Chapter 13
Spencer
“Go-good. I-I mean . . . that’s good.”
Riley’s face flushes, and her neck is the same shade a second later.
Why does that make me so fucking happy? Ivy wriggles on my arm. Little lady is never still these days. I have no idea what babies do and when, but she is growing bigger every day.
Riley crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that all?”
“Yeah, O’Malley, that’s all.”
I drop my attention to Ivy. The last thing I want is to make Riley uncomfortable. She’s been a lifesaver, literally, for Ivy and me. I don’t want to give her any reason to leave.
I’ve lived by myself for the last ten years.
Before that, in my parents’ house, I was mostly alone.
This is the first time I haven’t felt lonely.
I didn’t know what I was missing, apparently, because these two girls are the first thing I think of when I wake up and my last thought before sleep drags me under every night. No matter where I am.
The weekend away on the circuit was a new hell I didn’t know existed. Each second away felt off. I was with Brades, but my thoughts were not on the circuit. They were on Ivy.
On Riley.
Coming home to see her at the point of exhaustion . . . it was too much. The feeling that I later realized was guilt had me reeling. Had me grappling with an overwhelming need to protect and take care of both Ivy and Riley.
Work is about the max amount of time away from the both of them I can cope with.
Jesus Christ.
How the fuck did this happen?
I lie Ives on the play mat in front of the TV.
My high-end coffee table that now doubles as a second changing station is pushed against the wall.
Ivy loves this space. When she’s not babbling to herself, sucking her hand, or rocking side to side, she’s zoned in on the people on the television like they’re the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
Who am I kidding, they most likely are.
I sink onto the sofa and watch her.
I feel like I spend more time on this damn thing than in my own bed. Than any other space in my life.
Ivy spits her pacifier out, and her little arms are waving around erratically as she starts her rocking, side to side.
I have no idea why she—
Her legs kick as she does a one-eighty.
Her face squishes into the mat, letting out a muffled pained grunt.
Oh hell.
I’m on my feet, hovering, reaching but not knowing what to do . . .
“Riley! Fuck, Riley!”
A door hits the wall, and Riley skitters around the corner of the hallway, sliding on her socks, hands bracing against the wall.
“Spencer! What happened?”
Ivy lets out a curdled cry, and Riley’s gaze drops instantly to the baby.
Delight stretches her face.
“Ivy baby! You clever girl!” Riley closes the space between them and drops to the floor at Ivy’s head. Ivy is snuffling at the mat, her face still rubbing over it.
“Ivy baby,” Riley singsongs.
And . . . holy hell.
Ivy lifts her head and squeals at Riley, who is now lying on her stomach, patting the mat by Ivy’s head. “Look at you, sweet girl. You did it!”
I run my hand down my face.
“So, I guess this is normal?”
Riley chuckles. “Yeah, Spencer, it’s normal. She rolled over.” Her focus drops back to Ivy. “Her first time! I’m so proud of you, baby girl.”
Ivy bends her arms, her mouth hunting for her fist again.
Riley rises to her feet and is by my side a beat later. Her dark eyes swing up to me, but I don’t know what to do with any of this. Emotion swells in my chest, but it’s more akin to grief over what I’m missing when it comes to how to love Ivy. How to be a good dad.
How to be a decent friend to Riley.
I suck in a breath and clear my throat.
I have so little experience when it comes to the people I’m supposed to love. Heat prickles my nose. My whole body tenses. My fingers curl and uncurl, my jaw feathers.
A hand lands on my biceps. A fucking tiny, soft and elegant hand. “Spencer, she’s okay, she just rolled over.”
Worried eyes study my face, making my throat bob.
No . . . No, this is too much.
I shake my head and turn away, striding for my bedroom before I can make a fool of myself. God forbid I let anyone in. Ever.
I sink onto the edge of my bed and shove my head in my hands.
I’m confident and relaxed around people that don’t matter. I defend the things I give a shit about, sometimes. But this is too deep. Everything with Ivy feels too big, too much.
And Ril—
A soft knock raps at the wall by my doorframe.
I look up to find Riley in the doorway. No Ivy.
“She’s okay like that for a bit?” I ask.
“She’s fine. She will also learn to roll onto her back when she’s ready. And she’ll start pushing up onto her hands and knees. She’ll learn to sit up. To walk. And to talk, Spencer. All of these things are good. You’re doing a good job.”
“We.”
“What?”
“We are doing a good job. And by that, I mostly mean you. I feel like by the end of each day, I finally have a tiny part of this figured out. Then the next morning, it’s like learning it all over again. Groundhog Day for first-time fathers, or some fucked-up shit.” I run my hand over my face again.
Riley sighs and crosses the floor. She sits on the bed and turns her body toward mine.
It’s the first time she’s ever been in my space. I’ve been in hers a few times. Lowering blinds and tidying up while she rests, etc.
But her in my space . . .
Every inch of me wakes up. A tingle starts in my hands and spreads like wildfire.
“By the time the year is up, I promise you will have this down. I won’t leave you to drown in the deep end. I promise.” Her eyes are tight, her hands gripping the side of the duvet. Her bottom lip tugs between her teeth.
I watch as the plump red lip slips free, imagining it somewhere else as she stares up at me, waiting for some kind of sign of life.
I manage a nod, and then she’s smiling as she rises from my bed and leaves the room. My stare is on the wall beyond the doorway that was filled with the fiery little woman who shouldn’t have my body primed without even a touch.
The scent of her shampoo hangs in the air, and I flop back on the bed with a guttural groan I feel all the way down to my bones.
Fucking hell, get a grip, Spencer.
“Absolutely not.” Riley gives me her back, her long dark hair swinging, brushing past her lower back.
“Come on. I can’t concentrate when I’m away from Ivy. Do me this one thing, O’Malley. Please?”
You would think I popped the damn question, the way her face tightened and she put space between us the second the words ‘come with me this weekend’ left my lips.
“She is not an accessory you tote around for your own peace of mind, Spencer.” She’s spun right back around, the knife she’s cutting the vegetables with pointed at me.
Thursday night. Chicken and steamed greens.
I first thought her meal planning was ridiculous, but with the chaos a baby brings, it’s kind of smart.
“And what happens when someone who knows you sees Ivy and me?”
My mouth opens, hanging before I close it.
I have no reasonable answer.
Riley lowers the knife to the chopping board, and I hate that I relax just a little.
“If your family isn’t supposed to know about her, I’m pretty sure having us at one of your events is a bad idea.”
I run both hands through my hair and blow out a breath.
She’s right.
Riley O’Malley is rarely wrong, I am coming to realize.
She’s smart. Fiercely loyal to my baby girl. And it appears that loyalty has been extended to me. As much as it gives me the warm and fuzzies, it still comes as a surprise.
“What if you guys stay at the lodge? I can come back after I ride. After the event. Nobody would know if I drop you there before.”
My gut turns over, twisting on itself. Why does that feel wrong in all kinds of ways?
Riley stops what she’s doing, and her arms hang, her eyes narrowing as she stares me down. “Of all the eejit ideas you’ve come up with. That one right there is by far the most hurtful.”
She abandons the food prep and walks from the kitchen, not looking back.
Fuck.
Heat and unease crash through my veins.
Fucking hell.
My forehead meets the counter. God above, I suck at this. I have literally no idea how to have what I want and keep what I have. Loosing a raw sound that sounds something like a wounded animal on the brink of their last breath, I close my eyes.
My fingers curl into my hair, and I haul in a breath that stretches my lungs until they hurt. Poor little rich boy, has it all and still can’t figure out how to love the girl who needs him most. Possibly who he needs the most.
“Ives is asleep. I’m going out.”
I snap my head up.
Riley walks past the counter, picking up her jacket from where she left it tossed over the back of one of the stools.
“Where are you going?” The words leave my mouth before I have the chance to filter them.
“Someplace that won’t cause you any shame, Lockwood.”
The door slams before I can fix what I broke.
Before I can tell her that I’m sorry. That I’m learning. That I’m stuck in the middle of the two things I want the most.
My phone buzzes on the counter with an incoming call, the screen lighting up.
Dad.
Fuck my life.
I answer and hit the speaker button before turning the volume down to half.
“Spencer. How big of you to answer.”
I stifle my groan, letting the eye roll swing as I say, “What’s up?”
“You were off Monday. What was that all about?”
“I had some personal things to take care of.”
“Funny, I thought the family business and the benefits it affords you were as personal as it gets, son.”
Son.
That’s hilarious.
It hits me . . . I’m someone’s father now. Someone’s dad. I’ve been doing this literally five minutes, and I can’t imagine ever taking the tone my old man is using with Ivy.
Maybe I’m naive?
Always a possibility.
“Spencer?” he barks.
“I have accumulated days off, I’ll make sure Majorie takes it out of those. Is there anything else?”
He’s quiet on the line for a moment.
“Priscilla is still waiting for her time with you. You may not take her threats as concrete, but believe me, if she withdraws her support and her circle follows, your job will disappear faster than you can say ‘penthouse,’ son.”
“Mrs. Princeton can go fu—”
The line goes dead.
Christ. Screw my life, kill it, and bury this shit on the wrong side of the grass. How is this how it all turned out?
No sooner do I toss my phone back to the counter, does it start to vibrate its way back to me.
Stacey.
With a heavy sigh, I answer.
“Hey Sta—”
“Spencer Lockwood, what the hell did you do?” she hisses.
Riley didn’t go too far, then.
Good to know.