Chapter 15 Felix
FELIX
I’m elbow-deep in flour at five in the morning, only to realize I’m taking my frustrations out on a ball of dough that never did a damn thing to me.
The rest of the house is dark, which fits my mood. Outside the kitchen window, there’s nothing but the faint outline of mountains against the pre-dawn sky. Inside, it’s just me, my thoughts, and the pummeled dough.
I force myself to ease up. Bread responds to careful handling, not unjustified aggression. Kind of like relationships, I guess. Not that I’m an expert on those.
Yesterday was a clusterfuck of epic proportions, from my brother finding out about Ellie to me finding out about the baby.
Then getting punched in the face—which, fair.
And the cherry on top of the shit show sundae?
Piper going upstairs for a nap only to return two hours later, sleep-rumpled and looking at me as if the father of her child is a problem she needs to solve.
Our child.
The thought hasn’t stopped making my heart do funny things.
I start kneading with a gentler hand, folding the dough over itself in the rhythmic pattern I perfected during months of late-night baking sessions.
Push, fold, turn. Over and over. It’s meditative in a way nothing else is.
Sourdough takes control and patience, which I’m not exactly known for in other areas of my life.
The worst part of yesterday wasn’t Ian’s right hook, although it’s been years since I was clocked that hard.
But that punch didn’t land as hard as the look on Piper’s face when I said Ellie was my responsibility “for now.” Apparently, I confirmed every fear she’s carrying about me and proved I’m exactly the kind of man she thought.
One who makes an exit strategy before the game even starts.
Maybe she’s right. But who can blame me with my track record? Three serious relationships and three times getting my heart stomped on. My parents hated each other, and made damn sure Ian and I knew raising us was a major inconvenience. Why would anyone think I’ll be any different as a father?
I want to be different for Piper and the baby.
Hell, maybe even for Ellie, who’s totally oblivious to all of this.
Well, not totally. She definitely caught onto the tension yesterday.
And I have to admit, it was hilarious watching my golden-god older brother try to win over a pint-sized female who was having none of his patented charm.
Damn if I didn’t love that. The sweet girl is impossible to resist, and I’m already in love with her. But love isn’t enough.
I shape the dough into a ball and place it in the proofing bowl, covering it with a damp towel. Now comes the hard part—having the patience to let the magic happen without interference.
“I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Piper stands at the edge of the kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts, this one from Cincinnati, which means she went into my room and took it—baller fucking move—and sleep shorts that showcase her long legs in a way that makes me need to adjust my own.
Her hair is loose and tangled, and once again it’s confirmed: she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I can’t imagine a world where that ever changes.
My heart starts doing that stupid hammering thing it does whenever she’s close. Jesus, I’ve got it bad.
“Not sleeping, so…” I wipe my hands on the towel and try to look like I’m not freaking the fuck out about all of this. “Thought I’d make some bread.”
“At five in the morning?”
“No distractions.” Except now she’s here, and she’s the only thing I can think about. “You feeling okay? How’s the morning sickness?”
“I’m fine so far.” She moves closer, shimmying her hips. “So the Filsbury Dough Boy rides at dawn?”
It takes me a second to realize she’s trying to make a joke because…Christ, those hips. It’s about the bread and catching me stress-baking at dawn like some kind of certifiable housewife. But I’m too raw for jokes right now, and too scared of saying the wrong thing and making everything worse.
“I want to be a father,” I tell her quietly, forcing out the words before I’m too chicken shit to say them. “There’s a good chance I might suck at it, but I want to try. Even if the only support you want from me is financial, you’ve got it. You don’t ever have to work again.”
The temperature in the room drops about twenty degrees.
Piper’s eyes go from soft to icy so fast I get whiplash. “Excuse me?”
That part about how I was afraid I’d say something stupid? Nailed it.
“I just mean—”
“Do you think I’m looking for a sugar daddy, Felix?” Her voice could cut glass. “Is that what this is? You throw money at me and I go away?”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Or do you think I got pregnant on purpose?” She takes a step toward me, and even though I dwarf her in size, I feel like I’m being backed into a corner. “That I was trying to trap you?”
“Jesus, Piper, no.” I run both hands through my hair, making it stand up in directions that probably match my stress level. “Of course, I don’t think that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to take care of you. Both of you. Fucking sue me, but I thought that’s what men were supposed to do when they get someone pregnant, right? Take care of the—”
“If you say problem,” she seethes through gritted teeth, “I’m going to make Ian’s punch feel like a love tap.”
“I wasn’t going to say problem.”
“I don’t need you to be my personal ATM.”
“When you put it like that—”
“How else should I put it, Felix?” She crosses her arms, and I try very hard not to notice how the movement showcases those gorgeous tits.
“I don’t know, but this isn’t like...” I take a breath, trying to find the right words. “Come on, Hart. You know I’m not angling to be your sugar daddy. Christ, if we were in that kind of relationship, you’d be a lot more accommodating—”
She swats my arm then growls low in her throat, kind of like a feral cat. And I’m shocked to find feral cat kink might be my thing, which is not helpful right now.
“This is not going the way I thought it would.” I hold up both hands in surrender. “But I fucking promise that I don’t think you were trying to trap me. I don’t feel trapped. I feel shocked still, yeah, but I’m going to figure it out.”
“Sooner than later, I hope,” she murmurs and takes a step away.
She doesn’t sound like she believes in me, and honestly, I don’t blame her. How the hell am I supposed to be a father when I can barely get my thoughts out in any sort of coherent manner?
“While you figure it out, or process or whatever you need to do, I’ve made a decision.” She opens the fridge and pulls out the orange juice and the container of leftover focaccia. “About what I’m doing next.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank God.”
She arches a brow, and I have a feeling I’m not going to like what’s coming. “I’m going home.”
The words hit me harder than my brother’s right hook. “You can’t.”
“I have things to figure out,” she says as she slices a thick piece of bread and slides it onto a plate. “Not just with you and me, but for myself.”
I want to argue, to tell her she can figure things out here with me, but something in her expression stops me.
“When I graduated college,” she continues, pouring a glass of juice and then taking a seat at the island, “I moved to Kansas City because a friend from nursing school invited me to live with her and got me a job at the hospital. I didn’t have to take care of anything.
Then I started dating Bradley because I knew him, and it was easy.
When my friend decided to become a traveling nurse, it was easy to move into Bradley’s house.
” She pauses, worrying her bottom lip as she gazes at a place beyond my shoulder.
“When the wedding didn’t work out, I moved back to Skylark, and Sadie transferred the deed of our childhood home to me. ”
“Piper—”
“And when I found out I was pregnant and saw Bradley right after that, I ran away to this cabin.” She finally looks at me, and the determination in her eyes makes my chest ache. “Do you see a theme here, Barlowe? I let other people make things easy for me.”
“That’s not a bad thing—”
“I’m twenty-three, and I want to stand on my own.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “I forgot how young you are.”
“I’m not a baby.” Her eyes flash. “Even though I let people treat me like one.”
“I’m nearly a decade older than you.” That age gap suddenly feels massive, another reason I’m all wrong for her.
“So is my sister.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t get you pregnant.”
“Can your premature midlife crisis take a backseat for a minute?” She rolls those gorgeous eyes, and despite everything, I feel my lips twitch.
“What about the baby?”
“He or she is tucked away for seven more months. We have plenty of time to work out an arrangement.”
An arrangement? I hate how sterile and detached that word sounds. “What about Ellie? I mean, I know you don’t owe her anything or—”
“I was thinking I could take her with me.”
My jaw actually drops. “She’s my responsibility.”
“Yes, I know. I’m not trying to take your place.” Piper’s voice softens. “But I need to go back today. The book club is meeting, and I want to see my friends. I want to sleep in my own bed, even if it’s in a house that doesn’t truly feel like it belongs to me. This is La La Land up here.”
“Not exactly La La Land.”
“Maybe not for you. You’re training every day, working toward something. You have a purpose.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I need to figure out who I am outside of being someone’s sister or someone’s ex-fiancée or someone’s nanny and baby mama.”
Everything she’s saying makes sense, but I hate the idea of her leaving. Hate that I’m part of the pattern she’s trying to break.
“I’ll pay you,” I blurt out. “Double your nursing salary to stay.”
“Stop trying to buy me off.” Her voice goes sharp again. “It makes me feel cheap.”
I nearly laugh at that. Piper Hart has no idea what she’s costing me, and I don’t mean financially. But I’m smart enough not to say it.
“I’ll go with you,” I offer instead.
She scoffs. “You’ve got your whole setup here. You’ve got Tyler.”
“Tyler will go wherever I am. And Ellie’s staying with me, but she likes you, and I trust you. You can keep being her nanny while we both figure our shit out.”
She studies me for a while, and I expect her to say no. “Would you stay with Ian and Sadie?” she asks softly, and it feels so much like a victory that I nearly break out my end zone dance.
“Hell, no.” I shake my head. “I love my brother, but I don’t need him up my ass on the daily.”
By this point, the first rays of morning light are starting to creep through the window, turning the sky from gray to shades of deep purple and pink.
“I’ll rent a house,” I continue. “One for me and Ellie, one for Tyler. We’ll find a gym to use.”
“Felix.” Her smile is sweet, almost hesitant, and my heart starts to gallop in response.
“My mom’s house—my house,” she corrects herself, “has three bedrooms. You’ve been there when it was Sadie’s.
It’s not fancy or full of expensive gym equipment, but being together in one place would make the logistics one less thing either of us has to deal with. ”
“Now who’s taking care of who?” I ask, but there’s no heat in it.
The space between us is suddenly charged with all the things we have to figure out—together and on our own.
Then we both blurt: “We can’t have sex again.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“Too complicated,” she agrees.
I reach across the island to shake on it. Our palms press together, and I can’t help but think about pulling her closer. Except, nope. Way too complicated. I force myself to release her and pretend to adjust the towel covering the proofing bowl. “You just want me for my bread.”
She rolls her eyes but laughs at the joke. “You might be right.”
I’ll fucking bake like it’s my full-time job if that’s what she needs.
“I should start packing,” she says as she stands. “I need to head down this morning to make the meeting.”
“Sure.” I grab her empty plate and juice glass. “Ellie and I will follow.”
What I want to say is, now that our baby’s involved, I’ll follow her anywhere. Skylark. Vail. Timbuktu. Doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.
But that sounds stalkerish and desperate. And I learned my lesson—three times over—about being too needy.
She starts to leave, then turns back. “For what it’s worth, I think your face looks better with a little character.”
I press two fingers to the impressive bruise Ian left on my jaw. “Thanks, Hart.”
“Anytime, Barlowe.”
I watch her head upstairs and wonder if just maybe we’re going to figure this out after all. Or if we’re just going to keep finding new and creative ways to make this harder than it needs to be.
With Piper and me, it could go either way.
I fill the dishwasher, then start a pot of coffee, the scent of the roasted beans oddly comforting.
The dough sits in its bowl, slowly rising in the warmth of the kitchen as dawn breaks through the cabin’s windows.
The beans and the bread aren’t stressed about what comes next.
They’re just waiting for time to do its work so they can become something better than they started out as.
Maybe there’s a lesson in that for me.