Page 35 of The Way We Collide

“I really don’t like going to strip clubs.”

Her head cocks to the side, and her eyes almost roll as she looks at me. Haddy sits on Raven’s hip blinking those bright blue eyes at me.

“You’re doing me a favor, Hendrix. I don’t expect you to change your whole lifestyle for the three months we’re here. Go out with your friends.”

Slowly, carefully, I cross the space to where she’s standing. Holding out my hands, I give Haddy a moment to decide. I’m gratified when she leans forward, allowing me to lift her off her mother’s hip and onto my chest.

“I’ve gone with him a few times.” I rub my hand up and down Haddy’s back as she lays her little head on my shoulder. “Alana is this old-school, pinup-type of girl everyone was talking about. I was a single dude. I was curious.”

The microwave buzzes and she turns away, testing the temperature of the liquid on her wrist. “You don’t have to defend yourself. It’s not my business.”

“I really don’t like those clubs,” I continue anyway. “Those women are too thin. Their boobs are clearly fake.” She’s not impressed, so I quickly add, “And they’re all someone’s daughter or sister.”

Her eyes almost roll, but she redirects, holding out her hands for our baby. “Just stop.”

“I’m sorry.” My voice is quiet, and I don’t want to give her Haddy.

I’m not sure why, but I’m invested. I don’t want her to think I’m that kind of guy.

“Why are you sorry?” Her voice is equally quiet. “I’m not here to be your ball and chain.”

My chest burns. “Still. I care about what you think of me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the mother of my daughter. And we’re going to be married.”

“It won’t be a real marriage.”

“It will be for a little while, and I want you to think I’m a good guy. A good dad.” I stop short of saying a goodhusband. That feels way too intense. “I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” She says it like she might think I’m something else, though.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a fuck boy either. I want you and Haddy to be proud of me.”

“You definitely need a swear jar.” She lifts our daughter off my chest. “Bedtime.”

10

Raven

“And they all say goooood niiiiight…” I sing the last words softly, rubbing my hand slowly over Haddy’s back as I back away from her crib.

Her eyes are closed, and a round nightlight in the shape of a moon sits on a nearby table. It projects stars all over the ceiling of her bedroom, and the blackout shades are drawn. The room is cozy and warm. She has a blanket over her and Axel is clutched at her side.

A pacifier is in her mouth, and several more are scattered within arm’s-reach around her crib. If she wakes in the night, a fresh paci is always within reach.

Hendrix is beside me, and the two of us tiptoe to the door, quietly slipping into the hall and closing it softly behind us.

We hesitate, waiting. My heart beats quickly, and I look up at his blue eyes, ready to declare bedtime victory when the first of her hiccuped cries begins.

He’s ready to charge back through the door, but I grab his arm before his hand lands on the knob.

“Wait!” I whisper, barely above a breath. “See if she’ll calm down on her own.”

Standing on the threshold, we’re still as statues, listening. We’re so focused on whether or not she’ll cry again, I almost miss how close we’re standing to each other.

His luscious scent of warm vanilla woods wraps around me, and much like my baby girl, I want to lean forward and bury my nose in his chest. He really does smell divine.

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