Page 47 of Better Daddy
Her lips part, just the slightest bit, and she sucks in a breath. “But not tonight?” The words are whispered, and damn does the hope in them make my chest tighten.
“I promised to take T.J. for donuts in the morning.”
She nods almost robotically. Like she hasn’t quite caught up to our conversation. That’s okay. I know she’s not ready for all of this yet. I know I haven’t earned her yet. But I will. I tilt her way andbrush the back of my hand against her cheek. “Come home with me, sweetheart. I don’t want to spend another night away from you.”
The smile she gives me is the best response I could have hoped for. “I guess I could go for a honey-glazed donut.”
I chuckle and press a kiss to her crown. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”
Chapter 17
Sloane
There’s nothing quite like Christmas in New York. It’s the one time of the year when New Yorkers don’t mind each other. We all slow down—marginally—and every day there’s something new to discover. The light show in front of Macy’s. The windows at Saks. The Christmas tree at Rockefeller.
The air is crisp but not yet bitterly cold. Here and there, when the buildings block the wind, the warm scent of roasting peanuts replaces the chill.
The sounds don’t change much—car horns and the engines of the vehicles stuck in gridlock—but the atmosphere is overtaken by a sense of possibility. A sense of wonder.
This afternoon, I duck out of work early for my twelve-week appointment with my ob-gyn and wander down the sidewalk, soaking it all in.
My mood brightened, I take the elevator up to the doctor’s office, excited to see our little bear again. The instant the elevator opens into the lobby of my doctor’s office, I get a whiff of Sully’s cologne. Maybe I’m so attuned to it because pregnancy has heightened my sense of smell. Or maybe it’s because the man has burrowed himself beneath my skin. Either way, it’s like I’m trained to seek him out.
I kind of despise it. Being so aware of him makes it very hard to keep my wits about me. And hard to remember that we’re co-parenting only. Dancing with Sully the other night, laying my head against his chest and allowing him to press his lips to my forehead, had me keyed up all night.
It must be the pregnancy. Add how starved for human affection I am, that even a brush of his lips sets me off.
That’s a lie. I can’t blame my hormonal state for everything. In reality, it’s Sully. It’s always been Sully.
The hour we spent on the bench might have been one of my favorite hours of the last year. And I’ve replayed the words he uttered with such complete devotion in his eyes again and again.
There is not a moment when I would rather be anywhere other than by your side.
The craziest thing about that night is that I believe him. Sully wanted to be there with me. He wants to be here for me. My heart races as I acknowledge that fact.
Now, he strides toward me, eating up the distance between us quickly, his lips kicking up on one side. “I wish you had let me pick you up at the office.” He holds his arms out like it’s second nature to sweep me into them. But before he makes contact, he pulls up short. “You must be freezing from the walk.”
I wave my gloved hands. “The fresh air felt good. And it seemed silly to have you drive past this building to get me, only to turn around and come right back.”
A low growl rumbles between us as he shakes his head. “When will you realize that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”
In the past, I would have pushed back. I would have lamented the last few years and how little he was there for me.
After the other night, though, I trust that what he’s saying is true.
I have to trust that this isn’t just a phase for him. That he’s making changes to be a better parent.
So instead of my usual snark, I simply smile. “Thanks.”
His eyes, more blue than gray today, widen in surprise, but he quickly schools his expression and nods. “Shall we check in?”
After I’ve confirmed that the office has my new insurance on file—not the policy Murphy and Machon offers—we sit in the waiting room side by side.
“I don’t like that they’re paying for this,” he grumbles, his forearms resting on his knees.
Amused, I eye him. “You act as if Will himself is paying for my pregnancy.”
His scowl deepens. Yup, hit the nail on the head with that one. “It’s unnecessary. We’re married and this isourchild, and my firm provides family insurance. Why would you need your own?”
