59. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Brynn
"We need to tell him." Leo paces the length of the kitchen, still dressed in workout clothes from practice, sweat staining his gray tee like paint splatter. "I could barely look him in the eye at practice today. I couldn't even bring myself to shower at the training ground. I just grabbed my shit and hightailed it out of there."
I assumed so, given the incredibly strong smell that has permeated the apartment since he arrived home ten minutes ago. Thankfully for both of us—as disgusting as it might be—I quite like the smell of his sweat.
"Hey, it's okay." I push off the couch and join him in the kitchen, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my cheek on his back. "We can tell him this weekend after Issy has left."
Though, truthfully, I don’t know what we’ll actually be telling Alex. We haven’t exactly defined what is going on between us. We’re not in a relationship. There has been no conversation of commitment, we’ve never discussed what will happen after Leo no longer needs me to look after Salem, or even when that will be. And I hardly think my brother would enjoy hearing about the numerous positions his best friend has managed to twist me into since we started sleeping together.
But I’m not about to ask Leo his thoughts on the above. That would be a far too level-headed and mature thing to do, and I am frankly not capable of it. Blame it on my upbringing, but I’m not about to put myself in a position to be rejected.
He sighs, his hands softly covering mine on his chest. "Fuck, I forgot she was coming."
Pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, I gently tug him around to face me. His hips rest against the marble countertop of the island as he looks down at me, his eyes soft with affection despite his obvious anxiety.
I reach up and pull his ball cap from his head, settling it on my own. It's black today, with a white embroidered logo on the front and fraying edges. "This an old one?" I ask with an arched brow.
"You haven't left me with many choices, since you've stolen all my good ones."
On the rug, Salem is surrounded by colorful toys, babbling to herself as she sorts them into an order that only makes sense to her.
Leo's lips twitch, a smile tugging finally at the corners, as he turns his attention back to me.
I shrug. "Sue me. I like your ball caps."
"As much as you like my balls?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
Shoving his chest, I roll my eyes. He snags my hand, pulling me back into his arms, and I have no choice but to fall into him, stomach flipping as he cups my cheeks and presses his mouth to mine.
It's a sweet kiss, one full of tenderness and affection, his lips moving softly over mine as his thumbs brush back and forth across my face. I can't help but melt into him. It's like the world stops moving when he's kissing me.
But Leo is a man. And one thing a man knows how to do is ruin a good thing.
"I really need to find a new nanny."
I freeze. My lips turn rigid against his, my fingers falling still on his neck. "What?"
He kisses me again, trying to coax my mouth back open, apparently oblivious to the ice he's just injected into my veins. I shrug myself away, turning my back so he can't see the stricken expression on my face.
He doesn’t want me to be Salem’s nanny anymore?
I know his intention at the beginning was to find someone to replace me, since his trust in my childcare abilities were little to none, but I thought we'd moved past that. And sure, I've always known that this isn't permanent. I'd just assumed, since the bond between me and Salem is undeniable, that he'd keep me until at least the end of the season, even if it means my own career takes a backseat for a while.
I'm not ready to say goodbye. Not to Salem. Not to her dad either.
"You don't want me anymore?" I ask on a whisper, watching him over my shoulder.
His eyebrows twitch with surprise, his eyes softening into an expression of concern and understanding. A gentle smile pulls at the edge of his lips. He reaches for me, the tips of his fingers trailing a fluttering line down the side of my cheek. "Brynn, that's not—"
A knock on the door startles us both.
His fingers drop from my face, and I look down, running my hands over the cream cashmere sweater that Net-a-Porter sent me this week. I've tucked it into some high-waisted jeans and haven’t bothered with shoes. I’m uncomfortable enough as it is wearing denim to consider wearing shoes indoors. And truly, it's a shock for us all that I'm wearing something other than athleisure today, but I haven’t seen Issy for a while, and I don’t want to greet her with my nipples poking holes through my shirt.
Not that she’d care, anyway. But it’s nice to look nice sometimes.
Leo clears his throat. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks."
"I'll grab a shower while you say hello to your friend." He drops a kiss to my forehead and disappears down the hallway. “I won’t be long.”
"Hi."
Issy stands in the threshold of Leo's apartment, staring down at the child in my arms with an indiscernible expression. Her dark hair is wrapped up in a French twist, two curled tendrils hanging loose to frame her soft face. She looks beautiful…but miserable too.
Blue eyes meet blue eyes as they take each other in, Issy's brow furrowing as her gaze drags over every inch of Salem's face, from the soft fuzz of her hair to the baby fat in her cheeks.
On my hip, Salem clutches my sweater with tiny fists and buries her face in my neck, seemingly as unsure of Issy as Issy is of her.
Though, in all fairness, in the year that I've known Issy, she's never shown herself to be particularly maternal, so I wasn't expecting them to hit it off. I also wasn't expecting the tension that seems to be radiating off my friend, but jet lag is a real bitch, so she's probably just tired.
I tip my lips into a reassuring smile. "So, are you coming in?"
Issy shakes herself out of whatever trance she was in, returning the smile—though, it's obviously forced—and turns around for her suitcase. "Where should I put these?"
With my free arm, I motion her toward the room that used to be mine. "In my room."
"Oh. Are we sharing?"
"No." I chuckle. "I'll sleep in Leo's room."
Her forehead creases. "Then where will he sleep?"
"In his room." I pause, confused by her confusion. "With me."
She blinks.
I blink.
She blinks again.
Then she barks a sharp laugh, shakes her head, nods it, then shakes it again. "Yes, of course, silly me. So, my bags go in here, yes?" She opens the door to my old room, looking around at the green walls, linen bedspread, and soft wood accents. "This is beautiful. Thank you.”
She’s being weird.
I mean, she’s always polite and gracious—that’s not new. But her nervousness is. She’s always been quiet, gloomy on occasion, as if something is weighing heavy on her shoulders, yet she’s always conducted herself with at least some degree of confidence.
But I see none of that now.
She’s tugging on the sleeves of her sweater and shifting on her feet in a way that screams of anxiety.
Something must be really wrong.
Cautiously, I lead her back out of the room to the main living area. I watch her with a head tilt as she settles on the couch, her gaze flying across every corner of the space, knees bouncing, hands twisting in her lap.
"Dude, are you okay?”
“What?” Her eyes snap back to mine. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
My brows raise in disbelief as I bob Salem up and down on my hip. She babbles a sound that would be nonsensical to anyone else, aside from her father, but it’s one I’ve come to know well over the last week or so. " Dew. Dew ."
"You want juice, ladybug?"
She gives an emphatic nod of her little head, flapping her hands in excitement. It takes so much of her concentration to use her words, so much effort to communicate effectively, and it often leads to frustration when we can't decipher what she's saying. So, she loves it when I'm able to understand her. And her sounds have grown so much clearer recently that I'm blessed with the same joyous reaction more and more.
Grabbing her sippy cup off the coffee table, I pass it into her waiting hands. She sucks from it loudly until she's finished then throws it straight onto the rug. All the while, Issy watches on with something like anguish swirling in her eyes.
"Can I hold her?" she asks in a small, tentative voice.
I perk up. Maybe holding Salem will be what she needs to bring her out of her shell. I can’t say I’m not surprised, though. I’ve never known Issy to be interested in children, but Salem is cute enough to tempt even the most child-averse person into wanting to hold her.
"Yeah, of course. Fair warning, though, she’s only been raised with men, so she can be a bit temperamental with women sometimes. Just don’t take it personally if she gets upset."
Issy forces a terse smile. "She likes you, though." There’s no bite to her words, no snark or bitterness, just a sort of curious observation.
"Yeah, but she's had time to build a relationship with me."
I don't mention that Salem took to me the moment we met. Or how she fit so perfectly into my arms that day, looking at me as if I was the most fascinating creature she'd ever seen, or the surprise on Leo's face when he saw us together. I don’t want it to seem like I’m bragging.
Instead, I slowly lower Salem onto Issy's lap, kneeling in front of them in case Salem starts to fuss. Which she does. Instantly.
My hands fly out to take the baby back, but Issy shoos them away. "It's okay. I've got it."
I sit back on my heels, close enough that I’ll be able to grab Salem if there’s a problem but far enough away to not crowd them, and watch their interaction with interest.
Issy whispers quiet reassurances, stroking her hand over Salem’s hair. "It's okay, sweetheart,” she coos, her voice so gentle, her movements slow and considered.
I’ve never seen this side of Issy, but I like it.
Maybe she’s more maternal than she thinks she is. She’s certainly behaving that way. And Salem’s fussing has calmed somewhat, though she’s eyeing Issy with uncertainty, and her back is beginning to arch as if trying to put space between them.
"Brynn!" The urgency in Leo's voice has my head snapping in his direction. It also startles Salem, who starts to cry.
He stands halfway between the kitchen and the living area, still wet from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. The kaleidoscopic light from the sinking sun catches on his irises, lighting up the pure, unadulterated panic blazing within them.
“Leo,” Issy gasps, the sound ragged and laced with fear.
It doesn’t make sense, the way they’re both looking at each other right now: Leo with a dangerous fury, Issy with contrite trepidation. The tension, the restlessness of the atmosphere, the shift in the air…I can’t explain any of it, yet I feel it like a thousand daggers piercing into my skin.
"Give Brynn the baby, Bella." Leo's tone is tighter than I've ever heard it, as if it's a struggle to get the words out. He stands like a warrior, his teeth clenched, gaze unwavering on his daughter. He doesn't even blink.
Bella?
Did he call her Bella?
"Give Brynn the fucking baby!" Leo roars.
I turn to my friend, who’s looking down at Salem with tears welling in her eyes. "Issy, can you just give me the baby, please?" I ask gently, heart rattling against my ribcage.
She doesn’t move.
“Issy?” I whisper.
She raises her harrowing, pleading gaze to mine, her hands tightening around Salem. “Please don’t make me give her back.”
"Why?" I whisper, though she doesn’t need to answer.
I already know.
The truth hits me like a nuclear bomb, launching at me from the shadows as the afternoon light dims around us.
“You know each other, don’t you?”
Salem continues to wail, her sharp cries ringing out through the vast room that used to feel like home to me. All the while, her father stares at me with wild, unblinking eyes.
“Leo?” So many questions hang in that single whispered word.
He flinches, his features collapsing for barely a second, but it’s all I need. Just like Issy, he doesn’t say anything. But I guess he doesn’t need to either. The truth is written all over their faces.
And in the matching cerulean blue of Issy's and Salem’s eyes.