Chapter 11
TYLER
Denny comes into the living room with Ty’s diaper bag stuffed so full it won’t close and an armload of extras. He sets it all on the coffee table and looks at me. His hair sticks up. He’s shirtless—a fucking dream!—and looking a little harassed.
“I don’t understand how you’re supposed to fit all this into the little bag,” Denny says, frowning.
I don’t bother to point out that the bag in question isn’t little at all. Instead, I lean forward. “What did you put in there?”
He sets the three extra blankets on the couch along with a rolling mat. The bag is unable to be zipped, and he pulls the zipper back further to pull out the brand-new bag of diapers, a full-sized bag of wipes, about a week’s worth of clothes, and practically half of Ty’s belongings.
Then he meets my eyes, looking stressed and harassed.
It’s difficult not to tell him he’s fucking adorable. I have to chew the inside of my lip to keep my smile from overtaking my face.
“Here, come rock Ty.” Ty doesn’t need to be rocked. He’s in his cradle and sound asleep.
Denny takes my spot, and I empty the diaper bag—and all its many pockets—and begin repacking it with less than a third of what Denny had brought. He questions why I leave out most of what I do and follows it with what-if questions.
At least while my hands are busy and my head is bowed, I can kind of conceal my smile. When I’m finished, with room to spare, I turn to look at him. “I promise, you’re not going to be gone long enough to need even what’s in the bag. It’s just a well-child check. That’s all.”
Denny looks like he’s about to argue as he stares at the bag. His eyes meet mine, and he asks, “Will you come?”
My heart jumps into my throat. It’s in the way of taking a proper breath, and it feels stuttered. “You—yes. If you want me to, I will.”
His shoulders relax. “Yes. Please.”
I nod. “Sure. I’m happy to.”
It’s clear my answer takes some pressure off Denny. He looks at Ty, and there’s a small smile on his lips. I want to bite his lips.
“I’m going to put this stuff back,” I tell him.
Denny looks up and shakes his head, getting to his feet. “If you’re positive we don’t need it, I’ll put it away. I got it out.”
“It’s fine. I need to get ready if I’m leaving the house.”
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
His eyebrows are knit together as he looks at me. All over. Up and down. My dick twitches, and I turn away. I’m wearing the kind of pants where my cock moving around will certainly be visible. It’s just the material.
“I’m not appropriate for being out in public.” I gather the excess items into my arms.
“You look perfect,” Denny says, and I look at him. His eyes are wide as he stares at me and then forces a laugh as he runs his hand through his hair. “I just mean…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Never mind. Ignore the words that come out of my mouth.”
I really don’t want to ignore them, but he’s right.
I should. Sally’s fiancé. I can’t forget that.
I’ve been here for a week now, and I’m even more convinced that Sally didn’t agree to marry him because she loved him.
I’d already suspected that. Maybe because she thought that Ty needed both his parents around.
But this man is not her type. He’s my type.
He’s someone I could totally fall for. Someone that maybe I am falling for just a little.
Every time I see him with his baby, trying to be the best dad he can be.
Every time he does something over the top, like trying to pack all of Ty’s things for a doctor’s visit.
Every time he checks on Ty while he’s sleeping…
All the little things make my heart pang in my chest.
“When do we need to leave?” I ask, pausing in the hall.
“An hour?”
“Is that a question or are you sure?”
He looks at me, bemused. “I might need fuel. There might be traffic. I don’t want to be late.” Denny shrugs.
See? How fucking adorable is he?
“An hour,” I agree, fighting my smile. “Okay.”
“I should feed him before we go, shouldn’t I?” Denny asks as I turn away.
“If it’s time for him to eat, yes.”
“It’ll be a little early, but his feeding time is while we’re driving.”
“Then it’s probably a good idea. Right before we leave.”
“When we get back, he’s going to watch his first hockey game,” Denny says. “I need to get him a jersey.”
“Do they make them that small?”
He tilts his head. “No idea.”
His smile follows me as I leave. Winnipeg plays tonight, if I’m not mistaken, but I don’t think it’s home. I forget where they are. There’s been more on my mind these last couple weeks that I haven’t been keeping up with hockey.
I put away everything Denny took out and run through the shower. While I get ready to go out, I can’t stop myself from hearing Denny’s words run through my head over and over again.
You look perfect.
Yes, he followed them up with telling me to ignore him, but he said them. He also looked startled by them. Like it wasn’t intentional. That means they were instinctual, right? It means he meant them. They were honest.
Fuck, Sally. Why couldn’t you have left me something, anything at all? Why didn’t you tell me about this man? I’m beginning to think you didn’t tell me because you knew I’d want him for myself.
I’ve never wished more that Sally would have kept a diary than I do now.
Not only because I need to know what the hell she was doing in this relationship that clearly isn’t a relationship at all, but I wish I had her words.
Her handwriting. Her thoughts. Something that I could share with Ty one day.
Denny is where I left him, though he’s on his phone. His eyes flicker to Ty every few seconds, as if he’s suddenly going to become unbuckled and roll his way out of the cradle. When he senses me, Denny looks up.
I don’t imagine the way his eyes move over me. It doesn’t make my heart thunder momentarily. That’s all in my imagination.
“Do I look worse or better?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine, and I’m fairly confident a spark jumps between us. I certainly don’t miss the way he licks his lips and then shakes his head. “You look… good.”
“That’s a step down from perfect. Maybe I need to try again.”
“Tyler,” he says as I turn for the hall. I smirk as I turn, raising an eyebrow. “You look perfect regardless of what you’re wearing.”
My breath comes whooshing out of me. Jesus. Did he just say that? “I… thank you.”
I’d really like it if his cheeks were pink, but not even a little. Mine are instead. In fact, the small, satisfied smirk says he’s pleased with my reaction.
“Are you ready?” Denny asks.
“It took me twenty minutes to get ready. You said we had an hour.”
“Yeah, but what if there’s an accident and we need to find an alternate route?”
I chuckle. Fuck’s sake. I adore this man more every time he opens his mouth.
The hockey game is on in every room with a television, which is most of the rooms in the house.
There’s one in the kitchen that hides under the cabinets and comes down on an arm when Denny wants to use it.
The living room’s big screen is on. The smaller, though still large, TV in my/Ty’s room is on.
And Denny is walking around with his tablet in his hand to make sure he doesn’t miss the game as he’s between rooms.
I don’t hate it. I love hockey. I’ve always loved hockey. We’re playing Dallas, and the game isn’t great. We’re losing 2-1 so far. I have an idea that we’re likely going to lose today, and I’m a little grumpy about it.
During the second intermission, I finish bundling Ty up and bring him into the bedroom to lay him in the foldable playpen bassinet that’s set up against the wall. Denny is sitting at the end of the bed as he folds baby clothes.
I’m being generous by calling them folded. I’m quite certain that at least ninety percent are just rolled into balls.
He looks up as I come in, and I try to curb my amusement. He’s folding laundry. That’s a plus. Right?
I situate Ty in the bassinet and then turn to face him. He looks around the bed and then gives me a bemused expression. “Needs some work, huh?”
“No…”
He rolls his eyes. I sit on the bed with him. My weight makes three of the piles tip over, and he sighs. “I worked hard on those. Now I need to refold them.”
“Because they were folded already,” I muse.
I’m glad he knows I’m teasing. He tosses a baby towel at me, and I laugh. Our attention is stolen by the announcer on the television getting louder. Everything else in the room turns silent as we tune in to Dallas making their third goal of the night.
Denny scowls. “Fucking Dallas.”
Yep. I agree. We watch the game for a minute before turning back to the laundry. I watch as he folds, and then I re-fold everything so they’re not rolled into a ball. He doesn’t comment, though he watches me with amusement.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask.
Denny nods.
“Why were you marrying my sister?”
His hands freeze. I watch his face closely so I see when he glances in Ty’s direction. My heart hurts because that’s exactly what I suspected.
“It was the right thing to do,” he answers after a minute passes.
“So not because you loved her.”
He flinches as if I slapped him. When he doesn’t answer, I dig into my pocket and pull out the engagement ring I found in Sally’s jewelry box. Denny stares at it.
The silence that stretches between us seems to swallow the game entirely, so I don’t hear anything except our breaths.
“No,” he says quietly. “I…” Denny turns his eyes away from the ring and then sighs. “She told me she was pregnant. Of course, I’m an ass, and my first words were: are you sure it’s mine?”
I give him a half smile.
“She assured me it was—without slapping me, which I’d have deserved. She said she’d do a paternity test, so… we did.” He meets my eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know she’s not a shit person and wouldn’t lie to me, but—”
“Caulder Haines,” I say.
His shoulders drop, and he exhales loudly.
“Yes. Sally is not that crazy woman, but I think the entirety of public figures are now feeling scared of these false accusations. Anyway, when the results came back with almost one hundred percent probability that I’m the father, I said that we should probably get married. Sally agreed.”
“Why?” I muse, frowning.
“Because the world is loud and everyone says it’s the right thing to do,” he answers.
I shake my head because that question wasn’t for him. It was for Sally. Why did she agree to marry this man? Neither of them wanted it. I just don’t understand.
Why did you do this, Sally?
“I’m sorry,” Denny says, distracting me from my puzzle. I meet his eyes. He looks fucking miserable. So sad. So… guilty.
I’m not sure what comes over me except that his misery hurts my heart. Without thinking, I lean over the bed, upsetting all the precariously stacked rolled clothes and blankets, and press my lips to Denny’s.
There’s a moment where everything surrounding us mutes, and I think we’re both shocked. Holy fuck. What am I doing? What is wrong with me?
Before I can pull away, Denny’s hand is cupping the back of my head, and he kisses me in a way I never expected but have been secretly fantasizing about since laying eyes on him.