Chapter Four
Hawk
I wake up feeling more rested than I have all week.
Wren is gurgling in her bassinet as the mobile circles overhead, little birds that seem to have kept her occupied while I slept.
It seems my daughter is a morning person like her father, and I’ve come to appreciate that there isn’t as much fuss at dawn as there is when the sun goes down.
With another glance at her, I calculate how long it’ll take to grab a shower before she decides she’s ready for breakfast.
Ten minutes.
That’s how much time I get to grab a shower and brush my teeth before she screams for my attention.
I change and feed my daughter, then prepare my own coffee.
I carry Wren in one arm and my coffee with the other hand as we step onto the balcony for the warm morning sunlight and some fresh air.
The view of the lake, however distant, was what sold me on this apartment when I first moved to Chicago.
I just never imagined that I would one day be looking out at this view with my daughter in my arms.
I glance down at my cooing baby, feeling a swarm of emotions choke me—a mix of love, surprise, disbelief, and contentment. I wonder if my father felt the same way when he saw my brother and me for the first time. And if he did, how could he allow us to be raised in the system?
No one is going to take Wren away from me, even if I have to fight to the death to keep her. Even if I have to beg my beautiful neighbor to come over every night and play her violin for Wren. And for…me.
Amelia Belton.
What a pretty name for an extremely beautiful woman.
One with lips that taste like the sweetest fruit, warm and succulent.
So fucking addictive. I would have taken things further if we hadn’t been interrupted.
But it’s not all sexual. There’s something about Amelia that gives me peace in ways I haven’t felt in a long time.
She calms the demons in my mind by just… being.
I want that. Her.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I smile when I figure it’s probably Amelia coming to check in. I ought to treat her to breakfast after everything she did last night. Showing my little girl such kindness.
“What do you think about treating our pretty neighbor to some eggs and toast?” I ask Wren before downing what’s left of my coffee.
She makes some gurgling noises in response, stretching her tiny arms, which I take as an affirmative answer.
I don’t bother putting on a shirt, a part of me anticipating the reaction I got when I showed up at Amelia’s door shirtless.
It hadn’t been intentional last night, but this morning, I can’t help wanting to tease her a bit.
I set the empty mug in the crowded sink before walking to the front door, a smile on my face when I open it, but instead of the pretty face of my neighbor, I’m met by the stern face of the caseworker, Kelly Davis.
“Mr. Drayton,” she says in greeting, her eyes moving over my naked torso and tattooed skin. I don’t miss the appreciation that crosses her otherwise professionally distant gaze before she shifts her attention to the baby in my arms.. “I’m here for the routine check-in. You didn’t forget, did you?”
I did.
Fuck, I’ve been so busy and overwhelmed these past couple of days that it completely skipped my mind.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Please come in,” I say, moving aside to let her in.
She enters my apartment, her gaze sweeping across the living room.
I follow her eyes, suddenly conscious of the scattered toys and at least one article of clothing on every surface.
I wince at the way the morning light illuminates every little imperfection, but it’s impossible to keep the place spotless with a baby who hates being put down for more than a few minutes.
The place is clean—as clean as it can be for a man who barely has time to breathe—but more than that, it’s a tad disorganized.
A colorful play mat lies in one corner, surrounded by blocks and a few discarded books.
I haven’t gotten around to putting them away, seeing as how Wren is still too young for most of the toys anyway.
The other corner is filled with boxes I have yet to open, with more stuff the club wives sent over for Wren.
The sofa is mostly neat, with a blanket draped over the arm and a stray pacifier sitting on the cushion next to a single sock.
The kitchen is where the nightmare is. I see Kelly glance through the doorway to where a ton of dishes sit in the sink, waiting to be washed.
The counter is littered with boxes, jars, bibs, bottles, toys, and more stray pacifiers.
She shakes her head, and I read judgment in her expression.
I realize that I haven’t actually invited her to sit, and I’m very much still half-naked.
Shit.
Not a great first impression.
“You did all this…in five days?” she asks, turning around to face me as she waves at the obvious changes made to accommodate Wren.
“Yes, some ladies I know stepped in to help decorate the place for Wren and get her everything she needs.”
“I see that,” she says with a nod, taking out a notepad and scribbling something down on it.
“Please, have a seat,” I say, gesturing toward the sofa. “I wasn’t prepared to have you so early. I’ll go get a shirt.”
“I’ll take Wren,” she offers, and I gently pass the baby to her arms before heading to my bedroom to get dressed, trading my sweatpants for a pair of blue jeans and a simple white T-shirt before walking back to the living room.
“Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” she says, letting me take back the baby when I reach out. “Mr. Drayton, you don’t have family, do you?”
“The club—”
“Will not be with you when Wren wakes up in the middle of the night needing to be fed but there are no clean bottles. She needs a stable family where one parent can change her while the other prepares the bottle. What happens when you fall asleep from exhaustion in the middle of the night and there’s no one here to take care of her?
Becoming a single parent, especially so suddenly as in your case, is incredibly challenging, as I’m sure you’re learning firsthand. ”
I grit my teeth, pushing down the urge to argue and defend myself. I’ve been doing a pretty decent job taking care of my daughter. “Wren is well cared for. I—”
“Mr. Drayton, it’s like the judge said, intent is not enough.” She folds her hands over her lap as her expression turns even more serious. “Wren is still small, and chances for adoption are high—”
“No,” I grind out, more harshly than I intended and startling my daughter.
Her face scrunches up as if preparing to cry so I get to my feet and start bouncing her softly.
I force in deep breaths in an attempt to get my rage under control.
It’ll do me no good to show such strong emotion to a woman who is clearly prejudiced against single parenthood. “I’m not giving my daughter up.”
“This is not an attack on your parenting skills, but the judge will have to determine what’s best for the baby, and parenting can be overwhelming for one person.
” I don’t like her tone or what her words imply.
“I understand you want the best for your daughter, and I think that would be a two-parent household, so you might consider—”
“I’m not alone,” I blurt out, cutting her off.
“Excuse me?”
Fuck. Why did I say that? It’s clear that on paper, I have no family.
Raised in foster care with a brother who died a year ago, I am very obviously alone.
It’s clear they won’t acknowledge the club as my family and heck, when it comes down to it, they might even use it against me. An MC helping raise a child?
Fuck.
“I have a partner,” I say before my mind can catch up, but I decide to go with it, making it up as I go. “She’s great and loves Wren. Soon, we’ll be married and then you won’t have to worry about Wren being raised by a single parent.”
The caseworker arches a brow as she leans back with a look of disbelief on her face, and can I blame her? “And where is this…partner?”
I panic at the question but try not to show it. “Perhaps during your next visit—”
“I’ve been doing this for twenty years, Mr. Drayton. I can tell a lie when I see it,” she says, climbing to her feet. “While I appreciate the effort, it will be noted in my report that—”
Her words are cut off by a knock on the front door.
We both turn to stare at it, and I welcome the distraction as I walk to open it.
Standing on the other side is the angel who helped me put my baby to sleep last night, and now she’s about to save us again.
She’s carrying her violin, which she raises for me to see.
“Sweetheart,” I say even before she can speak, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against me, careful not to crush Wren in the process. “You’re just in time.”
“Hawk?”
Amelia blushes prettily, clearly flustered by the closeness. I lean down and brush my mouth over hers before moving to kiss the spot under her ear. “Please play along.”
There’s a puzzled look on her face when I pull back, but she doesn’t speak as I nudge her into the apartment. She seems surprised to see the caseworker, but if she has questions, she doesn’t raise them. “Hi,” she says with a shy wave.
“Hello there, and you are?” the caseworker asks, her eyes narrowing on my new fake fiancée.
“Amelia Belton. I’m…” She turns to me for guidance, confusion and a little bit of panic written clearly in her eyes.
“This is my fiancée, Amelia. Sweetheart—” I turn to her with a plea clear in my eyes. “This is the caseworker handling Wren’s case. Kelly Davis.”
“O-oh, right, you told me about her. W-was the visit today?”
There’s suspicion on the caseworker’s face and it’s clear that she still doesn’t believe us. “How long have the two of you been together?”