6. Leila
Leila
“ H ey, Gav? Where did you put the bouncer?” I ask, sticking my head into the living room. We’ve been trying to unpack for three days. I didn’t think we brought this much with us, but it feels like a never-ending battle.
“Pretty sure it’s in the nursery.”
“Pretty sure it’s not,” I shoot back.
The doorbell rings as I turn to check the nursery for the third time. Right on time, Kaia lets out a cry from where she was napping in my room.
I feel like crying, too, baby.
Gavin pops around the corner, already on his way to Kaia. “The kid from the grocery store said he’d just leave it on the porch. Sorry.”
I rub at my forehead, stress and lack of sleep triggering yet another headache. “It’s fine. I’ll go check.”
Hopefully, he’ll be able to get Kaia back down. She’s only been asleep for about a half hour, and this mama needs a break from the cluster feeds that still haven’t eased.
I sling the door open, ready to chew out the delivery guy for not reading the drop-off instructions, but then I freeze.
Oh so slowly, my gaze travels from the worn-out cowboy boots to the stacked and broken-in jeans. The gray V-neck that stretches tight over a well-muscled chest. Black ink peeking out of both sleeves, the intricate designs I used to know intimately.
I study the light stubble on his jaw, not letting my eyes travel any higher. If I don’t look up, maybe he’ll disappear.
“Hey, Leila Grace.”
So much for going poof .
Every possible emotion flows through me at the sound of my name on his lips.
Anxiety. Fear. Exuberance.
Hope.
Gavin’s footsteps and Kaia’s fussy whimpers sound behind me. “Was it the groceries? I think she wants another feed. She’s trying to eat me through my shirt. Doesn’t believe me when I tell her she won’t get any of the good stuff by latching on to cotton.”
I finally force my eyes to meet the man who walked away without a second glance. The one who has had my heart in his ironclad grip since I was ten years old. The one who promised me forever.
Drew Flynn.
Andrew Malakai Flynn, to be specific.
“Not groceries,” I finally choke out, although I know Gavin is close enough to see that for himself.
The fear and anxiety I’m feeling? It looks like it’s about tenfold on Drew’s face as he takes in Kaia’s tiny body against Gavin’s broad chest.
“Had an errand to run for Dad and was hoping…is that…” he trails off, his expression shifting to one of awe. It’s enough to kick my brain back into gear.
Grabbing Drew’s hand and pulling him inside so I can shut the door to the heat, I gently take Kaia from Gavin and promptly place her in Drew’s unexpecting arms.
“You woke her with the doorbell. You get to hold her while I prep her bottle.” I do at least make sure he has her cradled against himself, and when I say he looks good holding a baby? Our daughter? I think my ovaries just cried for another.
I hear Gavin guiding Drew to the living room and helping him settle on the couch. Should I have pushed her on him that quickly? Probably not. But I’ve played this scenario out multiple times every day for the last forty-plus weeks, and none of those times were smooth sailing.
It’s wild. Even through the heartache of losing whatever connection we had, I always knew Drew would be a great dad. He can handle anything, just like my dad always did.
Quickly pulling out one of the bottles I pumped earlier and setting it under the hot running water of the sink, I peek around the opening of the living room.
Drew is a natural, just like I knew he’d be.
He has Kaia curled against his chest as he gently bounces in place, bobbing a pacifier against her gums with his free hand as a distraction. It’s working for the moment.
By the time the bottle is warm and I step back into the living room, Drew’s face has morphed into one of pure adoration.
Exactly what I’d known—what I’d hoped deep down, anyway—would happen when he held Kaia for the first time.
I step forward and offer him the bottle, and that flash of fear that I see on my own face every day when I look in the mirror appears on Drew’s.
“I haven’t bottle fed anything more than a calf a few years ago.”
Gavin coughs to hide his laugh, but the crinkles around his eyes give him away.
“Go on, you big goof. Quit hovering,” I say, playfully shoving my brother from the room as I take a breath and let myself sink into the comfort Drew’s presence has always brought me. “Ignore him,” I tell Drew.
“Am I holding her right?”
“She’d fuss if you weren’t.” I hand over the bottle.
Kaia nuzzles into his arm before he has it turned, already smelling it. Girl loves her food, that’s for sure.
The silence grows between us, only Kaia’s suckling noises filling the room. I have more than a few words for the man across from me, but he searched us out. I stay silent until he finally cracks.
“You should hate me,” he says, his whisper pained.
“Maybe.”
“No maybe. Definite. I should’ve been there for her.” He looks up, those gorgeous deep-blue eyes filled to the brim with sorrow. “For you.” He looks back down in something akin to wonder. “I don’t even know her name,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.
“Kaia.” I look away, instead choosing to study Kaia’s little fingers as they grasp at her daddy’s hand for the first time.
“Maybe I should be bitter, but once Gavin told me about what you’d been dealing with, the hatred kind of fizzled out.
Like, I’m still angry at the situation. But you didn’t need the stress of my pregnancy on top of your healing. ”
His head is shaking long before I finish talking.
“I made stupid choices. Missing out on your pregnancy, on Kaia’s delivery, the last seven weeks.
The consequences of those choices…” He shakes his head again before his eyes find mine.
“I’m ready to live with that, but I’m hoping you being here, coming back to Havenwood, means that you’re willing to give me the chance to be better. Even though I don’t deserve it.”
“Do you think I’d have brought her here if I didn’t want you to know her? Drew, the whole reason I moved back was because I want you in Kaia’s life.”
“And what about us?”
I shake my head. “There is no us anymore,” I say, even as the words burn a Drew-sized hole in my heart. “We ended when you chose your brother over me. I’ve accepted it. Our daughter is the only one who matters.”
As Kaia pulls away from the nipple, already drifting off to sleep again, I hold out my arms. “Do you want to burp her, or me?”
The hesitation is back in his posture as he glances at me shyly. “How do I do that?”
As I walk him through how to hold her and where to pat and rub, I can’t help but admire how good it feels to be back in his presence. And that tiny part that I forced into hiding peeks its little head out, wondering if we could ever get back to where we were.