Chapter 25
twenty-five
. . .
Al
It’s late when I get home from the airport. My entire body aches, my side sore from a brutal hit late in the third period that forced me to miss the last seven minutes of the game. All I want is to crawl into bed and crash.
The hall light is on, but Riley’s door is closed. I poke my head into Emmy’s room and find her fast asleep, tucked in for the night in her sleep sack. Something in me settles at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully.
My room is exactly as I left it three days ago. Exhaustion weighing me down, I shed my suit jacket and drop the rest of my clothes into a messy pile and climb into my bed.
A part of me was hoping I’d come home to find Riley in my bed, waiting for me. As much as I’d like her to be splayed out for me, naked and ready for me, that wasn’t the fantasy. No, I wanted her to decide she wants this, wants me.
That was too much to hope for, I guess. I should have known my dreams don’t come true. It’s like a monkey’s paw curse.
Nothing has turned out the way I expected it to. All I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own, someone to love me unconditionally and support me the way my parents do for each other. The happily ever after they have. Their marriage is stable and unbreakable, the stuff of fairy tales.
My life is good, it’s great, even, but I’m not happy. I have a kid, but I missed out on the first six months of her life. I’m married, but my wife can barely stand to look at me. I should be over the moon, but instead I’m deep in my feels.
I don’t know how to fix this.
Rolling over, I punch my pillow a few times until the indent is where I want it to be. Even with my head in the divot, it still doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right anymore.
I don’t remember drifting off, but the next thing I know, daylight is streaming in through the gaps in the blinds. My eyes feel gritty, my mouth gross, and my ribs radiate pain from that hard hit. All I want is to stay in bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
Emmy wails in the next room, and I force myself out of bed.
Throwing the covers off me, I sit on the edge of the mattress for a moment until my equilibrium settles and I don’t feel like I’m going to tilt over onto my ass.
It’s close to eleven, which means her first nap of the day is coming to an end.
Padding into her room in only my boxers, I crack open her door to find her sitting up, pulling at the crib’s bars.
“Hi, princess.” As I reach into the crib, she grabs at me, and I bring her close for a snuggle. “How’s my favorite girl doing?”
My daughter babbles while I carry her to the changing table, kicking her legs against my stomach and inadvertently connecting with the bruise. I let out a sharp hiss, and it takes everything in me not to drop her at the explosion of pain radiating through my side.
“That’s not very nice,” I tell her as I get her settled, running my finger over the tip of her nose. “You’re supposed to always be nice to your dad. That’s, like, rule number one.”
“That’s a little advanced for a seven-month-old to remember,” Riley says, and I glance over to find my wife leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, her feet bare and her hair pulled into a knot on top of her head.
She’s absolutely fucking gorgeous, and I hate that I notice. My stomach clenches and I clear my throat.
“Gotta teach her young.” My voice comes out mostly even. I finish changing the diaper and snap Emmy’s outfit closed. When I lift the baby into my arms, I find Riley’s eyes lingering on me, her gaze focused on my side.
“What happened?” She nods to the bruise.
My stomach sinks. Of course she didn’t watch the game. I still haven’t asked her to. Aside from that matinee game, she hasn’t come to any of my home games, either. I’m afraid if I ask she’ll turn me down. Again.
“Just a bad hit.” I shift Emmy to my other hip, away from the bruise. It hurts like a bitch.
Riley sweeps her gaze over my chest and abs, then down further.
I’m uncomfortably aware I’m only wearing my boxer briefs, and even though my morning wood has gone away, her eyes on me make my heart race and stomach flutter.
The frank appreciation on her face is only there for a moment before she blinks it away and reaches for Emmy.
“I’ll take her,” she says, all but snatching the baby from my arms and practically running from the room.
“I’ll get dressed, then,” I announce to the empty room.
Trudging back to my bedroom, I immediately drop my shorts and hop into the shower before it even warms up. The cool water does nothing to calm my pounding heart.
She clearly enjoys looking at me. So why doesn’t she want anything else? Am I that repulsive?
My thoughts swirl down the drain, along with the soap suds, and when I finally turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist, the last thing I want to do is go downstairs and play happy family with someone who doesn’t want the same things I do.
I’m low-key dreading spending the day together while pretending I don’t want her.
But being an adult means doing things even when we don’t want to. And I’ll be damned if I miss out on more time with Emmy.
Downstairs, the baby is in her bouncer, kicking her chubby little legs. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a gymnast like my brother. Or a track star turned rugby player like my sister. I won’t say no if she takes a shine to hockey, either.
And if she decides athletics aren’t for her, I’ll support that, too. I will always love her unconditionally.
I tickle Emmy’s chin before heading to the kitchen. There’s a pot of coffee on, with exactly one cup left. After emptying the carafe into a mug, I take a sip and glance at Riley, who’s sitting at the Formica kitchen table with a laptop.
“What do you have planned for today?” I ask casually. It takes everything in me not to go to her, to pull her into my arms and beg her to be mine. I heard her loud and clear. Nobody likes a guy who can’t take no for an answer.
“Nothing special. Just playing and nap time.”
“Sounds like a great day.” A nice, chill day is perfect. As much as I’d like to get out and do something together, maybe hanging around the house is what we need. “I’ve got her for a few hours if you want to take a nap, or maybe a bubble bath.”
Riley’s eyebrows climb up her forehead. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
“Giving you space. You’ve been the default parent for the last few days. If you need a break, I’m here. I can handle Emmy today. You deserve some time to yourself.”
Fuck knows this weekend will be busy, with the team holiday dinner and then a matinee game a few days after.
A strange look passes over her face. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’ve got this,” I assure her. “Rest, relax. Do something fun for yourself.”
She blows out a breath. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Thinking about my schedule, I laugh. “Well, anytime I’m home, that is. If you want to revisit the nanny situation, I’m still game. It’s got to be exhausting being on duty all the time. Everyone deserves a break now and then. I want you to feel supported, not chained to the baby.”
She opens her mouth—to argue, most likely—but I raise my hands in the air. “Childcare is a full-time job, and then some. You don’t get enough of a chance to decompress when I’m not here. If there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you, I’ll do it.”
Whatever it takes to keep her from running screaming, burned out and exhausted.
Riley shuts her mouth, her nod brisk. “Got it. Thanks.” She closes the laptop, pushing back her chair. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
She stalks out of the room and up the stairs, her footsteps echoing.
My stomach sinks. All I wanted was to help, yet I think I made this worse. What the hell am I supposed to do now? How do I fix this?