Page 146 of Tides That Bind

“That’s my way of telling you that you got your ass handed to you in laser tag.”

“It was two on one,” Harper reminds me. “Try playing offense and defense and seeing howyoufare.”

She yawns again.

“Fine. I’m hopping in the shower and then off to dreamland I go.” Harper grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go. “I’ll meet you there.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Dreamland.”

I take her hand in mine. “You can always find me there.”

Harper peeks over her shoulder at the stairs, but I don’t let her gaze linger too long. I tug on her arm, bringing her back to me so I can raise my mouth to meet hers for a quick kiss. Until we decide how we roll this out with Lucas, I’ve got to make the most of every opportunity presented to me and lower my expectations.

But because I never err on the side of caution, I kiss Harper again. A little longer this time.

“Go,” I mumble against her lips before releasing her arm, watching her walk upstairs with a pout.

It’s not unusual for me to focus poorly. Background noise, even light music distracts me. My eyes will try to bore a hole through a wall if I hear a TV on in the other room. But tonight, something else calls to me, even in silence. It’s the bookshelf that houses more framed photos than actual books. My head keeps tilting in that direction, away from my screen, away from the words I want to say but can’t quite express.

Thirty minutes pass.

Then forty.

And before I know it, it’s nearing midnight and the only thing that’s changed is how dry my eyes have gotten.

“Tomorrow,” I tell myself, like always. “I’ll finish it tomorrow. Hard deadline.”

I swear, I mean it this time.

I turn off my computer and stand, crossing the room to switch off a lamp that sits beside the club chair.

And that’s when I see the difference I swear I felt before. It’s the photo—ourphoto—framed.

I run my finger along our faces in the glass that protects what I realize now might be my most precious memory, back when Nate was gone, but not really.

Back when Harper wished it wasn’t me.

THEN

When I wokeup this morning, there were few places I imagined I’d ever end up. The first being, well, outer space. The other? The labor and delivery ward, leaning against the wall, looking around at people passing by—new and seasoned parents, doctors, nurses, a delivery guy with a huge vase of flowers. I’m wondering if any of them realize the guy breaking out in a cold ass sweat trying hard to not gnaw his already short nails off doesn’t belong here.

“You can go in. She’s gowned up with the monitor on. Baby sounds great. I’ll be right back to set up her IV.”

I gulp. “So it’s really happening.”

The nurse nods. “We’ve given her steroids to help mature baby’s lungs. He’s a good size already.”

I don’t know why, but in my head I was hoping they’d say Harper was overreacting.

The nurse tilts her head. “First time, huh?” She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder and I wonder if she feels the sweat pooling beneath my T-Shirt. One of her colleagues passes by when she steps back and she chuckles at her, “First time dads aremy favorite.”

“Oh, no—”

No, no, not me. I’m not a first time, second time, or third time Dad, I want to tell her but she’s already too far down the hall.

I dig my phone from my pocket. Nothing from Nate. I call Caroline. I call Claire. Both can be here tomorrow.

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