Chapter 14
Maddie
I wake to the smell of coffee and the smallest, happiest squeal I’ve ever heard.
For a beat, I’m disoriented—shadows of a late-night dream slipping away—until the squeal comes again and I register the soft thump of footsteps below.
Atlas is back.
I sit up, hair in a mangled short ponytail, and squint at the digital clock: 7:11 a.m.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stretch my back. I didn’t hear Atlas come in last night and, judging by the sunshine peeking through the blinds, I didn’t hear Grayce wake up either. The realization lands with an unexpected swell of giddiness.
I slept.
Like… slept slept.
Followed by guilt that I didn’t hear Grayce when she woke up. But Atlas did, and he sleeps downstairs and went to sleep much later than I did. The team flew back after the win in Boston last night.
Another squeal, followed by a deep, soft laugh that slides down my spine like warm syrup.
Trying not to hate myself for not being the one down there with her, I hasten to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and catch my reflection in the mirror. Despite the good night’s sleep, I look haggard. Ugh.
I pull on a robe and head downstairs, following the coffee scent like a cartoon character floating toward nirvana.
In the kitchen, I find Atlas on the floor in sweats and a faded Titans T-shirt, his long, thick legs crossed as he sits across from Grayce.
Her little legs are spread in a V, which is how she keeps herself balanced when sitting up.
He’s holding a stuffed giraffe and they’re apparently having a very serious conversation.
“And what did we learn about having core strength to make it easier to stand and walk?” he asks the giraffe in a mock-serious tone.
Grayce answers by grabbing the giraffe’s ear and shoving it into her mouth.
Atlas grins like he’s never seen anything better. “Correct. We learned that everything is delicious.”
My eyes roam over him critically. His hair is damp and finger-combed, his jaw shadowed by scruff. There’s a full pot of coffee brewed and a pan on the stove that smells suspiciously like actual food. He’s been busy.
For a second, the picture hits me so hard my throat tightens. It’s domestic and ordinary and… safe. Like this is just a Saturday morning and we’re a family.
Much like many of my days were with Gray back before he got sick. Not always, but often enough, I would stay the night in the guest bedroom. This was only if either of us weren’t dating someone, because our romantic partners always had a hard time understanding our close friendship.
I treasured moments like this with him, because it meant seeing Grayce have all the things I never did.
And so it continues, and that warms me like nothing has in a long time.
Atlas looks up and the smile that hits his face steals whatever air I had left. “Hey,” he says quietly, like the word is only for me. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I manage, my voice husky from sleep. “You’re—” I gesture at the scene. “Busy.”
“The queen requested a royal audience,” he says, tipping his head at Grayce. “I wasn’t about to risk treason.”
“I didn’t hear her this morning,” I say, the guilt in my tone evident.
“Kind of hard to hear her if I turn off the monitor so you can sleep in,” he replies breezily.
I’m shocked he’d do such a thing. What a kind gesture, even if overly high-handed.
I move to the pot so he can’t see the warm blush on my cheeks and pour a cup. A tiny sticky note hangs from the machine. Don’t drink coffee near Grayce.
Heat prickles my eyes for a completely ridiculous reason. Atlas made himself a safety reminder so he wouldn’t risk burning Grayce.
“You made coffee.” It comes out like a known revelation. “I mean… thank you for making coffee. And continuing to play with her for just a bit so I can enjoy it!”
His head tilts my way, eyes shining. “Not just coffee. I scrambled eggs. There was spinach in the fridge that looked a little suspect, but I used it anyway, along with some cheese.”
My eyebrows shoot up, amused. “Impressive. Is this because you won last night? Sweeping in four games turns you into a domestic god?”
He smirks. “Don’t get used to it. I was trying to bribe you into not making me do anything too strenuous today. I’m exhausted.”
Grayce kicks her legs, delighted by nothing and everything. Atlas steadies her again, all big hands and gentle touch. I sip my coffee and the first swallow gives me a zing of energy.
“How late did you get in?” I ask. “I didn’t even hear you.”
“Two, and that’s because I move quiet like a mouse.” He jerks his chin toward the baby monitor on the counter. “She fussed around five, so I checked on her.”
Embarrassment prickles and guilt gnaws at my gut. “I should’ve—”
“Nope.” He cuts me off, firm but kind. “You did everything while I was gone. I can handle a morning.”
My defenses flare on instinct, habit rising like stubborn reflux, and then…
they stall. I feel them, acknowledge them, and let them drop.
He’s not criticizing my competence. He’s sharing the load.
It’s new and it’s nice. It’s also still very weird.
Admittedly, a struggle to recognize, but I did it and I pivoted.
“Thank you,” I say, proud of my growth.
“You’re welcome.” His mouth twitches. “Also, the kitchen cabinet remains unharmed.”
“Oh, thank God.” I press a dramatic hand to my chest. “The cabinet and I were deeply concerned.”
He laughs, warm and low, and looks at me longer than he should. My stomach does a treacherous dip and my robe suddenly feels too thin.
“You look… rested,” he says, and surely he must be blind. There are dark circles under my eyes. “How’d it feel to sleep in?”
“Illegal,” I deadpan. Then I can’t help the smile. “Amazing.”
“Hey, check out this trick I learned this morning.” I watch as Atlas pulls Grayce onto his lap, keeping her in a standing position. She grips onto his index fingers, staring at him intently. “Ready to climb the mountain?” he asks.
She grins, blows a bubble, and with just a little encouragement from him by raising his hands up, she starts to move her legs. He leans back and Grayce pumps her legs in a stepping pattern. She climbs right up his torso, all the way to the top of his chest, and lets out a shriek of delight.
“Look at my strong girl,” Atlas praises and helps her reverse back down. His head tilts up to me. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“She’s going to be walking any day,” I say, pride swelling my insides.
Atlas lowers Grayce into a sitting position and she takes hold of the giraffe, gumming the hind leg with vigor. “We have eight full days until the next round of the playoffs. What do we need to accomplish?”
My mind whirls, accessing the mental lists I’ve been compiling. “Accomplish? You make it sound like we’re running a corporation.”
“Feels like it some days,” he says, eyeing Grayce as she gnaws the giraffe. “She’s the CEO. We’re just middle management.”
“True.” I sip my coffee, then tick items off on my fingers. “We need to restock diapers and wipes. I want to reorganize her dresser—she’s already outgrowing half her sleepers. And we still haven’t baby-proofed the outlets.”
Atlas makes a thoughtful sound. “Okay, diapers, sleepers, outlets. Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You need to stop insisting she’ll be skating before she walks.”
He grins, unrepentant. “That’s not coming off the list. In fact, I’d like to add Teach Grayce how to fist-bump.”
“Fist bump?” I scoff. “She’s not even eating steak yet.”
“All the more reason to start training early,” he says, curling his hand into a fist and bumping it against hers. She squeals like she approves.
I shake my head, fighting a smile. “Okay, so my list is practical. Yours is ridiculous.”
“Correction,” he says smoothly. “Mine is fun. Which we also need, unless you want the CEO to grow up thinking we’re boring.”
I laugh, surprising myself with how light it sounds. “Fine. We’ll split the list—half serious, half fun.”
He leans back, smug. “Deal. But when she fist-bumps before she crawls, you’re buying the champagne.”
“Champagne?” My brows lift. “For a baby milestone?”
“For us,” he says, eyes locking with mine. “She gets mashed bananas. We celebrate with bubbles.”
My stomach does an unhelpful little flip, and I duck my head toward Grayce before Atlas can see my smile.
I sip more coffee, watching the way his hand spans Grayce’s back, the way she melts into him like he’s a place, not a person. The warmth that swells in my chest is threatening to become a permanent condition, and the main thing I notice is that my grief doesn’t seem as sharp.
“I watched the game,” I say, trying for casual. “All of it.”
His eyes cut to mine, pleased and teasing. “Did you yell at the TV again?”
“I may have told a linesman to get his eyes checked,” I admit. “And I might have shouted ‘Move your feet’ at one of your defensemen like I knew what that meant.”
Atlas’s grin hits dangerous levels. “I heard you from Boston, actually. Very motivating.”
I try to roll my eyes but end up smiling into my mug. “You were good. I mean… you were great. Whatever. It was fine.”
“Fine,” he repeats, deadpan, but his ears are red. “Did you take notes?”
I set the mug down. “Don’t mock me. I have a spreadsheet.”
His laugh is full and delighted, and Grayce startles, then giggles like she meant to. He softens instantly, nuzzles his nose to her cheek. “Had to show off, huh?”
I swear I feel that tender tone in my bones.
He hoists Grayce into his arms and stands. We end up shoulder to shoulder at the stove while he scoops eggs onto two plates with his free hand.
Our elbows brush and I am acutely aware of how tall he is, how the cotton of his T-shirt pulls at his shoulders, how he smells like soap and coffee and sexiness.
“Sit,” he says, and I blink out of my stupor. “Eat. I’ll do Grayce’s bottle after.”