Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
BILLIE
Big blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes stare back at me from the bassinet set in the corner of my bedroom.
I’m pretty sure this is the first time Blake has been simultaneously awake and not screaming until her little lungs couldn’t scream anymore.
Sitting on the bed next to her, I heave a sigh of relief.
It’s been a week since we returned from the hospital, and in the ten days Blake has been on this earth, a minute hasn’t passed without my mom by my side, helping me navigate breastfeeding, changing diapers, and generally offering me respite where she can.
With Dad completely out of action and unable to work until his leg is healed, the original plan she had—to take extended unpaid leave, as agreed with her boss—has gone up in flames.
We need the money, and the only one capable of earning right now is Mom.
As Blake drifts into a peaceful sleep, the faint noise of our front door opening causes her to stir, but mercifully, it isn’t enough to wake her entirely.
“Hey.” I hear Emmett’s muted voice as it filters from the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Practice overran, and the traffic was fucking terrible.”
My dad responds with something, although it isn’t loud enough for me to make it out, and I kick my feet up onto the bed, lying down and closing my eyes. Seeing Emmett would be great, but keeping Blake asleep and grabbing some myself is what I need, regardless of the shitty timing.
I’ve got no idea what time it is or how long has passed when I snap my eyes open and stare straight at the bedroom door.
“Hey.” Emmett’s hand is all I can see as it wraps around the doorjamb. “Is it okay if I come in?”
I quickly sit up and attempt to fix my hair as I sleepily reply, “Yeah, sure.”
His gray eyes land on me first before tracking to the bassinet, reminding me of the first time we set eyes on each other following my return from college. Every time I’m with Emmett, I’m Billie Quinn and not Billie the mom, and I like the way that makes me feel.
Slipping a hand into the pocket of his black jeans, he crouches down beside Blake as she happily sleeps away, hands raised above her head and sucking on a pacifier.
Her mass of dark hair reminds me of Tucker, but she has my freckles and nose.
One thing I’ve noticed about guys, especially ones who aren’t fathers themselves: they’re often clueless as to how to act around young kids and babies. They stand awkwardly or freeze completely on the spot.
Emmett does neither as he very gently rocks Blake’s bassinet the second she begins to stir again, soothing her back into a peaceful rest.
I look on, still dressed in last night’s pajamas, but not much caring either.
He pulls a silent breath into his lungs. “She’s beautiful, Bill. You did really good.”
Emmett knows the birth wasn’t completely straightforward.
Every single part of my birthing plan went out the window, replaced with a forceps delivery that I guess I should’ve expected, given Blake’s size.
I needed stitches, and the doctors kept me under close monitoring for an extra day before finally discharging us back home.
Adjusting the pillows behind me, I reach over and grab my water glass, taking a couple of sips before setting it back down on the nightstand. “Yeah, she’s a stunner.”
Emmett’s eyes are back on mine. “How much sleep have you been getting?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal when I’d actually murder for an unbroken three hours. “Not much. Blake has colic, and it’s been really bad.”
I know I look like shit. This past week, I feel like I’ve aged at least a decade. Even if I had the time for my skin care routine, there isn’t an illuminating eye mask or brand of concealer powerful enough to hide the dark circles around my eyes.
“I knew you were having a girl,” he says, briefly turning back to look at my daughter. He rises to his full stature, towering over me as he pushes his second hand into the other pocket of his jeans. “And Blake is a really pretty name.”
I suppress a yawn, attempting to hide it with a hand. “It was my first choice and Tucker’s last, so it seemed like the best option.”
His expression immediately morphs from relaxed to uptight, lines creasing into his forehead. “Have you heard from him?”
I thought I’d be more disappointed to get nothing more than an acknowledging text back from my ex-boyfriend, shortly followed by a second message, confirming that he will “meet the financial obligations as the father.”
In reality, I’m not. In time, I’m sure I’ll feel sad on Blake’s behalf and maybe even sorry that I picked a heartless prick for a father, but right now, the cycle of survival I’m in won’t allow me to think past the next five minutes or when I might be able to grab my next nap.
I shake my head, but don’t say anything.
Emmett’s exhale is audible and laced with frustration as he takes a seat at the foot of my bed.
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
Emmett pulls his hand from his jeans, pushing back the sleeve on his Blades hoodie to check his watch.
“Whoa!” I quietly announce, rearing back in jest. “I’m blinded by the diamonds on your Rolex.”
He looks at me, deadpan. “About an hour. I left your gift downstairs.”
This time, when I pull back, it’s from shock. “Gift?”
He rolls his lips together, and I swear to God I notice the pink flush that stains his cheekbones.
“I figured Blake would be getting spoiled enough. It’s always the moms who get forgotten.” He pulls off his black baseball cap, runs a hand through his thick brown hair, and replaces it backward. “At least, that’s what they say on the forums.”
He blushes further, almost like he’s revealed too much.
“More lavender bath salts?” I ask, deciding not to double down on his embarrassment.
“Actually, yes.” He chuckles. “Plus something else … but you’ll have to open that one to find out.”
I narrow my eyes at him, tipping my head to the side, which causes my messy bun to fall lopsided. “You can be a real mystery, Mr. Richards.”
Of all the responses I anticipated, a wink was not on the list. Goose bumps break out over every inch of my body, and I wrap my arms around my middle, which is almost back to normal already.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” It’s small talk, and I hate it, but I’ll say anything if it shifts my focus away from the memory of his wink.
“Taking you and Blake out wherever you want to go,” he replies without a beat of hesitation.
I stare back at him, wondering where I zoned out and missed a part of the conversation. “Taking us out?”
He rises to his feet, gently rocking Blake’s bassinet. “Yeah. If you want to, that is. Scott said that you’ve been pretty much stuck inside, and the weather is a little warmer today.”
My eyes drift out of my bedroom window. Bright blue skies and the tiniest buds on the trees promise the first signs of spring.
“Don’t you have other stuff you need to do?”
“Like what?” he counters.
I bite down on my bottom lip. I’d love nothing more than to head to Prospect Park—one of my favorite places in Brooklyn. Still, I already feel like Emmett has gone way beyond helping me out.
“I don’t know. Gym time, practice, chilling out at—”
“My afternoon is free,” he cuts me off, voice soft but sure.
I’m about to accept his offer and then shake my head at the final second. “It’s too much to ask. Besides, we couldn’t fit Blake’s stroller in your Aston Martin.”
“I’m in the G-Wagon.”
Emmett steps toward me and leans down until our faces are level. A waft of his woodsy cologne reaches me, and I subtly inhale it into my lungs. Mixed with eucalyptus, it’s the perfect post-shower scent.
“What other shit excuses have you got for me, Miss Quinn?”
I’d laugh if it wouldn’t risk waking Blake.
“I need to take a shower and get dressed,” I say.
His eyes drop down my body. Despite my wearing pink sleep shorts and a matching long-sleeved top, Emmett hasn’t looked below my neck once.
Well, not until this moment anyway.
He snaps his eyes back to mine, prominent jawline tightening a fraction. “I can wait.”
“You don’t have to.” I try again, more for the benefit of my growing guilt.
Emmett completely ignores my weak protest just as Blake begins to wake. “Where do you want to go?”
It’s my turn to flush. “Prospect Park.” I haven’t been there since I got back from Austin. “I think Blake would like to see the ducks.”
When my daughter releases a soft sob, I climb to my feet and lift her out of the bassinet, holding her against my chest.
She smells amazing—a baby scent Mom says to make the most of since it will fade as she grows older.
Emmett moves to the other side of my room, picking up Blake’s diaper bag and setting it on the bed next to us. “Does she have everything she needs in here?”
When our eyes connect, I know he can see the emotion as it coats my vision.
“Is everything okay?” His voice is layered with concern.
The temptation to admit the truth—that his kindness is the reason behind the lump forming in my throat—is strong. Tucker should be the one sorting Blake’s bag even if he’s the last person I’d want to take her to the park for the first time.
I swallow past the lump, feeling a sense of relief that it’s Emmett instead of my ex.
“Hormones,” is all I say in the end. It’s an easy lie and a more than believable one too. When new mothers claim that having a baby fucks with your emotions, they aren’t freaking kidding.
He looks like he wants to say something, although he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches a hand out to Blake, smoothing a huge palm down her back.
Her sobs ebb in response, although I chalk it up to a coincidence. This man might be comfortable around children, but there’s no way he can be a full-on baby whisperer.
“All right.” Emmett’s voice is a touch gravelly. “Do you want me to watch her while you take a shower? I’d ask Scott, but it might be dark by the time he’s climbed the stairs.” He snorts a laugh, which pulls one from me.
“Yes, thanks,” I reply, setting a calmer Blake back down in her bassinet. “Her diaper bag has everything she needs in it.” Our eyes connect again, spreading a warm, safe feeling throughout me. “I’ll be right back.”