adjusts Livvy, who immediately begins feeding again. He curls his fingers around the bottle to give Mr. De Leon the bird.

Masculine chuckles join the chorus of the baby’s sucking.

Daddy looks less exhausted after his nap but he’s almost tentative when he joins me in the office where I’m writing. He brings me a cup of tea and leaves it on the edge of my standing desk. He kisses the top of my head without interrupting my dictation, and seats himself quietly behind his desk.

Definitely not a wolfy daddy entrance.

I work until I’ve hit my word count for the day. I don’t dare the wrath of the Avengers. Then I hang up my headset and join Daddy at his desk. I kneel next to his chair and wait for him to acknowledge me. He immediately swivels his chair and holds out his arms. I climb into his lap.

His eyes are red-rimmed, which could just be the broken night’s sleep. I cup his face in my hands and kiss his cheeks before snuggling in. “What’s wrong?”

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