7. Cal
Cal
T he damn thump of some upbeat tune blares to life through the wall, through my apartment, through my head. It quiets immediately, but not quickly enough. From the guest bedroom, a little wail erupts. Charlie’s having a tough time going to sleep, and any little thing upsets her.
Swallowing a curse, I bury the heels of my palms against my eyeballs.
Jules the barista must be a heartless, cruel person. She knows I have Charlie. But she’s making a statement and displaying exactly how she feels about me.
That’s fine. Because right now, the feeling is mutual since she woke up the baby.
I take a small measure of satisfaction that it’s her fault, not mine. I go to the wall and bang loudly, and Charlie cries that much harder.
Fine. I’ll show Jules.
I open the bedroom door, and Charlie’s piercing scream shoots a dagger through my left eyeball.
After leaving the yelling match downstairs earlier, I brought Charlie home, and the good day we’d had up until we made the fatal mistake of stopping in the coffee shop went to hell in a handbasket.
Nothing went right.
Charlie threw everything I put on her plate, and then she threw the whole damn plate. My usually spotless kitchen was covered in English peas and carrots. I didn’t get the lid on all the way, so when she threw the bottle, milk went everywhere.
I pull a flailing Charlie into my arms and march out of my apartment, down the stairs, around the back of the building, and then take the steps up two at a time.
Charlie is still flailing as I bang on Jules’s door. It opens an inch, barricaded by a flimsy chain.
“Too scared to face the results of your actions?” I bark. “Congratulations. You win.”
Charlie punctuates my sentence by punching me in the jaw. I glare at Jules, who shuts the door.
Shuts. The. Door.
Bright red fury blinds me.
I’m dangerously close to putting my fist through this damn door.
But as quickly as I have the thought, the wood swings open, and a contrite Jules stands in the doorway.
Her hair is up in a messy bun; her makeup is gone.
She’s wearing a slouchy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder.
No bra strap in sight. My cock twitches at the tease of bare skin despite my exhaustion and frustration.
“I’m so sorry. The volume was still up when I turned my stereo on. I tried to catch it in time.”
Charlie shrieks over any response I might have. Kicking her legs, punching her little fists, and arching her back so hard I almost drop her.
“Wow. That’s a temper.” Jules steps forward, arms outstretched.
And for reasons I don’t understand, other than I am at my wits’ end, I let her pull Charlie out of my arms.
“Hey there, little screamer.” Jules bounces and coos, and Charlie stops the tantrum immediately, her wide eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You little traitor,” I mutter.
“Come on in,” Jules offers. “I made this mess, so I guess I should help clean it up.”
I follow her inside like I’m being led to the gallows.
“She keeps crying at bedtime. Just when I think she’s down, she kicks it up a notch.”
Jules, still bouncing, smooths a hand over Charlie’s head, pressing her sad little face into her neck. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mean old Jules woke you up by trying to have a happy dance.”
Happy dance, my ass . Despite her excuses, I think she was intentionally pushing my buttons. Charlie sniffles and burrows into Jules.
“You like snuggling, huh?” she says, turning away to bounce-pace across the apartment. “Do you like dancing too?” Her slouchy sweatshirt is paired with some oversize light-gray sweats. She looks messy and comfortable all at the same time.
I don’t want to wonder about the tease of a lithe body under those sweats. But the way the material shifts and moves as she consoles Charlie has piqued my stupid libido.
I blame Jules for my inability to make sense of anything right now.
“Uh-huh,” comes a little voice, sneaking in and knifing me right in the heart .
A thought pops up, and it’s one I’ve had amid many of these tantrums, but it’s written in bright, bold neon now.
“It makes sense,” I say under my breath.
“What does?”
Damn . Do I want to tell this truth to this stranger who’s been nothing but guarded and mean to me? But if we’re going to be neighbors, then maybe I need to be the first to extend an olive branch.
“Her mom left.” I keep my voice low and calm. “She must be missing her.”
Jules makes a slow spin to face me, her eyes tracking my face to see if I’m telling the truth. She must believe me because she presses a kiss to Charlie’s forehead. “Poor baby.”
Charlie sniffles, her eyelids doing that thing where they close, then pop open, and then slowly close again. My heart cracks wide open.
“She’s exhausted. I’m exhausted,” I admit. I’m so fucking weary, it’s no wonder I blew a gasket over some stupid antagonizing.
“And I made it worse by blasting my tunes. I’m sorry.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve handled things better this afternoon.”
Jules does the bounce-pace a little more. And Charlie is still doing the eyelid flutter. “I better take her and try to put her down before she falls asleep on you.”
But when I reach for Charlie, she whimpers and shies away. It’s like a dagger to my heart. Jules watches the whole thing, and I low-key hate being rejected in front of her. It’s embarrassing.
“Why don’t I follow you back and see if I can get her down for you.” Jules surprises the hell out of me with her offer.
I can’t handle any more stabs to the heart. It’s already in shreds. And if I try to take Charlie away from Jules, we’ll start the whole struggle bus over. All I want to do is go to sleep and put this day behind us.
So I lead the way. Back down the stairs, through the alley, up our stairs, into my apartment, and all the way to my guest bedroom.
“This is where she sleeps?” Jules asks. I detect a hint of incredulity in her voice, and my guard immediately goes back up, but I back out of the room as Jules sits on the edge of the bed and begins rocking.
Taking in the guest room, I sigh. I guess it could be a little more inviting. The playpen is wedged next to the wall at the foot of the bed. But it stays cool in here, and it’s nice and dark.
To fight the feeling that I’m a complete and total failure, I go clean up the kitchen mess.
I’ve just finished loading the dishwasher when Jules quietly closes the door behind her.
“I think she’s down now,” she whispers. Her hands splay on the countertop, and she looks like she’s got a million things to say.
I brace for the unknown. For the accusations that I’ve got no business trying to take care of a baby. It’s true. I know it. Despite how hard I’ve tried over the last few days, I’m drowning.
“I have no idea what I’m doing here.” The admission rips from deep in my soul.
I want to be that guy , the hero who can fix all the things and make everything right in this little girl’s world.
But just like I failed that kid when I couldn’t save his mother, I can’t manage to take care of the one person who needs me most in the world .
The truth is humbling.
“You’re doing fine. Kids can be a lot.” She lets me off too easy. We both know it. “But if you don’t mind some helpful advice?” She pauses and takes a breath like she’s bracing for a truth bomb.
I nod for her to continue.
“Get her a real bed. Have a nighttime routine.”
I run a hand through my hair. At the rate I’m tugging it, I’ll be bald within a week. “Yeah, I thought that the cage she’s in looks uncomfortable.”
The corner of her mouth tips up in a grin. “It’s not a cage. But it could definitely be less like a board.”
The sight of that half smile has me mesmerized. But I don’t want to be mesmerized by her smile.
“Yeah, probably.”
Her eyes meet mine, and it’s like our gazes lock. Silence falls between us, intimate and uncomfortable. After seconds that feel like forever, she breaks the eye contact, tucking a curl behind her ear.
“I really am sorry that I woke her up.”
That makes me smile more. “But not for harassing me?”
“Truthfully? No.” Her smile widens. “I’m a byproduct of being the youngest in a houseful of boys growing up. I had to adapt to survive.”
“Interesting. I would’ve pegged you for the good little girl. The one who got straight A’s and followed all the rules.”
“Yeah, well. Shows what you know.” She leans back and pushes off the counter, breaking the spell we wove with the simple exchange. I think she’s getting ready to leave, and even though I don’t want to admit it, I don’t want her to go. She feels like a light amid this dark path I’m on.
“You want a drink?” I ask, desperate to get her to stay .
She wraps her arms around her waist, and that sweatshirt molds to her. It’s definitely covering some curves.
“Thanks, but no.”
She walks to the door, each step like a crack to my control.
“Jules,” I blurt, and she pauses.
“Be careful walking home in the dark. I’d walk you back, but I’m scared to leave Charlie after the stunt my sister pulled.
” I can’t help myself. Where I come from, it’s dangerous for a woman to be walking alone after dark.
It’d be nice if the balcony we share wasn’t blocked off; then she could easily go from one apartment to the other.
She opens the door and looks back at me over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. It’s literally around the back of the building. I have to go that way every time I park my car.” She watches me for a second and then gives me an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll give you two taps on the wall when I get in.”
I wait a ridiculously long time, it feels like, but is probably less than a few minutes, before two gentle raps sound. Then I let out a breath and shut down the apartment for the night. If today was any indication of my new schedule, Charlie will be up at the ass crack of dawn.
The weight of the situation bears down on me. I’ve got a tiny human sleeping in the next room. I have no idea how to care for her. I have no idea how long she’ll be here. And I have no idea how I can go back to work.
But for now, I need sleep. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll figure everything else out.