Chapter 9 Piper
PIPER
When I wake, the light has shifted, late afternoon sun slanting through the windows and causing my heart to leap for different reasons than Felix Barlowe does.
I grab my phone from the nightstand. It’s nearly six. I’ve been asleep for three hours?
Uh, oh.
Stumbling out of bed, I make my way into the bathroom. This baby might be tiny, but his or her effect on my bladder is significant. I also take a second to splash cold water on my face, which does nothing to lessen the pillowcase crease on my cheek.
Is it possible that Ellie’s still sleeping? The sound of voices drifts up from downstairs as I check her bedroom and find an empty crib, which means I’m a sucky nanny, vegetable whisperer skills notwithstanding. I hurry down the stairs and into the living room, then stop short.
Felix, Tyler, and Ellie are sprawled on the massive sectional, all three of them staring up at the giant TV screen mounted above the fireplace where two animated dogs are doing something with a xylophone.
Bluey. They’re watching Bluey.
“For real life?” the cartoon dog asks, and Ellie giggles, clapping her hands.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” I say as Felix glances up at me. “I’m so sorry. I was supposed to be watching her, and I blew-y it.”
“Epic fail,” Felix agrees solemnly before rolling his eyes. “I’m joking, Hart. No biggie.”
It feels like a biggie. Because what if Felix and Tyler hadn’t heard her and I slept through her cries without the monitor in my bedroom? What if I fall asleep and inadvertently ignore my baby crying? Is that the kind of mother I’m going to be?
Whoa, cue the nausea. Only I don’t think I can blame it on hormones this time.
“How long did she sleep?” I ask, trying to sound casual and not like I’ve decided I’m the worst mom-to-be ever.
“About thirty minutes. I tried the whole going in and rubbing her back until she fell asleep again thing, but she wasn’t having it.
” He lifts Ellie to stand on his legs and she starts bouncing and jiggling like she’s on the dance floor.
“Girl is ready to par-tee,” he says with the besotted smile Ellie brings out of him.
“He’s thrilled leg day got cut short,” Tyler adds, standing and stretching. “But I put him through a decent amount of torture before the munchkin takeover.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat, mortified. “Taking care of her is literally my job, and I—”
“We managed just fine,” Felix cuts me off, his voice gentle. “You must have needed the rest. Tyler will be back to kicking my a—” He wrinkles his nose at Ellie, who’s watching him with wide eyes. “...Bum… all over the gym on Monday.”
Ellie giggles again. “Bum!”
Felix points to the television. “Bluey bum.”
Ellie shrieks with delight then drops onto his lap, curling against him. And despite my internal guilt trip, I can’t help but smile.
Tyler grabs his gym bag from the floor. “As much as I’d love to continue bingeing the adventures of painfully annoying cartoon dogs, I’m out.” He jabs a finger in Felix’s direction. “Show up tonight.”
“Not likely.” There’s an edge to Felix’s voice I can’t quite identify.
“What’s tonight?” I ask, not sure I really want to know.
“I’m meeting up with Mindy and some of her friends at a bar in town. Live music, pool, darts, people. All of which are normally right up Barlowe’s alley. Only now, he’s a hermit.”
“You know why,” Felix says through gritted teeth.
“You have Piper to stay with Ellie.” Tyler pulls out his phone, tapping the screen. “I’m texting you the address. Come out, man. It’s Friday night. You need to let the old Felix out of his cage for a few hours.”
Felix rolls his eyes. “Fudge you, Ty.”
“You’re not my type.” Tyler’s tone is dry, but he turns to me with a smile. “If he stays in, you’re welcome to join us instead. I guarantee a good time.”
Felix makes a sound low in his throat that sounds an awful lot like a Roy Kent-style growl, which is surprisingly hot. But he doesn’t say anything or tell me I can’t go.
“Thanks,” I say, even though the idea of hitting a bar makes me exhausted all over again. “I’ll think about it.”
As Tyler heads for the door, I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass of water before returning to the family room. Bluey’s family is playing some elaborate game that involves the entire house, and Ellie is transfixed. Even with the sound from the TV, the cabin feels too quiet. Too intimate.
“I should feed her dinner,” I say, needing something to do with my hands. “Do you want—”
“I’ll handle it.” Felix places Ellie on the sofa next to him then stands.
“I can do it, Felix. I’m capable of handling dinner.”
“I know you are.” One thick brow lifts. “But if you’re meeting up with Tyler and the gang, you might want to start getting ready.”
“How bad do I look that you think I need hours of prep for a night out?” I try to make the question sound like a joke, but the truth is his words sting more than they should. “And why aren’t you going?”
“You don’t look bad.” His jaw clenches, and he glances out the picture window that frames the valley. “Tyler’s right. I’m wound too tight, and now I’m projecting on you. Maybe I need to go out and get my head straight.”
We both know it’s not his head that he’s talking about, and something twists in my chest at the thought of Felix with another woman. Like I have any right to act or even feel possessive. So I plaster on the widest smile I can manage. “You should definitely go out.”
I move to the sofa and take a seat next to Ellie, gathering her in my arms. Felix and I stare at each other for a long moment, engaged in some silent battle of wills neither of us wants to acknowledge.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says finally.
“Great.” I force a brightness into my voice that coats my tongue in acid. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice single mom fangirl who can help with your head.”
His eyes flash with something that, if I didn’t know better, I’d call hurt or anger, but he just shakes his head and disappears upstairs.
The episode ends, and I carry Ellie into the kitchen, my thoughts churning as I heat up her dinner. This is good. It’s what Felix and I need—space, distance, and a reminder that this isn’t real. We’re just two people stuck together by circumstance…and a series of poor decisions on my part.
By the time I finish cleaning up the mess left from the toddler mealtime tornado—sweet potato everywhere—it’s clear that, thanks to her abbreviated nap earlier, Ellie’s exhausted.
She loves the bath, so I figure an early one will burn up some time before bed and also prep her for—fingers crossed—a good night’s sleep.
I assume Felix will slip away without saying goodbye, but as we reach the hallway, his door opens.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a fitted gray T-shirt.
His hair is damp from the shower, and he smells like soap and something woodsy and expensive.
He also looks like he stepped off the cover of a magazine, and my stupid, hormonal body responds accordingly.
“Have a great time,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“I—” He stops, looking first at me and then Ellie. Her face is buried against my shoulder like she’s about as pleased as I am. When he looks back at me, his gaze is dark and slightly wild. “Do you have a problem with this, Hart?”
“Not in the slightest. One of us needs to get out of the house.” I shift Ellie on my hip, using her as a buffer between us. “I’m happy right where I am.”
I move past him toward the bathroom, but his voice stops me.
“Piper—”
“Seriously, Felix. It’s fine. Ellie’s fussy, so I’m going to give her a bath and try to put her down early. You don’t need to stick around for that.”
I don’t look back at him. If I do, I might do something stupid. Like ask him to stay.
Instead, I close the bathroom door between us and start running water for Ellie’s bath.
An hour, three rounds of Goodnight Moon, and two lullabies later, Ellie is clean, pajama’d and finally passed out in her crib.
I’m already plotting my own early night when I smell fresh-baked bread.
Totally ignoring the fact that Felix is gone—so this could be the start of a doughy horror movie—I make my way downstairs, following the scent like a cartoon character floating toward a pie on a windowsill.
Once again, instead of a villain, I find Felix in the kitchen.
He’s changed out of the jeans and back into athletic shorts and a looser fitting shirt.
I command my booing ovaries to hush and watch in rapt fascination—or maybe that’s hunger—as he pulls a golden loaf from the oven.
“I thought you were going out,” I say.
He sets the bread on a cooling rack, not quite meeting my eyes. “Changed my mind.”
The kitchen island is set for two, with plates and silverware and what looks like two of Mindy’s prepared meals ready to go on the counter.
“You made dinner.”
“I heated dinner,” he corrects with a smile that looks almost shy and totally out of character for larger-than-life Felix Barlowe. “But the bread is mine.” He moves to the sink to fill two glasses with water. “Figured we both need to eat.”
“Felix—”
“Sit down.” He points to a chair at the island. “It’s dinner, not a marriage proposal.”
As if I needed that reminder. But the idea of being married to…well, not specifically Felix but a man like him—one who carries me down a trail when I stumble and then feeds me—makes me feel a little dizzy, and I sink into the chair before my knees give out.
It’s the exact opposite of the relationship I had with my ass-hat ex-fiancé.
A twatwaffle who seemed to believe that because I was younger and not a doctor, I owed him just for picking me.
Turns out, that kind of selfish love does not do great things to a person’s self-esteem.
And even though I’ve seen my sister and book club friends taken care of by the men who love them, I convinced myself I’m better on my own. Safer.
Felix is dangerous on a lot of levels.