Page 17 of Passed Ball

"Nah. She won't let me sit long anyway, and I'd probably doze off if she did." The weak laugh he gives me tells me there's truth behind that statement.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." I keep my distance, dropping everything on the table. "Water, more pens, and markers. You know, the necessities for signing."

For a second, I'm grateful he's too busy with feeding Holland to notice my clipped tone.

"I'll be quick and get out of your way so you can work."

Guilt twists my stomach. I want to apologize, but I want him out of here more.

Chapter 7

Xavier

I wouldn't say I know Vivi well, but I can tell she's uncomfortable. Professional composure can't hide what her stiff body language is screaming. She wants me out of her office. After our last two interactions, I'm not surprised. Every time she sees me, I'm a walking disaster.

Her back is ramrod straight as she stands beside her desk, shuffling things around needlessly. So I do the one thing I can to make her more comfortable, uncap a pen and grab one of the balls waiting to be signed. Before picking up the next one, I risk a glance over my shoulder, catching sight of Vivi stretching to reach her phone on the opposite side of the desk.

My foot that's rocking the stroller falters at the sight of her bent over the desk. She has to push up on the toe of one of her black heels to reach the device, and the green dress she's wearing pulls tight across her heart-shaped ass. For the first time in a long while, I take a moment to appreciate her beauty--like really appreciate it--because you can't be in the same room and not notice Vivi. She's got it all. She's sharp, focused, and has really distracting curves.

In another life, I'd have already made a move. But I'm not that guy anymore. I'm surviving, not thriving. And until I can carve out more time, relationships will have to wait.

I'm halfway through the pile of memorabilia when a cry comes from the stroller. Holland only got a fraction of her bottle earlier, and the half-ass job I'm doing of rocking the stroller while I sign isn't cutting it.

I've learned to do a lot one-handed over the past month. If I can manage a shit-covered shower without dropping her, I can finish signing this stuff while I hold her.

Unbuckling Holland, I scoop her out of the stroller and cradle her against my chest, suddenly wishing I had taken Vivi up on that chair.

There's an audible sigh from behind me, and when I turn towards Vivi, her eyes are closed and she's muttering under her breath. I don't get the impression that it's directed at me, but I've misread her before.

This seems like the worst possible time to interrupt her, but I ask anyway. "Um. Do you think I could get that chair?"

Her eyes open and she pushes back, but doesn't look up at me. "The chair is really the least of your worries, isn't it?" Or at least I think that's what she says, but I can't be sure. She might be talking to herself with the way she's rambling.

I fight a chuckle I know she wouldn't appreciate.

"Let me take Holland so you can focus on signing, and I can get back to work."

I hesitate, unable to pinpoint why. It's not a matter of trust, it's a matter of wanting to prove I can do this.

"That's not--no. I'll take the chair. I can sign while I hold her--"

"Xavier, stop. I know you can, but I need you out of my office at some point today. Please let me help."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair before conceding. "You're sure?"

"So sure. I know I'm not as warm as Tenley, but I promise you I don't hate babies."

Her self-deprecating comparison to her niece bothers me more than anything else she's said. She can be blunt, but to hear her think that about herself sparks a protective instinct in me I've only felt for a few others.

Holding Holland close, I walk over to Vivi, bending to her level. I look her in the eye and say, "Whoever made you think you weren't warm was a fucking idiot." I let the obscenity slip in front of my daughter because it's important Vivi knows how serious I am.

Her green irises meet mine, their softness stirring something inside me. I'm not sure I deserve the tenderness she's offering, and the irony isn't lost on me--I'm about to give her a lesson on her own worth.

"I know cold--I've seen it firsthand, and you're so far from it . . ." I shake my head. She doesn't need my tragic past, so I focus on what I've learned about her. "You can't run this place without having a selfless heart. Anyone who's spent even a minute with you in the presence of Tenley or the kids you work with every day can see the protective fire in your eyes. You're not just warm. You'd burn down the world to make sure the people you love have everything they deserve. Hell, you even stood up for me and you don't even like me."

"Did not."

There'sthe heat I was talking about, dancing wildly as she tips her chin up at me.

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