Chapter 10
Riley
“We need to make a schedule that works for all three of us,” I say, dishing up my dinner and Ivy’s.
Spencer grunts from the sofa.
He’s tapping furiously on his phone with Ivy sleeping on his chest, her little snuffly noises making him pause every single time.
I swear, this man has freaked out over this little lady more times than I can count since I moved in.
Nothing can take a grown man down like a tiny baby. It would be adorable, if it wasn’t Spencer Lockwood, world’s most emotionally stunted man. He barely speaks to me unless it’s about something he wants. Like his laundry. I immediately shut that down. I’m not his damn mother. I’m Ivy’s nanny.
Not the same thing; not even close.
With a few boundaries set after the great key debacle of an hour ago, I think we need to iron out a solid plan. Schedules. House rules.
Just a few things to make sure all our needs are met and we don’t drop the ball again on Ivy.
The anxiety that threatened to take me down when I was separated from her was almost too much. I know I have baggage around losing people. And when it’s my fault, the fear is too much to override.
I should have asked for a key. I should have put Ivy in our room and then had it out with Spencer in the living room. Not outside. That was stupid. Not every thought I have needs to pass my lips.
I was getting better at managing myself before I left Ireland. Now, in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, I’m falling back on bad habits.
I make a mental note to check myself before I make an eejit of myself next time.
“Spencer?”
He looks over the sofa at me. “Yeah?”
Blue eyes meet mine. The square jawline of his, the half curl of his lips as he holds my gaze waiting for what I’m going to say next . . .
I swallow down a breath, my throat constricted.
The domesticity of that one interaction. My chest is too heavy.
Ivy squirms.
His hand falls to her back, making a small circle.
I drag my gaze from him to the food in front of me on the counter.
“Never mind. Let’s eat first.”
Low blood sugar can distort a woman’s vision . . . That must be it.
I loathe this man. His self-absorbed tendencies are everything I detest. I’m here for Ivy.
I bring my supper to the table and test Ivy’s milk on my wrist. I take one end of the table, leaving my chair back far enough that I can feed Ivy with one hand while I eat with the other.
Some of us have study to knock out tonight.
I’m trying to time block my domestic tasks and my study sessions and classes.
How else will I make it?
Spencer comes to stand at my side. I look up and reach for Ivy.
His brows drop.
Mine rise.
It’s the first sign of worry I’ve seen from him. Even when Ivy and I went missing for a few hours, he was more angry than worried.
“I can feed her. You eat.”
“No, it’s my job. Give her here.”
“Riley . . .”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Spencer.”
With a small chuckle, he hands her down and into my arms. “Suit yourself.”
I roll my eyes at him, and Ivy’s eyes are open, her fist in her mouth. Prying little fingers from gums, I slide the teat into her mouth, and she sucks, drinking her dinner down in big gulps. When she slows and her eyes start to drift closed, I pluck up my fork and start eating my own food.
Spencer pads toward his master suite, tugging his shirt over his head as he goes. His broad, muscular, bare back is all I see before he disappears into his room.
Here’s to another long night.
The blur of 6:10 on my phone glares up at me.
I let my eyes drift closed. The slight burn as I do tells me all I need to know about the amount of sleep I didn’t get.
Friday morning, and I’ve had exactly two hours and twenty-two minutes sleep. Thank fecking hell it’s Friday.
Rummaging from the room next door roused me, and now I’m wide awake.
Great.
I rub my hands over my face, loosing a long, shallow groan. Careful not to wake Ivy, I climb out of bed and right my twisted pajamas. Her soft breathing fills the silence.
The noises from the room next door have stopped.
I tap my phone and glance at the time, double-checking.
Six twelve flicks over to six thirteen. I guess I’m up.
It’s going to take one hell of a hot shower to revive me this morning.
Coffee, I need all the damn coffee.
I pad from the room and into the hallway.
Squinting against the LEDs lighting the apartment up like fecking Christmas, I wander toward the smell of sustenance.
The rich aroma of coffee wafts over me and I let it draw me in like a moth to a flame.
I’m not even ashamed to say I’d literally sell my soul for a cup of my favorite life force right now.
“Coffee?” I ask Spencer’s back, clad with tight T-shirt over bulky muscles topping his grey sweatpants.
He turns around, lifting a mug to his lips. “Sorry, only made one.”
Of course he did.
Daggers leave my eyes as I round the counter and start the process of making my own.
“I’m away until Sunday night. Your key is on the entry table.”
“Um, thanks?”
“You have my cell?”
“Nope.”
“I left it on the message on the counter for you.”
“Yeah, well I don’t have it, Spencer.”
He stares at me for a beat before plucking up his phone. “What’s yours?”
“My what?”
He tilts his head. “Your number, Riley.”
I sigh. I know I need to give it to him, but it feels too easy handing it over.
I’d rather he work for it.
“Write out another sticky note. I’m sure it won’t get thrown away this time.” I slide my mug of steaming caffeine into both hands, hugging it tight before wandering back down the hallway.
I’m inside my room when the details of the conversation sink in. He’s going away for the entire weekend. Without discussing it.
Logically, I know that he pays me to take care of Ivy.
But for him to leave for days at a time?
I never should have agreed to that part of the deal. For Ivy’s sake.
“Good riddance, Spencer. Take your time coming back. Ives and I are going to have a fine time without you.”
A grunt sounds outside my open door.
Cringing, I hang my head, eyes closed as coffee-scented steam fills my senses.
God above, you eejit, Riley.
A few minutes later, Spencer appears in my doorway as I’m lifting Ivy from her bassinet.
And he’s—
A cowboy.
His white cowboy hat sits on his head. A duffel bag hangs from his hand. Boots, jeans, and a shiny buckle complete his look.
I choke on the breath I fail to drag in, and Ivy starts fussing.
My messy bed hair, the baby in my arms, and my apparent inability to breathe have heat filling my face and neck fast.
“Note’s on the counter. Don’t toss it out this time. I leave straight from work. See you Sunday.”
He’s gone before I can reply. Ivy is suckling on my overheated neck, bubba drool running down my skin and between my breasts.
My little lady is hungry.
“Always, hey, Ives,” I mutter.
I potter around, getting her bottle ready as she snuggles my neck. Her little fingers grip and curl around my pajama top. With the apartment to ourselves, and the early start, we take our time.
When both of us are dressed and fed, I make the executive decision to attend classes via the Teams link today. I don’t want to drive this tired with precious cargo, and if I am completely honest, I have grown attached to the sofa. It was love at first sit.
I set Ivy up on one end of the sofa as she squirms and babbles away. Her sweet little baby sounds make the sleepless night a little easier to accept. Her blonde hair, a stark contrast to mine, is growing longer. With those blue eyes of her daddy’s, she’s going to be a gorgeous kid.
With my laptop set up and sky-blue headphones by my side so I don’t wake Ivy, I log into the university’s student portal and navigate my way to the online cohort section.
In person is always better than remote, but sometimes sacrifices must be made in the name of the people you are responsible for. A fact I learned too young but am glad for the lesson now. Forced to grow up fast when our parents died, but I can’t say that it hasn’t come with a few perks.
Being the head of our family has to be my favorite perk. My family is my greatest source of joy and pride—even on the days my eejit brothers mess up. No matter how much we fight sometimes, I know we will always have each other’s backs. Always.
Ivy loses a huffed cry, pulling me from my reverie.
Her pacifier has fallen from her mouth and is now resting precariously on the edge of the sofa cushion. I pop it back in for her and rub her chest.
“Nap time, sweet girl. Riley has to be in class, okay?”
She sucks on her pacifier, and I readjust her onesie before swaddling her in her pink wrap. With a soft sigh, her eyes fall closed.
“Good girl. We got this.”
The video bursts to life, the lecture theater in the frame as the professor says his good mornings.
Ivy’s eyes widen, her little mouth gaping as she screams.
“Bollocks! God dammit.”
Headphones, woman.
I turn on the headphones, and the Bluetooth connects immediately. Ivy’s cries settle as I rub her chest with soothing noises falling from my mouth, my gaze stuck on the screen. I can’t miss class.
When Ivy’s settled, I glance over to find her back to sleep.
Loosing my own sigh, I lean back into the sofa and watch. I slide the earpiece closest to Ivy up off my ear so I can still hear her.
Here’s hoping I don’t fall asleep in class like my girl here.