Chapter 6 Piper #2
“Really big,” Felix agrees, carefully setting her down. “Want to help me open them?”
She bounces on her toes and gives me that toothy grin. “Ewwie and Pi help.”
My heart clenches again, and I head to the kitchen for a knife to cut through the packing tape.
For the next twenty minutes, we work together to unpack and assemble the play kitchen.
Felix reads the instructions while I sort pieces, and Ellie “helps” by sitting in the middle of the chaos, banging toy pots and pans together like she’s leading an enthusiastic one-toddler band.
“Hand me that panel?” Felix points to a piece of pink painted wood. “The one with the oven door?”
I pass it over, and when our fingers brush, the familiar but still unsettling shock zips up my arm. I pull back quickly, nearly dropping the oven door. He catches it smoothly, his eyes meeting mine with a teasing glint that says he knows I’m not thinking about toy furniture at the moment.
Focus, Piper.
“This is about a thousand times nicer than the kitchen in my house,” I joke, needing to break the tension. “Which hasn’t been updated since my mom died, so the bar’s pretty low.”
Felix looks up from where he’s attaching the sink unit. “Yeah?”
“Scuffed cabinets, laminate countertops, floral wallpaper.” I tick off the list. “It’s classic.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He fits another piece into place. “It just means it has character.”
I chuckle. “A generous way to say it’s outdated.”
“I want my forever house to have character. To feel like people actually live there.” He adjusts the cabinet door. “I’ve had too many friends and teammates with sterile showroom houses.”
The phrase “forever house” hits me square in the chest. Felix Barlowe thinking about forever anything feels significant, even if he’s just talking about real estate.
“I bet your decorator in Denver loves you as a client,” I answer, switching to what feels like a safer topic.
“Everyone loves me.” He grins, and I realize now that I know it’s part of his mask, the cocky expression I used to find annoying feels charming. “I’m extremely lovable.”
Apparently not safe at all. “Keep telling yourself that, Barlowe.”
He winks, and my toes curl. “Spittin’ facts.”
Sure, sure.
He finishes tightening the last screw and sits back on his heels. The kitchen is even more gigantic than it looked in the photo on the box. There’s plenty of room in the cabin, of course, but it’s almost comical to watch Ellie exploring her new toy.
“How did you decide on this kitchen?” I ask, trying to hide my smile.
“I Googled ‘what’s the most expensive play kitchen you can buy’ and ordered it.”
I blink at him. “You what?”
“Go big or go home, Hart.” He shrugs, like dropping a stupid amount of money on a toy is no big deal. “Ellie Bean deserves the best.”
My throat goes tight. “Felix—”
“Don’t give me grief unless you want to talk about how I caught you watching me chop wood earlier.”
My face flames. “I was reading.”
“You were drooling.”
“I was not—”
“Practically panting.”
“Oh my God, you’re impossible.” But it’s true, and we both know it.
“Impossible to resist?” He waggles his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way.
I throw a plastic carrot at his head. He laughs and catches it one-handed, and a warmth unfurls in my chest that feels strangely like happiness.
Ellie chooses that moment to toddle over to her new kitchen, running her hands over the tiny oven door with reverence. “Mine?”
“All yours, Bean,” Felix says softly.
She looks up at him with pure adoration, then at me, and it’s like the three of us are doing more than playing at being a family. Like this could be real if we wanted it to be.
But Felix is trying to find Ellie a “real family” because he’s convinced he’s not father material. And I’m carrying his baby, a secret that grows heavier with each passing day. Each sweet domestic moment makes me stupidly hope that just maybe he could want this, too.
“Pi hungy?” Ellie asks, holding up a tiny pan in my direction.
“Yeah, sweetie. I’m so hungry.”
She beams and immediately sets to work “making dinner,” chattering away in her toddler language.
Felix and I clean up the packaging in silence, but I’m hyper-aware of his big presence, all that heat and strength. When we finish, he straightens and looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“Piper—”
“Fee! Fee!” Ellie interrupts, holding up a play hamburger. “Eat!”
He shakes his head as he studies me for another long moment before turning to crouch down next to Ellie. As he marvels over how yummy her dinner is, I escape to the kitchen, my heart racing.
This whole situation was supposed to be simple. A month of helping with Ellie, figuring out what kind of father Felix could be, then telling him about the baby and dealing with whatever came next.
But I’m quickly discovering that nothing about Felix Barlowe is simple, and I realize I’m not just evaluating him as a potential co-parent.
I’m falling for him.
And I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do about it.