Page 86 of Bad Boy for Hire
Ant dipped his head. “She might.”
That was what was so fucking scary. What if he admitted how he felt about her and it wasn’t enough to win her back? Then he would lose her completely—both as a lover and as a friend. Then his kid would be swapped back and forth in silence because their parents couldn’t agree on the simplest of terms.
No. He wouldn’t allow it.
It struck him now that instead of being the knight who rode in to save the day, he had been hiding in the castle, surrounded by a moat of good intentions.
“I can’t do this the way I did before.”
“Agree. You’re wanting a safety net in place before you step up, but that won’t happen until you step up.”
“I was thinking it was more of a moat than a safety net.”
The side of Ant’s mouth curved. “Fine. You can’t build a moat around yourself and protect your feelings while not acknowledging hers.”
Ant polished off his beer and stood. “I have a delivery for you, by the way. It’s in the truck.”
Xavier left his half-empty, half-warm beer bottle on the coffee table and then followed Ant. In the bed of his truck was a different kind of bed—a crib, to be precise.
“You finished it.”
“You asked for a crib. I made you a crib.” Ant dropped the truck’s gate. “You said you were serious. I took you at your word.”
“I can see that.” The piece was solid, crafted from unfinished maple that would age beautifully over time. The carved leaves on each corner were Ant’s signature touch, subtle but meaningful. Symbols of something that would last. It belonged in a home, one with a family in it. Xavier’s family.
Ant leaned against the truck bed. “You know what the hardest part of making that thing was?”
“The leaves? Must have been a bitch carving them with a chainsaw,” Xavier joked.
“Convincing Lou to let me bring it to you instead of dropping it off at May’s. But you ordered it, and I told her that.”
“Lou hates me.” Women stuck together in times like these.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Ant said. “But she is Team May. If anyone deserves a team, it’s May.”
“A team, not a manager. Hindsight is a bitch.” Xavier slid his palm along the smooth woodgrain. “There’s not a splinter in sight. Amazing.”
“Didn’t paint or stain it because I don’t know your style—or May’s.”
“I’m going to be a father,” Xavier muttered quietly, letting that idea sink in. “When I created the Tipsy app, it was nothing but code and wireframes. Then came beta testing and all-nighters spent drinking too much caffeine. I didn’t truly know what it would be until it was finished.”
“Same as when I carve a sculpture. I want to make a wolf, but what I have in front of me is a tree trunk. That takes vision. That takes patience. Not being able to see what it’s becoming until it’s almost done is half the fun.”
“Like this crib—it’s solid. It’s real. It exists now.”
“But it’s not finished.”
Xavier met his friend’s eyes. Ant was right. It wasn’t finished without May’s input on stain or paint color. On whether it would live at her house or his. Or theirs. He swallowed past a lump in his throat, terrified and grateful at the same time.
“I don’t know what to say to make her come back.”
“That ain’t up to you. But you should let her know you’d like her to come back.” Ant clapped Xavier hard on the shoulder. He was the closest thing to an older brother Xavier had. “It’ll come to you. Maybe don’t plan ahead.”
“The theme of my life right now.” He smiled, and then his attention was drawn to the sound of an engine. A dusty black SUV advanced on him and Ant before pulling to a stop behind Xavier’s Range Rover.
Dean, as in the former beer brewer at Salty, stepped out of the driver’s side. He slanted a glance at Ant before giving Xavier a hesitant smile.
“Uh, hey. Sorry to barge in on you.” Dean approached the truck, noticed the crib, and then raised his eyebrows.
