Chapter 8
EIGHT
ivy
“I stink,” I said aloud, lowering my gaze to Baby Love. “Thanks to you.”
He opened his little mouth and let out a yawn, which made me smile.
I never really understood people’s fascination with babies. Sure, they were cute, but beyond that, they didn’t seem to offer much besides their presence.
But in Baby Love’s case, that presence was enough.
Before all this, I would have never decided to have a baby of my own. But after spending the last month and a half with him, I started to understand the hype. I got why people chose to have them on purpose.
Everything about him made me oooh and awww. The way he’d started trying to lift his head whenever I walked into his nursery in the mornings. The way he yawned—his little mouth opening as wide as it could, but still looking so small.
The only thing I wasn’t a fan of? His spit-up. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it always managed to get on me. The longer it mixed with my skin or soaked into my clothes, the sourer the smell became.
And today, he’d gotten me good.
“I need a shower,” I said, cradling him in my arms as I stood from the rocking chair.
It had been two weeks since I’d been to Free-Throw Nation’s office. Over a month since I’d covered an on-court game. My life had been turned upside down. Tomorrow, I had a meeting with my producer to discuss my future there—a future that, from where I stood, looked bleak.
I sighed, walking to the nursery door and pulling it open.
My goals before becoming one-half of Baby Love’s guardianship had been crystal clear: move up at Free-Throw Nation and earn a seat at the anchor desk.
But at this rate? The only seat I’d be getting would be on the sidelines at Baby Love’s future youth basketball games, surrounded by other moms and caregivers.
Honestly, I felt like I was the only one giving up so much.
Leo hadn’t changed a single thing since we became guardians. The only thing different about his life was his zip code. Every chance he got, he was in the city—partying, making club appearances, living his best single life.
He hadn’t even suggested a name for the baby. We were still calling him Baby Love.
On nights like this, I usually toughed it out on my own. Leo was either playing a game in the city, attending sponsorship events, or partying. Oddly enough, he was home tonight.
And that was a blessing, because I desperately needed a shower.
“Geoffrey?” I asked, peeking down at Baby Love. “Nah, you don’t look like a Geoffrey. Maybe Morgan?”
His eyes locked on mine, and a little smile tugged at his lips.
“You like that one?” I asked. “Morgan? Sounds kind of girly to me. I don’t know.”
Without thinking, I found myself in front of Leo’s door. I needed a shower—badly—and instead of knocking, I turned the knob and walked right in.
I hardly ever went into Leo’s room. Since he was rarely home, there was never a reason to.
The door opened easily, and there he was, sitting at his desk with his back to me. His head bobbed up and down, oversized headphones covering his ears. Muffled music blasted at full volume.
I passed his massive flat-screen TV and entertainment center, breezing by the sports memorabilia and awards he’d brought from his loft in the city. His king-sized bed was unmade—not surprising—and I didn’t even bother commenting on it.
As I got closer, I noticed the piles and piles of LEGO bricks scattered across his desk.
“What in the world?” I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.
Leo’s head snapped up. He jumped in his chair, visibly torn between lowering his headphones or hiding the LEGO bricks.
My jaw dropped as my smile widened. “Oh my God! Is your grown ass playing with Legos?”
“Yo!” he said, jumping to his feet and yanking the headphones off. “Do you not know how to knock?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off what he was building.
It wasn’t finished yet, but the vision was clear.
“Is this a LEGO Mona Lisa?” I made a shrugging motion with the sides of my mouth. “Dope.”
Leo glanced down at Baby Love in my arms, then sighed as he looked at the half-built creation. He ran a hand down his face.
“First of all,” he started, “I’m not playing with Legos. I’m building. Like the builders or whoever they are building these houses in this village.”
I snorted.
“Second of all, what are you doing in here?”
“I need a shower,” I said, lifting Baby Love higher in my arms. “He didn’t fall asleep like he usually does, and I can’t take smelling like sour milk anymore. I just can’t. I need you to watch him.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I need you to watch him,” I repeated, moving closer and holding the baby out to him. “He’s so close to falling asleep. He yawned twice—like Marta said babies do right before they knock out. But I can’t wait any longer. I keep smelling myself, and I’m gagging.”
“I… I don’t know, Ivy.” Leo scratched the back of his head. “I don’t want to break him.”
My brows furrowed. “Huh?”
“I’m not good at holding him.”
“Because you don’t hold him enough. Duh.” I sighed. “You’re always out in the city, playing games or making club appearances. I wasn’t good at holding him at first either. The only way I got better was with practice. Like most things.”
“Ivy—”
“You gotta start somewhere. Here.” I gestured to the chair he’d been sitting in. “Sit.”
“Ivy—”
“Sit,” I said, lowering my voice when Baby Love stirred.
Leo sighed, inhaling a deep breath and exhaling slowly before finally doing as I said.
“You’re a righty, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” I said, stepping closer. “You want to keep your left arm a little higher so you can cradle him, and use your right hand for extra support.”
“Aight,” Leo muttered.
I tried to fight back my smile but found it impossible.
I’d never seen Leo like this before. He was always making a joke, the life of the party, or the cool and collected LV on the court, even during the most intense games.
Seeing him this nervous—over something as simple as holding a tiny human—was adorable.
As soon as I laid Baby Love in Leo’s arms, Leo inhaled deeply and held his breath.
I fought back a laugh. “Will you breathe, please?”
Baby Love stirred slightly, letting out one of his usual baby sounds.
“He aight?” Leo asked, his eyes locked on the baby. “He sounds uncomfortable. Like I’m hurting him.”
“He’s just getting comfortable,” I assured him. “Relax and get comfortable, too.”
Leo adjusted himself in the chair, leaning back a little, relaxing his arms.
The sight before me was… breathtaking.
Leo was the quintessential handsome athlete: strong arms, broad shoulders, a chiseled chest. But his face? Perfect facial symmetry. That’s what made him an undeniable heartthrob. And yet, despite all that, I’d never seen him look as good as he did right now, holding Baby Love.
“There you go,” I said softly, unable to stop staring. “You got it.”
Leo’s eyes stayed on Baby Love. A small smile crept onto his lips as he watched the baby. “He smells good.”
“So good.” I giggled. “Meanwhile, I’m the one who smells like spit-up.”
Leo snickered but didn’t take his eyes off Baby Love. “He does look like Kendra.”
“Right?” I nodded.
“But the vibe is all Tyrell,” he added quietly.
It was the first time Leo had truly acknowledged Tyrell since this all began.
At the double funeral, he was solid as a rock—there for everyone, Tyrell’s mom included. For me, he stood strong as I watched them lower Kendra’s casket into the ground. Through all of it, I hadn’t seen him shed a single tear.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. There was something in the way Leo looked at Baby Love—so lost in the moment, his focus unwavering—that broke my heart a little. My eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Are you good?” I asked softly.
Leo sniffled faintly, bobbing his head. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I noticed around his eyes becoming red. Though my instinct was to ask more, I decided to leave it alone. When he was ready, he’d talk.
“Okay,” I said, pointing toward the door with my thumb. “I’m gonna take that shower.”
“Cool,” he said, refocusing on Baby Love.
“You good with him? You got it?”
Leo glanced up at me and smiled. A genuine one. “I got it, Ivy League. Go ‘head.”
I rolled my eyes, which made him chuckle.
I looked down at Baby Love to see he’d already drifted off.
“I can put him in his crib—”
“He’s good,” Leo said, his eyes back on Baby Love. “Go on. Enjoy your shower.”
* * *
2 weeks later…
I lay face down on my bed, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress.
An itch on my back begged for attention, but I ignored it. Too tired to even scratch it.
Last night had been rough. Baby Love had been dealing with colic for the past week, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
The ringing of my phone on the nightstand interrupted my moment of stillness, and I groaned.
Lifting my head to see who was calling felt like too much effort.
The past few days had been grueling, but thankfully, I wasn’t doing it alone. Leo had stepped up. After that night when I’d handed Baby Love to him in desperation for a shower, Leo had been more present than ever.
He’d grown more confident with holding Baby Love, no longer as nervous or unsure.
We were finally finding our rhythm when colic hit.
We’d discovered the issue during a late-night emergency call with Baby Love’s doctor—a luxury made possible by the trust fund. Instead of taking him to a traditional office, we’d hired a doctor who made house calls. They assured us Baby Love was growing well and thriving.
But knowing didn’t make those nights easier.
It was like clockwork. Midnight would strike, and Baby Love would cry. And cry. And cry. It didn’t stop until dawn began breaking over the horizon.
Leo and I tag-teamed, rocking him for hours, taking turns dozing off and risking dropping him. Last night had been one of the hardest.
The phone stopped ringing, only to start again.
“What?” I groaned into my pillow. “Go away.”
Finally having a chance to sleep, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even myself.