Page 27 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

With a deep breath, I lift my hand to knock when it hits me.

I didn’t hear Peanut crying, either. And if she’s finally sleeping, I don’t want to wake her up.

Not giving myself a chance to decide against it, I twist the handle and push the door open a few inches as memories of all the times Milo and I hooked up in this very room flood to the surface.

The late nights. His hands. The sweat clinging to his skin. Our conversations afterward. How he’d hold me against him, not bothering to ask if I’d stay with him but not letting me go, either.

I remember all of it like it was yesterday. Yet somehow, it feels like a lifetime ago.

Even though it’s still dark outside, I can tell his room is as clean as ever. Everything’s in its place. Not a speck of dust to be found. The sheets pressed and fitted. His closet door closed, though I have no doubt it’s organized to perfection. Ironic because ever since the moment we met, all I’ve managed to do is make his life messy. Chaotic. When he thrives on the opposite.

Folding my arms across my aching boobs, I squint my eyes and scan the dark premises again, a lump on the bed catching my attention.

“Sh…,” a low voice warns from the mattress, the room blanketed in shadows.

With my head cocked, I take in the big, tattooed biker in a dark T-shirt and sweats with a baby curled up on his chest.

“She shouldn’t be sleeping on her stomach,” I whisper, creeping into the room.

At least I remembersomethingfrom the hospital.

“She’s fine, Mads. I’ve got her.”

I pause, almost tripping over my own feet as my brain catches up with his words.

Mads.

My name.

Myrealname.

He hasn’t used my real name since the hospital when it sounded more like a curse than a way to address someone. And it hurts in one of the best ways possible, especially combined with the sight in front of me.

They look so cute together. Peanut all curled up, her little round bum in the air as she sighs softly. Milo’s hair is a mess, his eyes tired, but his lips form a soft smile. One arm is tucked beneath his head while the other is wrapped around my baby girl like she’s his entire world. And I love it. Hell, I almost feel like I’m intruding on the moment.

Maybe I should…

“You can come in,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Carefully, I step closer, chewing the inside of my cheek while committing the image to memory of an alternate reality where we’re a happy family. Where it’s normal for Peanut to be cuddling up with her daddy after a long night. Where it’s normal for Milo to step in and give me a night off so I can get some sleep. Where it’s normal for us to be in the same room without any cutting remarks or raised voices.

And even though I’m not stupid enough to believe it’ll last, it’s still bittersweet, and I try to savor every single second of it.

“How’d she do last night?” I whisper.

“Good. Drank four ounces about three hours ago, so she’ll probably be hungry as soon as she wakes up.”

“Okay.” I rock back on my heels, unsure what to do or where to go but not ready to leave yet.

“We gotta name her, Mads,” he adds as if he’s been thinking about it all night.

His gaze shifts from Peanut to me.

“I know.”

“Why haven’t you named her?”

“Don’t start this again,” I beg. I’m not ready to pop the bubble of perfection wrapped around us.

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