Without You

– Scotch –

So Fuckin’ Cozy

My apartment is lit up like Times Square, and the sounds of laughter travels outside despite the fact the windows and doors are shut to keep out the cold.

I stand in the parking lot at the bottom of my outside stairs, as snow steadily falls and moistens my hair, and I watch the apartment as fog moves past my lips on every exhale. My hair hangs in my eyes and tickles my ears. The cold breeze sends small flurries of snow around in tiny cyclones, and the fingers of cold send shivers running beneath my coat.

It’s eleven at night, and like last night, I was planning on sneaking in between Lily’s feeds. Sammy said she wakes her at midnight, three, and six, so last night I snuck in at eleven, set my alarm, napped, then snuck out again at five.

I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to hold her pretty baby and feel the painful splinters in my heart.

I ran around the lake for more than an hour this morning, and even risked my sister’s wrath by turning up at her place so early. I needed a shower. And coffee. I needed family.

When Lily woke in the night and gave Sammy trouble with her loud cries, my hands itched to hold her – so I snuck out when I could and I held Charlie instead. I’m allowed to love him freely, and I never have to worry about him being taken away from me. I didn’t tell Britt why I was there except to say I wanted coffee and a hug, and she didn’t ask. She took the opportunity to have a hot shower while someone else held her baby, then she came back downstairs and stared at me curiously.

I probably should tell Britt that Sammy’s in town before she finds out some other way. Britt was only nine or so when my life collapsed in on itself. Old enough to remember my devastation. Too young to truly know the details. She’s never been quiet on her unfiltered hate when it comes to Sammy, so ironically, if Britt comes across her in town, it’s Sammy who I’d have to protect.

That’s just how fucking cruel the universe likes to be to me.

My eyes narrow when I hear the strumming of a guitar coming from inside my apartment, then Sammy’s free laughter, and though my head begs me not to do it, I still move up the stairs and open the door.

“I’m just saying,” Luc says obnoxiously loud in the living room. “You knew she was here. And you weren’t gonna tell me? I came down to the shop today to hang, and you pretended nothing was up. Asshole.”

“Well it’s none of your damn business,” Angelo argues back. “She didn’t come here to see your ugly mug.”

“No, she came to see his, and he was a dick.”

I frown at Luc’s words. And my guitar that continues to be played. In all the scenarios where I imagined we’d all be in the same room together again, I never once imagined the guys would take her side so quickly. I mean, they’re my best friends, and they know what she did. They know she left me broken. They had to pick up the pieces.

In fact, like with Britt, I imagined I’d have to defend Sammy to the guys. I thought she’d have to win me over, then as a team, we’d win the guys over. But Luc’s bitter words have my stomach dropping.

“He was fine,” Sammy defends me. Yep, the universe is seriously that messed up. “He’s been very gracious letting us stay here.”

“Yeah,” Luc scoffs. “Super gracious. Where is he right now? Why’d he leave you girls here alone?”

I’ve had enough, and I especially don’t want to hear the rest of this conversation. I walk through my kitchen to the living room entrance, then stop as red washes over my vision. Angelo sits on the single recliner with a beer in his hand and his feet kicked up, and Luc and Sammy both sprawl out on the two-seater couch I know was in the garage coffee room earlier today. Luc sits on one end, with my acoustic guitar in his lap and his fingers strumming softly, and Sammy sits on the other end… with her bare feet in his lap and a nail polish bottle clasped between her fingers.

“Wow, Luc. You sure look comfy.”

Sammy’s eyes snap up to mine, then as she attempts to lift her feet away, his hands come down on them quickly and he holds her down.

His eyes meet mine lazily and his lips turn up into a cocky Luc Lenaghan smile. “Yup. I like it here. Super comfy.” His left hand pats her bare thigh just above the knee. She’s wearing little cotton sleep shorts and a giant sweater, and just seeing them touching in even the most platonic way sends bubbles of lava running through my veins.

“Sam--”

“Get the fuck out, Luc. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow night.”

He watches me with that smirk and a lifted brow. “Nah. I always loved this couch. Thinking I might sleep over tonight.”

“Lenaghan--”

“Crime stats have been up around here lately, Sam. People are getting hurt. Cops are getting shot. I can’t believe you just left these girls alone to defend themselves.”

“There’s literally one entrance to this apartment, dickhead, and a noisy ass set of steps leading up to it.”

“Not noisy enough,” he argues. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“If you had, you probably would have gotten her feet off your crotch, huh? And you might have stopped bitching about me first.”

He smiles arrogantly. “Nope. But I might have put your guitar back before you saw me with it. We all know how weird you are with these.”

“I’m sorry for having people over,” Sammy murmurs. “I mean, I know they’re your friends, but still, I ran into Luc today and he wanted to come up and play with Lily.”

“You don’t have to apologize for us, Sammy. We’re his brothers, and we’ve earned the right to come and go as we please.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were staying out again,” she continues shyly. “And it was late, so I didn’t say no when Luc and Ang wanted to hang out.”

She’s trying to apologize. I get it. I nod quickly, then ignore her long creamy legs that are out for everyone to see. I drop my attitude and look back into Luc’s eyes. “I’m here. You can go.”

He watches me a moment longer, but with his own small nod, he releases Sammy and sets the guitar on the floor so it leans against the shitty old couch. Luc stands and pats down the pants of his work uniform, then looking back up, he steps up to me and spits out through gritted teeth, “We need to talk.”

“Luc--”

He turns to Sammy and winks. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, Soda. Squeak slept like a rock the whole time we’ve been here, so I was robbed of snuggles. I’ll be back tomorrow to collect.” He turns back to me and slams his shoulder into mine on his way past. I sigh, but since neither Angelo nor Sammy seem inclined to stop us, I turn and follow him through the kitchen and down the back stairs into the freezing cold.

“Really? You needed to come all the way outside for this?”

Luc turns with fire in his eyes. “I’d break my hand on your face right now if I could, asshole. But it turns out you need to look respectable when you have those appointments with the adoption people.”

“Luc--”

“So instead I’ll hit you where it hurts. Her ankle is all bruised up because of you. I could almost see your laces imprinted in her skin. That’s why her leg was on me – because I forced her to show me. If you hurt her again, whether it was accidental or not, I’ll make it so they never find your body again.”

“Luca--”

He steps back from me. “You’re better than that.”

Shame washes through my body, then shame turns to anger. “What the fuck is going on around here?” I spit my words out between clenched teeth, even as soft snow lands on my face and lips. “Why is everyone buddy-buddy with her? Do you all forget that she ditched? How is it she’s been in town for a matter of days, and I’m the bad guy?”

“That’s just it, Scotch. You’re not the bad guy. You’re not even a bad guy. But she’s still a girl we all once loved.”

“So because she’s a pretty girl, her actions are forgotten just like that? It’s that easy?”

“No. Not forgotten. Definitely not forgiven. But we’re also not kicking her while she tries to explain.”

“She hasn’t explained shit to me!”

“Maybe because you aren’t listening! Maybe she’s too scared to say more than two words to you. I’ve spent half of the day with her, and I tell you what, Scotch, she’s scared, she’s lonely, she’s still mourning the loss of friends and family she once had. She’s terrified of you snapping at her every three minutes, she’s terrified of losing that sweet baby, she was scared out of her brains for how I was gonna react when I saw her. And you should have seen her face when Marc spoke to her! Her voice literally cracked when she asked Ang if I was mad. She’s sleep deprived and emotional because Lily hardly sleeps at night--”

“It’s ‘cause it’s too quiet--”

He glares at me for interrupting his rant. “And she’s doing it all while staying in a strange place with a guy she thinks hates her. And she’s walking with a limp that she’s pretending doesn’t exist.”

Fuck.

“That guy who just stormed into the living room with anger issues, that Sam doesn’t really welcome discussion. That Sam is so far removed from the Sam she remembers, that it must be like she’s staying with a complete stranger. She’s walking on eggshells around you, and she’s walking on eggshells even when you’re not in the same building.”

“Fuck, Luc--”

“The thing is, I know that high school Sam and grown and grumpy Sam are the same guy. One has a broken heart, and the other never even considered the possibility that you guys wouldn’t work out – that’s the pedestal we all warned you about. One Sam was brave beyond stupidity, the other is bitter and sad. But underneath it all, you’re the same guy.”

“I’m not the same guy, Luc. I’m literally not the same guy. She changed me - when she loved me, then she changed me again when she left.”

“I disagree. I know you from both sides of the coin. You’re still you. You’re just not quite as willing to jump in with two feet. Which is good too. A little self-preservation never hurt anybody.”

“Every time I look at her, I see the Sammy that I love.”

“Funny. I see the Soda that we all loved too. Just talk to her. She’s still the same chick, but she’s older and hotter now.”

I swear, I’d give anything for them to stop calling her Soda. And hot. I step back from him as memories wash over me, battering at me like waves on a rock and bruising my heart as I remember.

“And she’s still the girl who aborted my baby and left, even after I begged her not to.”

***

Luc and Ang walk away from the back parking lot and head toward their cars, and I stand in the snow for a minute more as Lily’s piercing cries fill the air.

At least it’s nearly midnight, so she’s still somewhat on routine. I stomp up the back stairs and dislodge snow and sludge from my boots, then I let myself in the door and wait for the heating to defrost me. It only takes a few minutes before Sammy wanders in shyly with a squeaking Lily in her arms. She peeks around corners and freezes when she spots me. Swallowing nervously, she gauges my mood, and I bite off my curse.

Luc’s right. I’ve got her scared, and I hate myself for being such a dick. There wasn’t a chance in hell high school me would treat her this way.

Sammy holds up a bottle of mixed formula as she stands nervously at the entrance to the kitchen. “I just need to warm this up, then I’ll get out of your way.”

I nod and step aside. “It’s fine. Kitchen’s all yours.”

I step around the far side of the table to allow her room to move, but she doesn’t. “I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable in your own home, Sam.”

“It’s fi--”

“You stayed at your girlfriend’s house last night, and you tried to sneak in tonight. And now, you don’t feel comfortable in the same room as me.” She sighs in defeat. “I’ll make other arrangements for Lily and me tomorrow. I promise. We won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

My heart races in unreasonable panic. “You’re leaving again?”

“Not exactly. Not leaving town. I can’t risk Lily, so I still really need you. But we’ll make alternate living arrangements, and I’ll make this as easy on you as possible. There’s no reason why you should do this, but I’m really hopeful you still will.”

“I’ll still play along. It’s okay. The rest of her life is more important than something a couple kids shared for a year.”

She nods sadly and steps forward to deal with the bottle. “Yeah. She’s definitely more important. So, thank you.”

“It’s fine.”

She turns back to me as the bottle heats. “I’m done in the living room, if you want that space. We’re just gonna go to our room, and you won’t see me again until the morning.”

“You don’t have to hide away--”

“Tomorrow, I’ll get us back into the hotel for a few days, then since we’ll be here for the next couple months, I’ll see about finding a temporary apartment or something for us.”

“Luc would probably have you.”

I was only kidding, but Sammy’s eyes fire anyway. “That wasn’t… I’m not--”

“I was joking, relax.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks warm and a sweet blush flushes across her face. “I remember what happened when Marc thought Meg was friend shopping. I didn’t want to get into more trouble.”

I lean against the wall opposite hers and cross my ankles. “Meg… That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. How’s she doing these days?”

The warmer beeps and Sammy turns away from me, but she shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t actually know. She and I haven’t really kept in touch.” She tests the warm milk on her arm, juggling the baby and the bottle awkwardly, but once she’s satisfied, she turns back toward the living room. I follow her in and watch as she awkwardly looks around the room.

“It’s okay, sit down. Feed her out here.”

Sammy nods shyly. Lowering gingerly onto the long couch, Lily’s squeaking turns up several notches as she begins chugging the formula.

“She’s married now.” When my eyes come up to hers, Sammy clarifies, “Meg is. Last I checked, she was married to a lawyer type.”

“Most lawyers are assholes.”

She laughs softly. “Can’t say I disagree with you there.”

“So you really don’t keep in contact? You guys were basically inseparable once she moved here. She left not long after you, so we assumed you both took off to live the socialite life together.”

Sammy’s eyes flash with hurt, but she tamps it down quickly. “No. We text once a year. She asked me to be in her wedding – but I declined. She and I had a fight a long time ago. It was my fault, but I felt like I was being judged, so I distanced myself. Before I knew it, a year goes by between texts.”

“What did you fight about?”

She watches me for a long minute, hesitating before finally answering, “You… She felt like I was making the wrong choice by leaving. She was nagging me to come back.”

“Well shit.” I can’t say Meg was wrong.

“Yeah… Anyway. We went off to different schools, our texts dwindled, and that was that. Now we just send a happy birthday text once a year.”

I slowly approach the opposite end of the long couch. When she doesn’t scream or cry or run away, I sit down gently and pick up my guitar for something to keep my hands busy. Resting it on my lap in the way that’s as familiar as breathing, I look up and meet Sammy’s eyes, but my fingers move freely and play by feel. “What did you study at school?”

She smiles softly, tapping the side of the half empty bottle with her fingernail. “Psychology and social work… among other things.”

I nod and look back down to my hands. “Just like you always planned.”

“For the most part. The reality of working with families isn’t quite the same as the fantasies of a teenager with notions of saving the world.”

My fingers slide up the neck of the smooth instrument I know like I know my limbs. “That’s pretty much how it goes.”

“But I still get to help people… I do the best I can. And that’s how I met Lily’s mom, so it worked out in the end. I can’t save everyone, but I’m sure as shit going to save Lily’s world.”

I’m impressed by Sammy’s mild swearing. She was always too proper for even that, and I smile as I continue to strum the guitar softly. It feels like déjà vu, except back in high school, we’d be touching; leaning on each other, lying on each other, even her feet in my lap the way they were in Luc’s earlier.

Lily sucks the bottle dry, so removing it from her lips, Sammy looks around awkwardly for a place to sit it. I hold my hand out in offer, and after a long pause, she gingerly passes it to me. She picks the baby up and starts patting her back as tiny little bubbles make their way up her throat. “What did you do after… for school?”

“I screwed around a bit. Travelled. Moped. Then once I made up my mind, I went to law school.”

Her eyes snap up. “Law school?”

I laugh at her embarrassed smile. “You’re still right, most lawyers are assholes. I got my degree, passed the bar, told your dad to go fuck himself – in my mind. Then I went back for another year so I could work with kids too. Now I’m a guidance counsellor for troubled youth.”

Her grin grows quickly. “You are? Is that a hard job?”

I shrug. “Similar to yours. I do my best, I try and help. I win some, I lose some.”

“You have more wins than losses?”

Mac’s smiling face flashes through my mind. “Lately? Yeah. I’m having some wins at work.”

She continues to pat Lily’s back as Lily’s head lolls around lazily. “I’m really pleased to hear that, Sam. Do you guys still play music?”

I look down at my guitar and nod. “Yup, we do. We’ll never stop.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah. All of us. We still play. We have a regular gig at a local club here in town. We do that a couple nights a week.”

“Did Marc and Kari…” She pauses for a long beat as she considers her words. “They’re good? Does she still live around here?”

“Yeah. Kari went off to nursing school after graduation. She was gone for a couple years, but she was only in the city, so she was home weekends and most summers. No way in hell was Marc letting her go further than that. She’s back now, and she works for the same hospital as Luc. And Marc moved into his own place not long after graduation. He didn’t have to, but he’s always been about independence.”

“Yeah… What does he do?”

“He works with wood. He makes things… tables, rocking chairs, cabinets, that sorta stuff. He’s made a few houses too, but I figure he prefers the smaller things that go inside, since that’s what he does most.”

Sammy nods contemplatively, but then Lily lets out a burp louder than anything I’ve ever heard in my life – and Britt is an impressive burper. Sammy smiles magnificently. “That’s my girl.”

She stands with the baby in her arms, and a small, fluffy blanket falls to the floor. I lean past my guitar and pick it up, and we’re both careful not to brush fingers as I pass it to her.

It occurs to me that, apart from accidentally kicking her, I’ve not touched her yet since she’s been back. My mind spins as she walks toward the spare room with Lily in her arms, and I wonder about all things Sammy. I wonder if she feels the same. Does she feel different? Is she softer? Firmer? Her breasts have grown, I know that from looking, but how do they feel? I wonder if her hair still smells like sweet candy. And if she’d still have the urge to jut her chin out until I leaned down and our noses touched.

I sit back again and start playing, because it’s the only thing that has simultaneously calmed me and psyched me up over the years. Music has helped me process the magnitude of emotions that ran through me after she left. It even helped me work through my feelings while she was still here. For every ten songs I write, nine of them are about her.

Writing music helped me compartmentalize and order, and it helped me transfer frustration and heartbreak into something a little more productive.

Sammy is gone for a long time, and it’s at least thirty minutes before I realize that maybe she’s making good on her ‘you won’t see me again tonight’ thing, and maybe she’s gone to bed.

I shrug to myself, and because I know I’m not wrong, I continue playing anyway. Because Lily loves it. I know she does.

Sammy’s trying to provide Lily with a perfectly silent environment, but I just know that she craves the noise. And the music. She was born into a noisy hospital, where she stayed and was probably interrupted and poked and prodded non-stop for months. Silence probably unsettles her.

I play the song I drunkenly wrote for her, for my Rosie, and I think about my next steps. Sammy and I had our entire lives planned out once. We had careers we wanted to pursue, and a lifetime of happiness and kids and friends.

Ironically, we’re both kind of where we said we’d be – career wise. It’s like the universe knew having a baby at eighteen was just the wrong timing, so some greater power split us until it was time to meet again. But thirteen years of loneliness and bitterness isn’t so easy to sweep away.

I look up again as long creamy legs reenter my vision. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m just grabbing water, then I’ll be out of your way.”

I shrug and keep playing and watch her walk away. Her tiny sleep shorts made me angry and jealous and ready to rage earlier, but now, I smile and watch her legs and the slim thighs that carry her away. On every third step or so, when the angle is just right and she limps just right, I can see the smallest tease of ass cheek.

Yep. I’m a fucking creep. And she’s still pretending not to limp.

I set my guitar aside and sit forward on the couch, resting my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, and I wait for her to walk through the living room again.

As soon as her feet reenter my vision, I lift my head. “Hey, wait up a sec.”

Sammy is mid pink-panther pose as she attempts to sneak past me, but she stops and looks back with raised brows. I pat the couch beside me. “I know it’s late and you’re probably tired, but do you have five minutes?”

Nervously rolling a water bottle between her hands, she studies me for a long minute and bites her lip. She nods softly, then moves toward me. “Sure.”

I wait until she gingerly sits down on the very opposite end of the couch before I turn. “Samantha--”

“Are you going to shout again? Because I know this is your apartment, and I know I’m a bitch for leaving… it’s just, I’m so tired right now, I might literally sob if you wake Lil. I can’t do another night without sleep, and it’s already midnight, so I have less than three hours before I have to be up again, and that’s assuming she sleeps at all.”

“No, I won’t shout. I promise.” I nod my chin at the back corner of the couch. “Sit back.”

She looks at me in question, but I grab her ankle and pull it into my lap before she tells me not to. Running my fingers along the purpling bruise, she dramatically falls back into the couch and sighs. I run my thumb and pointer finger gently along the edge of the bruise, digging into the muscle, but gentling as soon as I near the sore spot.

“Sam--”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. It was an accident, I swear.”

“I know it was an accident. It’s fine.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not fine. Any man ever hurts you again, you do something about it, okay? Don’t hobble around only when no one is looking. If a man hurts you again, you rip his fucking dick off.”

She lies back in the corner of the couch, with her freshly manicured hand sitting on her flat stomach and the other in her hair, and a lopsided smile pulling up her lips. “Okay.”

I nod and continue to massage. “Okay.”

“Listen… Luc and I--”

“It’s fine. Luc’s my brother, and there’s not a chance in hell I even considered anything was up. We don’t do that to each other.”

“What about me, though?”

I look along her legs and up to her eyes. “What about you?”

“Would I do that? Do you think I’d date – or try to date – one of your brothers?”

My massaging hands work up her ankle, following the muscle and forgetting about the bruise. “I dunno. I wouldn’t think so, no. But it’s been a long time, and maybe you had a crush on Luc in school. But in my apartment, right now? No. I don’t think you would.”

Sammy pinches her lips together. She’s not entirely satisfied with my answer, and honestly, I’m not either. Because it leaves that chance… And I don’t want there to be a chance.

“For the record, I never had a crush on Luc at school.”

“Because he was a sophomore?”

“No, because I had you. You made it so that was enough.”

She’s trying to be sweet, but bitterness rages within me. “Obviously not enough,” I bite out. I push her feet from my lap and snatch up my guitar, and I strum the cords as Sammy scrambles to sit up after my abrupt stop. I play Rosie’s song, and think about all the ways I thought I was being enough for Sammy. I spoiled her with love and affection, attention, things. I thought I was more than enough, and she never complained. But she still left. “Are you in a relationship now, Samantha?” Is he enough?

“A relationship? No.”

“Dating?”

“I’ve dated, but nothing stuck.”

My eyes snap to hers. “You’ve dated? And you remained married to me?” You’ve dated, while I sat at home for thirteen fucking years and waited for you?

She shrugs without noticing my clenched fists. “I went on a couple dates, but nothing worked out. I was too busy with school to go out much, but after that, after school and when I started working, I got out a little bit more.”

I stare at the floor in front of me and my left hand squeezes the neck of the guitar tightly. “Sorry they didn’t work out.” Not sorry at all. I hope she was fucking miserable on her own.

She shrugs softly, and the neck of the over-large sweater falls off one shoulder, revealing the creamy white flesh that I so desperately wish I had the freedom to taste, and ink that I wish I could explore. “This is a pretty song. It’s new?”

“Yup. Wrote it recently for a girl I know.”

Sammy nods softly, sitting back on the couch again. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s for a pretty girl.”

“It’s for Nancy?”

I look over to her dejected face, and smile internally. She might not want me anymore, but she still doesn’t like hearing about me and other girls. Good! “Nope, different girl. Her name is Rosie. She’s beautiful.” I’m an asshole.

Sammy nods softly as she plays with her nails. “I don’t have to ask if you’ve been dating, since I already met Nancy. She’s beautiful too.”

“Yup. She is.” She’s also pissed at me because I finally replied to her texts with a ‘not interested. I’m sorry.’ “I left my list in the kitchen. When’s our first appointment?” Sammy looks up at me in question, so I clarify, “So we can get Lily sorted and adopted.” So they can leave again.

“We have an interview on Monday at noon. Does that work for you?”

“Here, or in the city?”

“Here. Shari’s lawyer offered to help organize it. She found a conference room for me, and we have a third-party mediator coming in to conduct the interview. It’ll be a representative from Human Services, and they’ll ask us things about our relationship, finances, health. That sort of stuff.”

“So we should probably get our story straight.”

She frowns softly. “No, I figure we can just go in with the truth… minus the separation.”

“The truth?”

“Yeah, high school sweethearts, married young, that sort of stuff. Minus the separation.”

I click my tongue and segue into a song I wrote for Sammy a long time ago. “Wouldn’t want that pesky separation to get in the way.”

“Sam--”

“Samantha…

She sits up again, patting her hands on her legs gently. “I feel like this is deteriorating fast, so I’m gonna go to bed. It was nice talking to you again.”

“Sit, Samantha. Relax. I’m not ready for bed yet.”

Her eyes are heavy and bruised with sleep circles. “I’m so ready for bed, I could sleep for three weeks and I’d still be tired.”

“So relax, close your eyes.”

Surprisingly, she actually does as she’s told. With a soft shrug of her delicate shoulders, she leans back again and rests her head on the arm of the couch. Bringing her legs up tight against her body and resting them against the back cushions, she rolls herself into a ball as small as she can manage – and she makes sure not to touch me at all.

I continue to play. I’m tired too, but I’m not ready for bed, because I don’t want to lay in the dark and think about her dating. I might spew if I go to sleep thinking about other men taking her body the way I used to. Was she as careless with them as she was with me? We were smart kids, and yet, our passion ruled us every single time and we forgot to use a condom. It’s no wonder she got pregnant. But what about now? Knowing what she knows, is she still as careless when it comes to sex? Has she had any more pregnancy scares in the last decade? Has she had any more abortions? Fuck, for all I know, maybe she has a couple kids, but not wanting to bring them here, she left them in the city with their father.

Logically, I know that’s not true. If she had other children, I can’t see her leaving them for a couple months to come here to do this. But her mentioning the fact she’d dated has my mind spinning, and I don’t like the direction its going.

I continue to play as my eyes grow heavy, but when I look over to find she’s fallen asleep with her chin on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs, I snatch up a blanket from the single recliner and wrap it around her. I continue to play, because I want to be her music box for now.

Both she and Lily want the music. The difference is, Sammy won’t admit it.

An hour passes and her body falls slack, her head falls back and her posture falls open. She turns her body into the couch, resting her face on her open palm, and digging her knees into the back cushions. Her toes unconsciously seek out warmth, and without her permission, they sneak toward me until eventually, she wedges them beneath my thigh.

I watch the clock and write new songs in my mind.

I have a bunch of new stuff to show the guys tomorrow night. They’ll know it’s all because of Sammy. They’ll worry, and probably talk about me behind my back, but they’ll also mostly keep quiet on it and they’ll accept the new material for what it is – great new songs.

As three a.m. rolls around and Sammy continues to sleep, I gently place my guitar to the side and stand up. Sammy’s feet instantly spring back up towards her body, so I tuck the blanket around her securely, then head to the kitchen to make a bottle. I’ve watched her do it a couple times, and the tin has instructions, so I figure I’ll be able to work it out. I’m not paying off a fancy degree for no reason.

I warm the bottle and walk toward the spare room, grabbing my iPod and a small Bluetooth speaker on the way past, then just as I walk into the dark room, Lily starts to stir.

“Hey Rosie.” I turn the music on low and smile as Marc’s bass comes in low and deep, then Ang’s keyboard joins him until the beat picks up. I can’t stay awake all night serenading her, but my iPod can. The band can.

I pick her up out of the portable crib Sammy must’ve brought with her, and another lance of shame washes through me. I literally didn’t even ask about her sleeping arrangements. A man would have asked. A man would have had a crib made and brought in. Instead, I ran away and left them to their own devices.

Lily’s squeaks grow louder, like she’s excited for her milk, so cradling her in my left arm and holding the bottle with my right, I press the teat between her lips and smile and fall a little deeper in love as she chugs it.

“So, you’ve found yourself in an odd situation, baby girl, but when you and your mama leave again, you should know that I’ll always be here, okay? I’ll be your daddy on paper, so don’t be scared to call me if you need anything. And don’t listen to your mama when she says I’m a grumpy old jerk. I’m only grumpy to her… well, and everyone else. But not you. Well, maybe you too once you start dating, but if you don’t do that, then we’ll be fine.”

Her tiny fists clench and unclench as her feet kick out. She’s in a wrap Sammy expertly spun, so I don’t dare undo it. If Lily shits, then we’re all in trouble.

I smile when the chorus of an old song comes on. “Can you hear that, Rosie? That’s me, and I’m singing about your mommy.” I chuckle softly as she continues to drink quickly. “I used to call her Ricci once upon a time. Rosie and Ricci, two stunning ladies.

“She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on, and I changed from a hotdogging idiot teenager to a man who believes in love at first sight.” I balance the bottle beneath my chin and stroke her chunky cheek with my fingers. “The guys didn’t believe me, and they were pretty much on the money when they said I was building us up for complete devastation when it all went to crap. But the ride in the meantime was amazing.

“Don’t fall in love too young, okay? You have all the time in the world for that… But if you do, find something like what your mama and I had. It all went to hell in a handbasket in the end, but the time we had was more than some people get in a lifetime.” Speaking the unlikely words out loud actually unlocks a sense of calm that washes over me. Yeah, it all went to shit, but what we had was so much more than some people ever get. Instead of being bitter about not having it anymore, I should give thanks that I ever had it in the first place.

“And even if I never see you again after the adoption is sorted, I still really want the daddy daughter dance at your wedding. I’m sorry your real father is gone, but I can be him. I can love you and protect you and make sure the hotdoggers stay away.”

It only takes minutes for her to empty the warm bottle, so setting it aside, I lift her tiny body and rest her face on my chest, and I start patting the way I’ve watched Britt and Sammy do before.

Tiny bubbles rise quickly, but her body remains taut and her legs kick out. I’m no dummy, so I continue to pat until eventually, she lets out a belch the size most grown men couldn’t achieve. “Atta girl.” I look her up and down in the dark room. I don’t know what pyjamas Sammy dressed her in, but she has a super secure white blanket wrapped around her, with little pink polka dots and a pink puppy’s head down by her feet. “Did you poop?” I lift her and sniff at her butt, but she smells fine, so I let out a breath of relief. “Do me a favor and hold it in until tomorrow? It’s not that I’m gun shy. I’ve cleaned Charlie’s diapers before. The thing is, I don’t know how to undo your blanket, and I’d have no clue how to do it up again, so if we can manage it, I’d rather not wake your mama.”

She doesn’t answer me, obviously, but she yawns and scrunches her face adorably. “Yeah, that’s a good choice. Sleep.” I rest her back in the crook of my arm and I sit on the edge of Sammy’s bed. “So I guess that means you actually already have a cousin. Charlie bear. He’s older than you, and much bigger. He’s gonna be a fighter, so he’ll look after you. Never be scared to call him, okay? He’s a Roller, and we don’t really like them, but they’ll protect you with their lives now that you’re one of us.”

Lily’s eyes flutter closed slowly and her eyes roll back as I chatter. I smile arrogantly. She needs perfect quiet to sleep, my ass. I gently place her back in the crib, then standing and cracking my back, I silently move through the door, grab my cell from the kitchen and set an alarm for a few minutes before six, then fixing Sammy’s blanket and fighting every instinct in my body to not kiss her brow, I turn the living room lights out and head back to the girls’ room.

I strip off my jeans and climb under the covers, and I inhale the sweet smell of candy shampoo. “Fuck.”