Chapter 7
Atlas
We pull up to my place just before sunset, the sky overhead streaked orange and purple. Between a row of houses on the street that runs perpendicular to my own, the Allegheny River looks like it’s on fire in the waning light.
If Maddie’s impressed by where I live, she’s not saying anything.
I didn’t hype up my house in any way, but it truly is the perfect place to raise a kid.
I got turned on to this neighborhood by North who has a house several blocks over.
It’s a beautiful area bordering the river and close to the arena.
While I had not seen it as a perk when I first bought here, this is the kind of place that’s safe enough for kids to ride their bikes down the sidewalks and neighbors like each other enough to throw block parties.
“I sort of figured you for a downtown guy,” Maddie says, and I can’t tell whether it bothers her that I’m not. “Isn’t that what most single people do?”
“Probably,” I admit, just as I catch my really cute single neighbor, Sarah, from the corner of my eye. She’s jogging up to her porch and shoots me a grin and a wave before disappearing inside.
My eyes cut to Maddie who watches impassively.
I park on the curb as the movers I hired in Chicago have their truck backed up in my driveway.
A ramp extends from the rear and young brawny men carry in boxes.
We spent the past five days cleaning out Gray’s condo and packing up Maddie’s apartment.
Time was short, so I hired professional movers who came in and did all the actual packing once we’d sorted out what we wanted to keep and what we wanted to donate.
While we had to work closely together to figure out what was necessary and what was not, Maddie and I didn’t spend a whole lot of time talking or getting to know each other.
Even the eight-hour drive here was spent mostly listening to music, and the longer the silences were, the more it became too awkward to try for conversation.
Maddie’s eyes take in my house through the passenger window.
It’s three stories with porches on all three floors, dark blue siding and white shutters.
The small front and back yards are bordered by white picket fencing, just begging for a dog at some point.
I’ve never had one before because I travel so much, but maybe with Maddie and Grayce here, it’s an option we can consider.
I’m a big believer that all kids should have a dog.
God knows, my German shepherd, Frodo, got me through some tough times growing up.
I kill the engine and sit there a beat with my hands on the wheel of Maddie’s little Subaru, trying to slow my pulse.
The back seat is a mobile nursery—diaper bag, stuffed lion with one ear slightly gnawed and drooled on, a blanket that apparently has to be within arm’s reach at all times.
Grayce is passed out in her car seat, fists curled, lashes stuck together from a long day on the road.
“Welcome to Pittsburgh,” I say, voice low.
Maddie doesn’t answer. She stares at the house like it might bite.
I swing out, pop the back door, and lift the carrier as if I were carrying spun glass. Maddie shoulders the diaper bag without looking at me.
“I’ll come out and get the luggage in a bit, but let’s get settled.”
Maddie quietly follows me along the walkway, up the porch and through the wide-open stained walnut door.
The living room is a maze of boxes that are a combo of stuff from both Maddie’s and Gray’s houses.
We’ll need to figure out how to incorporate it all.
I want Maddie to feel like this is her home.
We step aside for one of the movers pushing a dolly stacked with boxes who nods with a smile. I hear booted steps, muted thuds, a squeak of furniture being assembled upstairs.
And then Lucky’s voice drifts down the hall, bossy and cheerful. “No, the crib pieces with the slats go to the left—yeah, perfect—Winnie, babe, where should I put this box of towels?”
I can’t help the smile that splits my face. Not only was Lucky the best sounding board who helped me feel good about my decision, he and Winnie stepped in to help us with the transition.
They directed a handful of our teammates this weekend to clear furniture from the two guest bedrooms so that we could fill them with Grayce’s and Maddie’s furniture.
I told Maddie she could bring whatever she wanted so that it felt like home, and surprisingly, the only piece she opted for was her sleigh bed.
Apparently, she saved up for a long time to buy it and I’m guessing she regards it as a symbol of what hard work can get you.
I glance into the kitchen and note that the high chair sits half-assembled in the corner. Someone parked a jungle of folded baby gates by the sofa. The bachelor vibe has been mugged and left for dead, but strangely, I’m not grieving it.
Heavy boots come bounding down the staircase and Lucky pops up before us. “Hey! You made it.”
Winnie is right behind him, a bottle of lemon-scented cleaner and a rag in her hand. “Right on time. I know it looks a little chaotic, but I think the movers will be done in about an hour. I’ve been unpacking the essentials you’ll need to get through the next few days.”
“Thanks, Winnie,” I say, gratefully leaning forward to give her a peck on the cheek, then a fist bump to Lucky.
But both their eyes turn to rivet on Grayce, still sleeping in the carrier. “Oh, wow,” Winnie breathes softly. “She’s precious, Atlas.”
And then, as if forgetting her manners, Winnie turns an apologetic smile to Maddie.
“Hi. I’m Winnie.”
I toss a thumb at her beau. “And this oaf is Lucky.”
“Hi, Maddie,” he says, leaning forward to offer his hand.
“Hi,” Maddie says politely as they shake. “Thank you… for meeting the movers.”
“It was our pleasure,” Winnie says, leaning to peek at Grayce. “She is an angel.” She glances up at Maddie, which I’m grateful for. I don’t want Maddie to feel displaced. “Can I…?”
Maddie smiles. “Of course. We need to change and feed her.”
I set the carrier on the rug and watch as Winnie efficiently works the buckle. I know she’s a devoted aunt to her niece, so babies are easy for her. Grayce blinks awake and instantly locks on Winnie’s smile like it’s a sunrise. Out comes an “ah-da-da” and two fists reaching.
“Oh my goodness,” Winnie coos, scooping her up like she’s the most precious thing ever. “Hi, sunshine. I’m Auntie Winnie. That’s how this works.”
Lucky claps my shoulder. “Movers are almost done. Nursery is fully put together and they’re finishing up Maddie’s room. Also, your dining table is now a staging area for approximately six thousand pacifiers.”
“Good,” I say with a solemn nod, because it seems like what a guy in charge would say.
Winnie straightens with Grayce on her hip. “We brought food. Lasagna in the oven, two more casseroles for your freezer, chopped salad, and there’s bread warming.”
“That’s really nice,” Maddie says softly.
I study her critically. Her eyes are shiny, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed. I feel it too—the movers carting boxes past framed jerseys on the wall, Lucky’s shoes by my door, Winnie humming as Grayce pats her cheek. My pristine, quiet life replaced by chaos.
“How about a tour?” I ask Maddie. It’s a good time since Winnie has the baby.
She nods and I point toward a short hall. “That leads to the primary suite. If you’d feel more comfortable there, we can arrange a switch out.”
“No,” she says quickly, almost harshly. “The guest room is fine, and I assume it’s near the nursery.”
“Yeah… upstairs.” I head up the staircase, Maddie on my heels.
The back bedroom door is propped open and two movers are on the floor working to put together the base of Maddie’s sleigh bed.
We step inside, skirt around the men and enter an attached bathroom.
“This is a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.” I walk through it to a bedroom on the other side. “And this is where Grayce will be.”
I’m happy to see it’s all set up, and I’m touched that Lucky and Winnie also hung the artwork that was in her nursery back in Chicago. Gray had picked it out all himself and those were items that easily fell into the “We’re taking that” category as we packed.
Maddie steps inside and looks around—everything ready to go.
Crib anchoring the large wall, her changing table on the one perpendicular.
Winnie even unpacked framed photos of Gray and Grayce that were in her nursery back in Chicago, arranging them on top of the tall dresser.
Maddie’s eyes land on the little white bookshelf stacked with books.
I learned very recently that reading to babies is important and over the past five days, I’ve witnessed Maddie reading books to Grayce, even though she doesn’t understand them.
But I guess it’s just like learning a language—you’ve got to hear it first. The more she hears, the faster she’ll learn.
“This was unbelievably kind that they set this up for us,” Maddie murmurs, her fingers touching a music carousel on the dresser.
“Lucky and Winnie are the best. They’re going to be the first to jump in if we need help—”
“I won’t need help,” Maddie clips out, the fight flaring in her blue eyes.
“Didn’t say you did.” My voice is tinged with hardness. I don’t like my good intentions being trampled on. “I’m just saying, they’re here for us should the need arise.”
Before she can retort, because I see she wants to, I step into the hallway and cross to the room I’d set up as an office area.
In addition to my desk and computer, it’s filled with what looks like all of Maddie’s personal boxes, all clearly labeled and organized so I know she’ll be able to find things easily until she can unpack.
“I’m sure we can get this all unpacked tomorrow,” I muse.
“I don’t need help,” Maddie says, peeking her head in the doorway.
“Of course you don’t,” I mutter under my breath, but she shoots me a glare so I know it was louder than expected.