Chapter 10
Knox
Late Thursday afternoon the following week, I was finally sitting down to reread earlier chapters, trying to catch up on my writing for the first time since Juniper had crashed on the scene like a meteorite.
Ava had been understanding and accommodating, but we’d only just started this cowriting career path. I hated to be the cause of us already being behind, even if I could acknowledge I had a valid excuse.
Quincy had settled in, and we were starting to establish a semiroutine between the three of us.
After living alone for years, suddenly having not one but two roommates was an adjustment.
Quincy was my opposite in many ways—she was an extrovert to my introvert; she preferred Hallmark and Bravo to my Discovery and Syfy shows; I’d started college before texting was common, and she’d practically been born with a phone in her hand.
Yet we got along well despite our differences.
She kept me on my toes with a mix of lightheartedness and irreverence.
I didn’t know what I would’ve done these past few days without Quincy.
She might be only twenty-eight and a late bloomer in figuring out her life plans, but with a baby, she was confident and knowledgeable, optimistic and capable.
She had a knack for guiding me while letting me figure things out myself to an extent.
She was going to be an excellent schoolteacher, in my opinion.
If Juniper was any indication, the kids were going to love her.
Tonight Quincy had the evening off so she could stay with her younger sister later on and had left early to run errands and bring carryout from the Dragonfly Diner for me—her idea, not mine, and I sure as hell appreciated the thoughtfulness.
I was puzzling over some nuances with my main character—I was writing the male lead’s point-of-view chapters, and Ava handled the female ones—when I heard stirring from the baby’s room.
We’d taken her out of Quincy’s room and put her into the fourth bedroom after moving the boxes out and purchasing a monitor.
Pushing back from my desk, I stood, rolled my neck, then headed toward the baby. She was only stirring so far, not fussing, so I listened as I approached to see if she’d settle back down, selfishly wishing for another half hour to ponder the character issues.
It wasn’t to be. Juniper let out her first coo and then a snort, drawing a smile from me. As I strode into her darkened room, I was struck by how fast life could change. Less than a week ago, those soft noises would’ve sent me into a panic.
“Hey, little miss.”
She was lying on her back, her feet in the air, and she angled her head back to look at me. It was the simplest response, but when those baby blues spotted me, she broke out into a grin. At me. The dude who barely knew what he was doing.
Though I didn’t pause in scooping her up, my heart stumbled in my chest at that grin.
Juniper was getting used to me, learning my voice. She was happy to see me after her nap. The wonder of that, of how it made me feel, was almost too much to absorb.
“Come here, Juniper.” I held her above my face for a couple of seconds, then brought her nose to mine, and she let out an audible laugh.
I’d never heard her do that before. “Did you just laugh?” I asked, bobbing her nose to mine again.
She repeated the sound, proving it wasn’t a gas bubble or an accident—she was laughing with baby joy.
For the first time, I understood what the saying my heart is full meant. It was a physical sensation in my chest, a light one, as if it’d been pumped full of helium.
I might be new to babydom, but one thing I’d learned already was that postnap happies didn’t last all that long before postnap hungries set in.
As I snuggled her into the crook of my arm, I lowered the side of the crib, which we’d borrowed from Quincy’s friend Tansy, spread out a baby blanket on the mattress, and gathered a diaper and wipes. I could tell by the weight of her diaper she needed a fresh one.
I laid Juniper back on the blanket and made quick work of the diaper change, impressed with myself even if the baby wasn’t.
When she lifted her feet again and grabbed one of them, I laughed, drawing her attention.
Then, before I could get the fresh diaper underneath her rear, while she continued to stare at me and smile, she wet all over the blanket.
“You didn’t just pee,” I said, all cooing gone from my tone.
She laughed again, and damn if I couldn’t help grinning despite the mess. At least she hadn’t—
Damn.
She pooped next.
Right then and there, with me with a front-row seat and the blanket below her already drenched, she let out her lunch and then some.
Holy sh—
This pint-sized human could make a mess.
With a glance at the wipes to make sure we had plenty, I shook my head and couldn’t help chuckling. “Quincy was right when she said baptism by fire. You like to throw me wrenches, don’t you, June?”
As she stared at me with those big, curious eyes, she strained and, yep, pooped some more, as if that was her answer to my question.
What could I do besides laugh, breathe through my mouth, and clean up the mess that was Juniper?
“Such a pretty name for a baby with such a foul behind,” I teased.
A few minutes, I had her cleaned up and dressed in a clean outfit. By the time I snapped the last button on the one-piece with a woodland animal print, she was tuning up for a good fuss. I’d taken too long to get to the feeding part, no doubt.
“If you want to get to eating, you shouldn’t poop all over yourself,” I told her as I picked her up.
I grabbed the blanket, saw nothing had leaked through, and congratulated myself on having remembered to put it down.
I carried it and Juniper out to the kitchen, dropping off the heavily soiled blanket in the laundry room.
Knowing she’d put up a royal fuss if I set her anywhere before getting that bottle made, I kept her in one arm and prepped her bottle with the other hand.
It was awkward, but I was getting good at it.
And wasn’t that weird as hell.
As I carried Juniper to the recliner and settled in with her and her bottle, I shook my head and realized I was smiling.
Life was bizarre.
Never would I have imagined I’d be sitting here in the living room of my new house, in small-town Tennessee, a baby snuggled up against me drinking a bottle, content. Both her and me.
I closed my eyes, listening to the soft sounds of her drinking and not at all minding the weight of her on my chest. This was peaceful.
I felt a contentment I hadn’t often taken the time to seek out in the past. Something about being forced to sit quietly, where the objective was to give a baby a safe place and a nourishing meal and nothing else. I didn’t hate it. Not even a little.
Would I feel the same if this became my new normal? My life?
Only time would tell, and that thought reminded me I hadn’t checked my email for test results since lunchtime.
Though Juniper was content with her bottle and not even halfway done yet, which meant if I carried her into my office, she likely wouldn’t mind at all, I stayed put. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to know the truth.
What if she was mine?
What if, from the time I opened that email on, I had a new identity as a father? Because I was certain that, if this was my biological daughter, I wouldn’t be giving her up.
In fact, if Gina came back for her, I knew I’d fight to keep Juniper with me for as long as Gina refused to get mental-health help.
If the test was positive, I’d be looking at eighteen years, make that a lifetime, of being Dad as much as I was Knox, maybe more. I’d always hoped to have kids someday if I met the right woman, but as a single guy, that hadn’t been foremost in my mind for some time.
On the other hand, what if she wasn’t mine?
I imagined driving this bundle of smiles and dirty diapers to some cold, institutional office building somewhere and handing her over and…
“Shit.” I said it out loud, then whipped my gaze to Juniper, as if she could understand.
I didn’t know if I could hand her over even if she wasn’t my biological child. How off-the-wall was that? In that situation, it would mean adoption, and who was I to think I could adopt this baby who’d been randomly dropped off with me and give her a good life as a single dad?
The thought was ludicrous.
And yet I couldn’t shove it aside.
Before I knew it, Juniper had finished her bottle and held it out to the side, as if to say, “Get this thing away from me.”
I grinned and took it, then sat up with her and breathed in deeply.
“What do you say we go check email, June?” I said it casually, as if her entire future—and mine—didn’t bank on a message that, whenever it arrived in my inbox, would likely be clinical, indifferent, and irrevocable, one way or the other.
I sat down at my desk, Juniper on my lap, and opened my email platform. Somehow I knew it would be there, yet when I saw the lab name as the sender, I couldn’t get a deep breath in.
After staring at it for a few seconds, I clicked. “No big deal. Just another email,” I lied to myself. “Right, Juniper?”
She’d picked up a pad of sticky notes and stuck it in her mouth, completely unfazed.
I scanned the report, not breathing, then gasped.
Probability of paternity 99.9999%.
I sat back in my chair, holding the baby securely with one hand, and rubbed the other one over my mouth. Letting the message soak in. Or trying.
“Wow.”
Post-it pad still sticking out of her mouth along with gobs of saliva, Juniper turned her head toward me, her wide, arresting eyes taking me in.
My daughter.
All I could do was stare back at her stupidly, reeling.
I was a father.
As many times as I’d turned over the possibility in my mind the past few days, you would think I’d be prepared for it, but no. Gazing into those trusting eyes, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the reality that I was a dad.
The sound of the front door opening and closing penetrated my attention.
I stood, pulling Juniper into my chest—Post-its, slobber, and all—and went toward the main part of the house. Quincy stood at the island with some shopping bags, including one from the Dragonfly Diner judging by the savory aroma permeating the air.
She met my gaze with her pretty, happy eyes.
“Hey. The princess awoke, I see.” Her gaze rested on me for a second before landing on Juniper as she lost hold of the notepad and it fell to the floor.
“Does this guy have you working for him now?” Quincy asked the baby as she approached. “Taking notes? Plotting books?”
When she reached us, she bent down to retrieve the paper and continued her one-way conversation with Juniper as I tried to figure out how to tell her our news. “You bring new meaning to the phrase sticky notes, sweet pea.”
Quincy wrinkled her nose as she held the soaked pad between thumb and finger. As she rubbed her knuckle lightly over Juniper’s pudgy cheek, I said, “I got the results.”
Her gaze popped back to meet mine, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “And?”
“She’s mine. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-percent probability. I’m Juniper’s father.”
Quincy grabbed on to my forearm, the one that supported Juniper. “Knox!” Her eyes had widened as she scrutinized me. “Are you… Are you okay?”
I took a slow, deep breath, considering the question. As I exhaled, I said, “Yeah.” Then a smile took over my lips. “Yeah. I think I actually am.”
“Oooh.” Quincy bounced on her toes, and the next thing I knew, she threw her arms around me and Juniper. My arm automatically banded around her and pulled her in. I tried not to think about the smallness of her waist or the feminine curve of her hip below my fingers.
“Congratulations, Knox,” she said into my shirt.
For a moment, I breathed in her floral, sunshiny scent mixed with the baby’s clean smell, and a foreign sensation stirred deep inside my chest.
Before I could think more about it, Quincy let out a sharp “Ouch!” and laughed.
I released her and peered down in question. Juniper had grabbed a chunk of Quincy’s long hair, which she wore down today instead of her usual thrown-on-top-of-her-head style.
“Juniper,” I said as I grasped her tiny, fisted fingers and loosened her hold. “That hurts Quincy.”
Once her hair was freed from the baby’s hold, Quincy stepped back, biting her lip, looking self-conscious for an instant, and then hitting me with a bright smile.
Too young for me or not, she was a beautiful woman.
Any man would be hard-pressed to stand this close to her, with her beaming up at him posthug, and not be affected.
“You,” she said, her attention homed in on Juniper now as she took hold of her hand, “are a very lucky girl. You got a good guy for a daddy.”
Quincy’s gaze flitted back up to mine for a pronounced moment. I shoved my free hand into my jeans pocket to keep from touching her, pulling her close again the way I suddenly had the urge to.
A second later, she glanced at the clock on the stove.
“I hate to celebrate and run, but I need to get going or I’ll be late, and I’ll never hear the end of it from my stepmom.
Your dinner’s in one bag, and I got Juniper some books in the other.
If you need anything, text me. I can bring Molly here with me. ” She hurried toward the door.
“We’ll be fine,” I told her.
“Congratulations again, Knox,” she said, then disappeared.
She closed the door, and the room became noticeably emptier.
I was just starting to feel more confident that I could, indeed, handle the baby by myself for the evening. What I wasn’t sure I could handle was this attraction to my twenty-eight-year-old nanny.