Page 9 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

We.

I look back at him, but he avoids my gaze. Hell, he can barely string a sentence together because he’s so pissed at me, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Still…

I clear my throat. “They, uh, they have to make sure the car seat base is installed properly before they let me leave with her, which is a problem because…” I motion to the back seat, surprised when I find an exact replica of the one I’d installed in the back seat of my car sitting in the center seat of Milo’s. “Oh.”

Apparently, he’s thought of everything.

Without a word, he gets back in the car and shoves it into drive, pulling up to the front of the hospital.

Stephanie waves when she sees me, cocking her head to one side as she studies the man behind the wheel. The man she’s never met. The man she’s never bothered to ask about. The man I’ve never really acknowledged or accepted would be involved in this whole parenting thing because…why would he?

After shoving the car into park, Milo pushes his door open, strides over to Stephanie, and reaches for the covered car seat, snatching the behemoth off the ground as if it only weighs a couple pounds and stalks back to the car. Again, silent. And again, she looks at me with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” I mouth to her while I climb out of the car in hopes of keeping her from calling the cops on the bastard. You’d think he was raised by wolves.

“Milo, this is Stephanie.” I wave my hand between the two of them. “Stephanie, this is Milo.”

“Nice to meet you,” she offers.

He lifts his chin, a bit of his iciness melting. “You too.”

“Do you know how to buckle her in?” she asks.

Flinging the back door open, he points to the car seat base he’s installed. “I just snap it in, right?”

Stephanie crawls into the back seat and examines Milo’s installation. “Yes, this looks great.”

His stupid muscles bunch and flex beneath his soft black T-shirt. The one sporting the Etch ‘N Ink logo, the tattoo parlor where he works, as he sets Peanut’s car seat in the base. When it clicks into place, he tugs at the blanket enveloping her and looks down at her pouty little lips and smooth, porcelain skin.

Again, he doesn’t say a word.

He simply…studies her.

I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew whether or not he’s planning to hold my sins against her. I wish I knew if he really is Peanut’s father or if I’m imagining their similarities. Their matching dimples. Their matching eyes.

I wish I knew a lot of things, but I’m too much of a coward to dig into any of them to find answers.

“What’s her name?” he murmurs, his voice low and gritty.

“I, uh…” I rock back on my heels and fold my arms, kicking a stray pebble with the toe of my white Nikes while ignoring Stephanie’s curious stare. “I still haven’t decided.”

He shakes his head, closes the back door and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “You gonna get in?”

“Yup. Be right there.”

With a brisk nod, he turns to Stephanie. “Thanks.”

Being given a glimpse of the non-asshole side of Milo, she smiles. “No problem.”

His door slams shut.

“Well, I guess this is it,” I announce.

She wraps me in a warm hug. “Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”

“Of course not. Thanks again. For everything.”

“Anytime.” Smirking, Stephanie adds, “And good luck with…him.”

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