30. Shirtless Daddies Do It Best
CHAPTER
SHIRTLESS DADDIES DO IT BEST
ADAM
“Would
you just fucking text her? I’m sick of watching you open your messages, stare at them, and then close them again!”
“Geez,” I mutter, glowering at Jaxon. “Someone’s testy this morning.”
“Mittens thought my goddamn wiener was a dangly toy when I got out of bed, and he whacked it with his sharp fucking talons before I could shield myself.” He grips his junk with one hand, the other arm flailing wide. “Of course I’m fucking testy!”
“Maybe you should guard your testes,
and then you wouldn’t be so testy
,” Carter says. He wags his brows, holding his hand up for a high five. “Eh? Get it? Because I said—”
“No, we got it,” I assure him.
“Oh.” He frowns at his hand. “’Cause no one high-fived me.” He chugs his post-rollerblade smoothie, then twists an Oreo apart. Balance, I guess. “How come you’re not texting Rosie?”
“It’s barely after seven a.m.”
“She has a kid and school,” Emmett says, as he and Garrett slather mashed avocado on several pieces of toast. “She’s definitely awake.”
“Dey takin’ tings swow,” Garrett mumbles around his bite.
Jaxon blinks at him. “What?”
“They’re taking things slow,” Garrett repeats. “So he can’t text her first thing in the morning, ’cause that’s not slow.”
Carter chuckles, stretching his arms overhead. “Yeah, I know that game. Ollie and I were never good at slow. Her more than me. We were supposed to be taking things slow, then she climbed on top of me in the limo after Cara and Em’s engagement party. Had to fight her off.”
Olivia walks by with a steaming mug of tea, flicking him in his head. “That’s absolutely not how that went.” She smiles at me. “I think it’s sweet you guys are slowing things down for a minute. It can’t hurt. And yes, you can text her. Women love to know they’re your first thought in the morning.”
“So I should—”
“Yup.”
“ Yes
.” I pull out my phone and immediately start typing out a message, not a fuck to give about the way my friends are laughing at me.
Good morning. Did you have a good sleep?
No. Lame. Backspace.
Hello, Rosie. Are you well today?
How did it get worse? Backspace.
Good morning, beautiful. I thought of you in bed last night.
Oh my God, Adam, what’s wrong
with you? Back-fucking-space.
Olivia peeks around my shoulder. “A simple have a good day
would do wonders, Casanova. Don’t overthink it.”
Me
Morning, trouble. Hope you have a good day.
Trouble
Thanks, Adam. Not off to a great start.
A photo follows, a tearful Connor wrapped around her.
Connor has a stomach bug.
Ah fuck. Poor guy. I zoom in on the picture, Connor’s sleepy eyes, his unusually pale skin. It’s the exhausted, stressed look in Rosie’s eyes that has me hitting the Call button, slipping out Carter’s patio door into his backyard.
“Hey,” Rosie answers.
“I’m sorry Connor’s sick, Rosie. You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” She sighs. “Crap timing. I can’t send him to daycare, and obviously Brandon isn’t an option anymore.
” She sniffles, tugging at my heartstrings.
“Sorry, I’m frustrated and exhausted because we’ve been up since two, and it’s making me emotional.
I’m supposed to be in surgery in two hours, but I’m going to have to miss it. ”
“I’ll watch him. I can take Connor today while you’re at school.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. I’m volunteering. I already did my workout with the guys; I’ve got the rest of the day free.”
“It’s not going to be an easy day. He’s clingy and emotional when he’s sick.”
“I like clingy and emotional.”
“Adam—”
“Let me help you, Rosie. You can count on me. Plus, I’ve missed the fuck out of him. Lean on me today.”
She hesitates, and I imagine her teeth tugging on her lower lip, the little crease between her brows while she overthinks this. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as hell.” I head back through the house. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
Carter throws his arms in the air, following me to the front door. “You promised to do that TikTok with me!”
“I did not.”
“Aw, man
. But all the girlies love to see you dance.”
“No, Carter.” I open the door, looking at him in his DILF T-shirt. “They love to see your shirtless daddy content.”
“ You could be a shirtless daddy too
!” he shouts out the door as I climb into my truck.
Right now, the only person I’m okay with calling me Dada
is Connor.
And shit
is the poor kid ever sick, all red-rimmed eyes and snotty nosed from crying, his skin pale and slick with sweat.
“We’ll be fine,” I promise Rosie forty minutes later when we’re out front of her school. We might not be fine.
“We’ve got it under control.” We don’t have it under control at all.
I grin at Connor. It’s way shakier than I’d like, so I try for plan B, which is two thumbs up. “Right, buddy?”
He heaves, and Rosie manages to get the opened bag into position a split second before he vomits.
“Oh, baby.” She wipes his face, worried gaze coming to mine. “I don’t know, Adam. Maybe I should stay with him.”
“Rosie.” I grip her shoulders, squeezing gently.
“This is scary because you can’t control it.
But you aren’t going to be able to control him being sick if you’re home with him either.
I know you just want to be with him, make sure he’s taken care of, and I promise you, I’m going to take care of him.
He’s going to be loved to pieces at home with me and Bear. Right, bud?”
Connor wipes the tears from his face, sniffling. “Dada, Bear?”
Rosie smiles softly, pushing his hair off his damp forehead.
“Trust me?” I ask her quietly.
She watches me for a moment, then nods. “I trust you, Adam.”
“Fuck yeah, you do.”
“Fuck yeah,” Connor repeats quietly, and my smile falls.
“Oh shit. No. Oh fuck. Shit.” I look to Rosie. “ Rosie
.”
Connor smiles slowly, a devilish sight, little brows quirking. “Oh shit. Oh
shit! Shit
!”
I grab Rosie’s backpack, sling the straps onto her shoulders, then shove the Starbucks I picked up for her into her hands. “I’ll call you if I need anything at all, and I promise I won’t swear anymore!” I push her— gently
—toward the entrance of the building. “Have a great day, we love you!” I stop, popping a fist on my hip, brows furrowed as I replay those last three words in my head. “No, I didn’t, um…” My eyes come to Rosie’s. She’s standing there, clutching her breakfast, grinning at me. “ Okaybye
!” I dash to my side, throw myself in, and tear out of the parking lot without another look in her direction. “Shit. That was a close one, huh, bud?”
Connor grins at me in the reflection of the car seat mirror. “Shit.”
Ah fuck.
* * *
Trouble
How’s it going?
Me
Great!
Are you lying?
Only a little!
*laughing emoji* I appreciate you, Adam.
She made it two and a half hours before texting. I’m impressed; I just know her fingers have been itching all morning.
And really, we’re doing okay. Tough day, but we’re getting through it. He hasn’t thrown up in nearly two hours, he’s managed to keep down some crackers and water, and he’s only fallen to pieces, like, three times, all three times I’ve tried to put him down. Me? I’m whole. I’m totally
whole.
“I need help.”
“I’ll be there in five,” Carter says.
I know what you’re thinking: You called
Carter for advice?
It’s the last thing I ever thought I’d do, too, but I have to admit, he’s got the dad thing down pat.
I’m waiting on my front porch when he rolls up, a weeping Connor in my arms, his small hand tangled in my hair.
“What is that?” I ask as he strolls toward us.
“What, this?” He touches the hat on his head. “It’s my DILF hat.”
“I can read, Carter. I know what your hat says. And why do you need a DILF hat when you’re already wearing your DILF shirt?”
“To really drive home the point.” He holds up the contraption in his hand.
It looks like some sort of…backpack? “When Ireland is having a rough day, she just wants to be held. I strap her to my chest, and she’s happy as hell.
” He sizes me up. “We’ll probably have to adjust this, because you’re smaller than me. ”
I roll my eyes as he covertly makes the waist larger, because he knows as well as I do who the smaller one of us is.
“I’m gonna put you down for a minute, ’kay, buddy?” I lower Connor down to a chair on my porch, and he screams, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt.
“ No
! No down! Up! Up
!” He scrambles to his feet, tugging at my pants, wailing. “Up, Dada, up
!”
“Hey,” I soothe, crouching down, rubbing his back. “I know you’re upset. My friend Carter is going to help me put this on, and then I’m going to pick you right back up, okay?”
“I’ll be superfast, little dude. I promise.” Carter straps the contraption around my waist. “Told you you could be a shirtless daddy.”
“I don’t want to be a shirtless daddy. I want to keep my shirt on.
” I scoop Connor back up, and Carter shows me how to tuck him against my chest before he clips the shoulder straps together.
Connor rubs his eyes with his tiny fists, hiccuping, laying his cheek on my collarbone. “What do you think, bud? You like it?”
“Bus,” he whispers softly, pointing down the street.
“You wanna go watch some buses?” I look to Carter. “Can we do that when he’s sick?”
“Fresh air might be good for him.” He pats Connor’s back, smiling. “Nice to meet you, little dude. You’ll have to come over for a playdate with Ireland soon, ’kay?”
Connor’s wide, glassy eyes move between Carter’s. “I-lan?”
“Nailed it!” He claps me on the back. “You got this, Daddy.”
“Please don’t call me Daddy.”
He winks at me, climbing into his car. “You can call me
Daddy.”
My God. Poor Olivia.
I hook Bear to his leash, grab some snacks, and the three of us head out. Connor is quiet at first, watching me as I point out trucks and birds, but Bear wrings a snicker from him when he tangles himself up trying to chase a squirrel up a tree.
“Red car,” he whispers, pointing to a car at the stoplight.
“Yes! Red car!” I point at a blue one. “What color is that one?”