18. He Realized His Mistake
He Realized His Mistake
Toby
“Um, Toby…?”
I tore my attention away from the pot bubbling on the stove and glanced over my shoulder. Gwen stood just inside the kitchen. She’d kicked off her stilettos, but her suit jacket was clutched in her hand, dragging on the hardwood floor.
A dopey smile spread across my face. “Hey!” I gave the pot another stir. “I didn’t realize you were home!”
To be fair, I wouldn’t have heard a marching band of elephants over the racket Noah was making. Sitting in his portacot—my genius idea to contain his champion rolling skills—he squealed a happy tune as he played with the saucepans I’d fished out of the bottom drawer.
Gwen scanned the room with wide eyes. “What the—?” She winced when Noah clanged the enormous green spoon on a metal lid.
My smile was sheepish. “Sorry, doll.” Her glare sliced through my chest when the nickname slipped out. Christ . She’d just walked through the door, and I’d already screwed up. “How did your interviews go?”
Gwen shrugged. She slung her jacket over the portacot and leaned over to ruffle Noah’s fuzzy hair. Every movement looked like a struggle. The excited smile on her face when Noah showed her his big spoon—yeah, that was fake. She looked exhausted. Defeated .
I abandoned the stove, hopped to the other side of the counter, and pulled out a stool. “Sit down.” She didn’t shrug off my hand when I gently coaxed her across the kitchen. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?”
Gwen shook her head. “What is it with you and Marnie and cups of tea?” She dragged herself onto the stool and slumped over the counter, chin resting on her fist, mind ticking over.
My gut twisted. In the old days, I wouldn’t have thought twice about rushing over, wrapping my arms around her, and whispering silly things as I kissed her neck.
Gwen worried and over-analyzed every tiny detail.
Her brain never switched off. It was my job to help her with that.
I’d tell her everything would be okay, and she’d roll her eyes, but I’d see her smile before she nuzzled into my chest. Sex was a sure-fire method for success too, but that had been off the agenda since she’d lost her job.
I shifted uneasily on my feet. Just standing there was torture. I needed to do something.
“Oh!” I hightailed it to the fridge. “I’ve got just what you need.” I grinned at her over my shoulder. “Wine.”
Irritation edged Gwen’s voice when she said, “I’m still breastfeeding, I can’t—”
“Don’t worry. It’s non-alcoholic prosecco.” I grabbed the bottle and a glass off the top shelf. “It’s from the supermarket, so it probably won’t taste the best, but it’s got bubbles. Perfect for celebrating… or, um…” I shot her a tight smile. “Preparing your next plan of attack.”
I slid the frosted glass in front of Gwen and tore the foil off the bottle. Any worries of freaking out Noah if I popped the cork disappeared. The supermarket prosecco was about the furthest thing from champagne.
I held up the bottle and winked. “The twist top means it’s extra classy, right?”
Gwen didn’t laugh, but she didn’t complain when I filled her glass with bubbles, either. Her index finger circled absently around the rim, her gaze flicking between Noah and me as I scooted back to the stove.
“Toby.” Her sigh was heavy. “ What are you doing ?”
“Um…” Was this a trick question? “Cooking you dinner?”
Should I have left as soon as she’d arrived home? Was that how I was supposed to give her space? My brows knitted. But there were still a hundred things to do—finishing up the cooking, putting the leftovers in the freezer, tidying up, and Noah’s bath time.
Another sigh from Gwen. “ Why are you cooking me dinner?”
“Because you’re hungry?”
“You don’t need to keep pretending you want to help out. I’m home now. You’re off the hook.”
My head bowed. “I don’t want to be off the hook.” I swiped at my nose. “I want to be a good dad.”
“Tobes, you are a good dad.” Her sweet, reassuring voice did jack to stop my man-baby tears.
“I appreciate you lying through your teeth, doll, but we both know I can do better. Escaping my problems by burying myself in work was a move my father used to pull. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed. I loved today. I want to do more of this…even if your daily planner kinda hurts my brain.”
“It’s important to be organized.”
“Does Noah really need to go to Baby Rhyme Time and swimming lessons—”
“Yes. That’s what proper parents do.”
What the hell was a proper parent? Not mine. Gwen was pretty ace, though. “But does he need to do both on the same day? You’re doing too much. What if I take him swimming on Saturday morning instead? Or maybe…” I turned my head to glance at her with hopeful eyes. “We could take him together?”
“You never cared about any of this before.”
“I never had any idea before.” I tossed the tea towel on the counter. “Today opened my eyes to a lot of things, doll. The big one is that I love this dad gig.”
“Tobes, you don’t have to pretend, okay? I know you’re only making an effort now to protect the money.” She pushed the glass away. “Please rest assured you and Kay are welcome to keep your precious trust fund.”
The spoon in my hand froze mid-stir in the sauce bubbling in the pot. A traffic jam of old thoughts crashed into my head. Don’t rock the boat. Make a joke. Everything’s fine. Except…
Nothing was fine. I’d lost the most important people in my world. Ignoring the problem had never worked.
I drew in a deep breath. It was time to try a different approach. “Gwen, this has nothing to do with money. Or Kayleigh. I wish you’d stop reading her lies. Not one word she says is true. If I’m not at work, I’m here—”
“You don’t live here anymore.”
I braced my hands on my hips and took a deep breath. Keep it cool . “I agreed to move out because you said you needed space, and I believed that. I’d do anything to live here—anywhere—if it was with you. You mean the world to me.”
She dismissed me with an “Uh-huh.”
“Christ, Gwen, I’m trying. Can you see that, at least?
I can’t fix what I did, but I swear I’m making changes.
” And because old habits die hard, I flashed her a lopsided smile.
“I’ll even endure a lifetime of Stroller Squad if that’s what it takes.
I’m pretty sure one of the mums was planning to take me out with a burp cloth. ”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but she didn’t bite back. Instead, she asked calmly, “Which one?” and slid the prosecco back.
“All of them?” Her slight smile hinted she liked that answer. “Specifically, the one with the blonde ponytail and the enormous veneers.”
Gwen’s eyebrow rose.
“I’m a dentist.” I shrugged. “I notice that stuff. Don’t tell her I said that, though, okay?” I grimaced. “I wasn’t kidding about the burp cloth.”
Another tiny smile tugged at Gwen’s lips. Was it my attempt at humor or the prospect of my demise? Either way, I’d take it. My chest swelled from how much sunshine she was stuffing in there.
Gwen cleared her throat. “I, um…” She paused, her gaze dropping to the glass.
I turned off the burners, moved the pot off the heat, threw a quick look at Noah—still having the time of his life—and pulled out a stool to sit beside Gwen.
“Yeah?” I urged her gently. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes stayed on the glass. “I got a job.” It came out as a mumble.
“You’re…happy?” She seemed downright miserable. I reached out, my fingers barely touching her knee. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
Gwen shrugged.
“What’s wrong? Bad vibes?” She was good at reading people. I trusted her gut more than my own. “Did something go wrong in the interview?”
“The interview was…” Her laugh was short but light. “ Odd . The job sounds interesting enough. No two days will be the same.” She gave me a small smile. “It’s working for, um…” A breath rattled into her. Her fingers clamped the edge of the counter. In went another breath.
“Gwen?” My heart ached. I had no idea why she was on the verge of tears. Was it too soon? “Criminal work?”
She shook her head. “Banking.”
“Basically the same thing.” I laughed.
My father had talked about banking after a few too many drinks. Stocks, investing, and making money—who cared? Most of the rich people I’d grown up around acted like a bunch of self-important douche canoes.
“Gwen, will they treat you right?”
Her chin dipped in a nod. “Yeah.” Another small smile. “I think he will.”
“So, what’s worrying you?”
“ Everything .”
A classic Gwen response. “Spill it. I’m listening.” Noah chose that moment to start a new song on his pots. “Well,” I laughed, “as best I can over the maestro over there.”
She sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward. “He wants me to start next Monday.”
“That’s too soon.”
“It is too soon.”
“Can you ask for a different start date?”
Gwen shook her head. “My new boss is…” Her eyes slid to the ceiling, and she thought for a moment. “ Insistent .”
“Sounds like the dickhead you used to work for.”
She scoffed a laugh. “Not even close.”
“One hundred points in his favor. I already like him.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, if you can’t change the start date, Monday it is, then.”
“No. Not ‘Monday it is,’ Toby,” she snapped. “You have no idea .”
Shit.
The stool screeched against the hardwood floor as Gwen pushed back, ready to run, a thousand issues still to solve.
Shit, shit, shit.
I beat her to it. I was already on my feet. “Gwen, you’re right. I don’t have any idea.” Both my palms were up. I didn’t want her to run. We needed to talk. “You know I’m not good at this stuff. Spell it out for me.”
She gave me a little growl but sat down. “I’ve got a thousand things to organize. Daycare—”
“I can look after Noah.”
“You have a job.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “What’s your plan? Take a hundred sick days?”
“I was planning to bribe Judy into reworking my patient load, but sick days work, too.”
“You can’t just charm the whole world with brownies and dad jokes.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “That’s what you think.”