Chapter 11 #2
My son is happy, smiling, and content, and the woman next to him is…
more than I ever could have expected her to be.
This is supposed to be temporary, but sitting here watching the two of them, I can’t imagine anyone else caring for my son.
I know that’s not realistic, but in this moment, it’s what I want.
In a matter of weeks, she has us both under her spell.
What confuses me is that I’ve known Sloane for a few years now and have spent a good bit of time with her.
I consider her a friend, and never have I felt this need to be near her.
I’ve never felt this crushing need to hold her hand or see those brown eyes of hers light up with her smile.
I know we’ve been spending more time together, but this is more than familiarity.
Wherever this need came from, it came swiftly and quietly, and now, I need to figure out what to do with it.
It’s been a long day, and Camden’s power nap from earlier wasn’t long enough if the way he’s rubbing his eyes is any indication.
Sloane went up to shower and said she’d be back to kiss him goodnight.
I wanted to ask her if that offer of a kiss was for all the Sinclair men in the household, but refrained.
Barely.
“All right, bud, it’s time for bed,” I tell him.
“Swoan, wead,” he says, rubbing his eyes again.
“Sloane’s in the shower.” Wet and soapy without me.
Fuck, I need to stop this.
“Swoan, wead,” he says, his bottom lip jutting out as he starts to whimper. He’s overly tired, and to be honest, I am, too. Training camp has been kicking my ass, and I need to report back bright and early tomorrow.
“Let’s get your jammies on, and Sloane will come in and say goodnight.” Honestly, I’m not sure he’ll be able to keep his eyes open once his head hits the pillow, but he can be stubborn like his old man.
Picking him up, I make my rounds, turning off all the lights and making sure the house is locked up before heading upstairs.
My room is still in one of the guest rooms upstairs.
I’d been staying in the one on the first floor a few nights a week, until Sloane.
For some reason, knowing that I’m close to both of them if they need me fills my chest with a feeling I can’t name.
Not that I’m here a lot. Not the past two weeks.
I’m gone all day and crash hard at night, but still, we’re all on the same floor, close to one another.
I didn’t really know that’s what I was doing until earlier tonight when she excused herself to go take a shower.
I almost told her she could use the one in my room, meaning the main bedroom on the first floor, and realized it’s been a few weeks since I’ve used it myself, and it all just kind of clicked in my mind.
Even subconsciously, I was craving to be near her.
“Book,” Camden whines as we step into his room.
“As soon as we get you changed, you can pick out a book,” I tell him.
I quickly change his diaper and get him into clean pajamas. He’s getting so big. It’s hard for me to believe that on Tuesday he’ll officially be two years old. He talks up a storm, which the doctor says is advanced. To me, he’s the smartest kid in the world, but I’m biased.
Lifting him from the changing table, I press a kiss to his cheek and place him on his feet. “Pick out a book,” I tell him.
He toddles over to the bookshelf and grabs one of his favorites about a semi-truck that saves other broken-down trucks, and rushes back, handing it to me. “Swoan, book.”
“Let’s get in bed, and she’ll be in to say goodnight.” I don’t have to worry about her disappointing hm. With Sloane, that will never happen. I lie down in his big-boy bed, and he does the same, scooting all the way to the edge. “Come lay with Daddy,” I tell him, feeling my own exhaustion kick in.
“Look at you, already snuggled and ready for bed,” Sloane says from the doorway.
“Swoan, wead,” he says, patting the bed next to him.
“I think Daddy is going to read to you tonight, bud, but I’ll take a hug,” she says, stepping into the room. She crouches down and hugs him, but he won’t let go when she eases back.
“Swoan, book.”
Her eyes find mine, and I nod. “Okay, bud, I’ll read to you.” This has my son letting go of his hold on her. He grabs one of his many blankets and snuggles it close, his back to the railing of the bed. Sloane sits on the carpet next to him and opens the book, but my son’s not having that.
Did I mention he gets his stubbornness from me?
“No,” Camden says forcefully. I’m ready to intervene, but Sloane beats me to it.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks him.
He pats the bed next to him; the only spot available is between the two of us. “Sweep.”
Again, her eyes find mine, and I nod. Because hell yes, I want her in here with us. My son is a genius. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s playing matchmaker, but he’s two and just wants his favorite people in bed with him.
“Better do what he says. He’s ten kinds of cranky.” I smirk.
Sloane shakes her head at me but still does my son’s bidding and climbs into bed, settling between us.
Her back is to me, and she faces Camden.
Now that she’s where he wants her, he moves closer to her, snuggling in close.
She opens her arms for him and helps him get settled before she starts to read.
“Daddy.”
Lifting up so he can see me, I say, “I’m right here.”
“Mere,” he says, motioning for me to come closer.
Doing as he asks, I move closer to them, which has my front aligned with her back. Camden lifts up, crawls over Sloane, grabs my hand and pulls it around her, then snuggles back into his spot in her arms. Once he’s where he thinks he needs to be, he grabs my hand, and says softly, “Swoan, wead.”
“Um—okay,” she says, and starts the story for the second time.
I crowd them so that Camden can hold my hand better. My arm rests on her hip, and a smile tilts my lips. They say kids feed off your energy, and my son’s doing just that. Since I have an excuse, I mold my body to hers, and her breath hitches, but she keeps reading.
My body is relaxed, my eyes are closed, and I feel… content.
“He’s asleep,” she whispers. She starts to move, but my hand grips her hip.
“Stay.”
“Baker—”
“Please.”
It takes exactly six agonizing seconds—and yes, I counted them—for her to nod and relax into my embrace.
With my feet, I grab one of the blankets that Sloane and I use when we snuggle with Camden, and cover the two of us.
Camden’s already rolled over, wrapped up in his Nashville Rampage blanket with his stuffed Rowdy the Rhino in his arms. For the first time since I learned I was going to be a father, I enjoy the feel of a woman in my arms and drift off to sleep.