Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
GRIFFIN
“What the actual hell?” I froze in the doorway of my own kitchen, blinking hard to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming.
Cardboard boxes towered in precarious stacks. Foam peanuts littered the floor like strange snow. Half-assembled metal contraptions I couldn’t identify dominated every surface. My kitchen looked like a warehouse had exploded inside it.
Violet stood in the middle of it all, directing a delivery man carrying yet another massive box through the narrow path between towers.
“Just set that one by the stairs,” she said to the delivery man, who nodded.
“What the fuck is happening right now?”
“Baby supplies. They arrived earlier than expected.” She didn’t even look at me.
I stepped further into what used to be my kitchen. “You turned my house into a warehouse.”
“I got what Hazel needs.”
The doorbell rang again before I could respond. Violet didn’t even look up.
“That’ll be Liam. Let him in, would you?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “You called Liam?”
“We need help. There’s too much to unpack and assemble.”
“It’s my house. You could have asked me before inviting people over.”
Violet finally looked at me properly, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Would you rather do all this yourself?”
The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time.
“Fine.” I stalked toward the door, muttering under my breath. “Not like I had plans today or anything.”
I yanked the door open to find Liam grinning on my doorstep, looking far too cheerful for ten in the morning.
“Morning, Daddy,” he practically sang, stepping past me without waiting for an invitation. “Heard you needed some muscle.”
“I don’t. She does.” I closed the door harder than necessary. “Apparently I’m hosting a flat-pack fiesta nobody RSVP’d to.”
Liam whistled low as he took in the disaster zone. “Bloody hell. Did you rob a baby shop?”
“Ask her.” I jerked my head toward the kitchen. “She’s commandeered my credit card and my house.”
Liam’s grin widened as he spotted Violet emerging from the kitchen, Hazel now cradled against her shoulder.
“Morning, Vi,” he said. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Very funny.” She shifted Hazel to her other arm. “Can you start moving the bigger boxes upstairs? I need to go pick up the nursery furniture.”
Liam stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, sure. I’ll haul boxes around while you go off on your merry way. Love that for me.”
Violet didn’t even glance at him. “Good. Glad we’re all on the same page.”
I leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Give me ten minutes and we’ll head out.”
Violet stilled, shifting Hazel higher on her shoulder. Then, slowly, too slowly, she turned to face me.
Liam let out a low, amused hum. “Yeah, mate. Not your best idea.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Griffin.” She blinked at me like I’d personally disappointed her. “You can’t be seen in public with a baby.”
The moment my name left her mouth in that tone, my stomach sank.
Right. The media shitstorm.
“You want to explain why a championship racer, who has never once mentioned a child, was spotted in a furniture shop picking out a cot? Because I don’t.”
I clenched my fists, frustration curling tight in my stomach. She was right, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
Violet sighed, a little softer now. “I’ll send you pictures while I’m there. You can approve or reject whatever. But unless you want this blowing up before your PR team can handle it, you’re staying put.”
I nodded once, stiffly. “Take Jace.”
“Who?”
“My driver,” I said, waving a hand vaguely. “He’s solid. Keeps his mouth shut.”
Her brow lifted. “And I’m supposed to just trust that?”
“You don’t have to trust him. You just have to let him drive you to the shop so you don’t have to take a taxi.”
She studied me for a long moment, measuring my words against whatever internal rulebook she operated on. Finally, she nodded.
“Fine,” she said. “But if he turns out to be some sketchy weirdo, I’m blaming you.”
“Yeah, because I regularly employ axe murderers.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response. I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick message to Jace. His response was almost instant.
Jace
On my way.
I relayed the message to Violet and she nodded. “Fine.”
For an awkward ten minutes, I moved boxes with Liam while she fussed over the baby.
I scrubbed down the coffee table, shoving takeout containers that had been there longer than I cared to admit into a bin bag, while Violet hummed quietly, adjusting Hazel’s blanket with that same efficient care she did everything with.
Like she’d already taken over, and I was just some background character in her mission to keep my daughter alive.
Jace arrived a few minutes later, giving me a sharp nod as he stepped inside. He was in his usual all-black ensemble: button-up, slacks, polished shoes that somehow never looked scuffed despite the amount of running around he did for me.
Violet shifted Hazel carefully into my arms. I froze, still not used to how small she was. Hazel stirred, her little fingers curling into my t-shirt.
“Feed her in an hour,” Violet said, adjusting the strap on her bag. “There’s a fresh bottle in the fridge.”
I barely registered the words, still caught up in the fact that she was leaving me alone with Hazel.
She must’ve noticed my expression because she shook her head. “You’ll be fine, Griffin.”
Liam snorted. “Yeah, mate. What could possibly go wrong?”
I shot him a glare before shifting Hazel against my shoulder, trying to remember how Violet had held her earlier. “If you’re not back in two hours, I’m calling the police.”
Violet rolled her eyes but smirked as she grabbed her coat. “Try not to break anything while I’m gone.”
I wasn’t sure if she meant the furniture or the baby.
I didn’t ask.
Jace held the door open as she stepped out, the cool morning air rushing in for a brief second before the door shut behind them.
The second she was gone, the house felt different. Too quiet.
I stared down at Hazel. She blinked up at me, completely unimpressed.
Then her face scrunched up.
“Hazel, please don—”
She let rip a shriek so loud and sharp it belonged in a horror film.
“What’s wrong with her?” Liam’s head poked round a stack of boxes, eyes wide.
“How the hell should I know?” I rocked her gently. She screamed harder.
“Try feeding her, mate. Babies eat, right?” Liam started patting his pockets like he might find a solution buried in his jeans. “I’ll call Violet.”
“No!” The word flew out, louder than I meant. Last thing I needed was Violet hearing I’d caved after ninety seconds.
Liam paused, phone halfway out of his pocket. “She said emergencies—”
“It’s not an emergency, it’s—” Hazel’s cries ramped up, echoing off the tile, shattering whatever pride I had left. “It’s just a very passionate performance.”
I deposited a screaming Hazel back into her car seat and darted to the kitchen. I yanked open the fridge so hard something rattled inside. I grabbed the bottle, nearly dropping it as Hazel’s screams grew manic.
Liam blinked at me. “She’s a baby, not Adele. Feed her.”
“I’m trying!”
I dripped some on my wrist the way Violet had done. Too cold. Hazel’s shriek hit a frequency that could shatter carbon fibre.
“Microwave?” I shot at Liam.
“Do you even know how long?”
I shook my head, already jabbing random numbers. “If I nuke it, is that child endangerment?”
“Probably, but she’s not getting quieter.”
Ten seconds. Checked again. Still freezing. My hands shook as I shoved it back into the microwave.
Liam jiggled a rattle in her direction. “She hates this giraffe.”
“She hates me.” I tested the bottle and swore. It was too hot now.
I dunked it in cold water, heart thudding like a penalty lap. Hazel’s cries wavered, then surged back stronger.
“We’re losing,” Liam muttered, waving the rattle like a surrender flag.
“I know,” I growled.
One more test. Warm. Perfect. I rushed back into the living room and scooped Hazel up, shoving the bottle into her mouth.
Silence. Glorious, immediate silence, apart from greedy sucking and my racing pulse.
Liam sagged against a pile of nappies. “I never want to experience that again.”
I glared at him. “We’re not telling Violet a thing.”
Hazel burped, a milky eruption all down my front.
“Yeah. We handled it.” Liam grinned. “How’s domestic bliss treating you?”
I grimaced, wiping the worst of the mess off my t-shirt with a burp cloth before settling a now-drowsy Hazel back into the car seat. She blinked once, then her eyes drifted shut. Satisfied she wasn't going to start screaming again, I turned back to the stack of deliveries.
I shot him a dark look. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
“And?”
“And it’s weird, alright?” I adjusted my grip on the box. “Having her here. Taking over everything.”
We maneuvered the box up the stairs, awkwardly angling it around the corner.
“She seems to know what she’s doing.”
“That’s the problem.” I pushed the box into Violet’s room. “She walks in and suddenly she’s running the show. Ordering stuff, rearranging my house, calling my friends.”
Liam dropped his end of the box with a thud. “Would you rather be doing it alone?”
I had no idea what I was doing. No clue how to care for a baby or what she needed. But admitting that felt like surrendering.
“It’s not about that,” I said finally. “She’s taking control without asking.”
He leaned against the wall, studying me. “You like being in control.”
“In my own bloody house? Seems reasonable.”
“But you need to think about what Hazel needs now.” His usual joking tone had faded. “And maybe Carter’s daughter isn’t so bad at figuring out what a baby needs.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. “She intimidates me, alright?”
His eyebrows shot up. “The great Griffin Michaels, intimidated by a woman? Alert the press.”
“Not just any woman. Julian Carter’s daughter.
” I lowered my voice, though she wasn’t even in the house.
“She’s smart. Capable. Doesn’t take any of my shit.
And unfortunately, she’s Julian’s pride and joy.
” I shoved the empty box aside. “Which means anything I say to her is going to be discussed over Sunday roast with the boss. She won’t even mean to burn me; she just thinks the sun shines out of his ass. ”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, after stabbing my finger for the third time. “Who designed this thing? A sadist?”
Violet glanced over from where she was organizing baby clothes. “Need help?”
“No.” I jammed the pieces together with more force than necessary. “I can handle it.”
Liam snorted.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He focused intently on the changing table, which was slowly taking shape under his hands. “Just enjoying watching the mighty Griffin Michaels defeated by baby furniture.”
“I’m not defeated. I’m—” The metal rod I’d been fighting with suddenly snapped into place. “Ha! Got it.”
Violet looked up, her expression softening. “Well done.”
“See? Piece of cake,” I said, more confident now.
“Great. Now you only have seven more steps to go.”
My triumph deflated. “Seven?”
“And then there’s the mobile.” She pointed to a smaller box. “That’s separate.”
I groaned, but returned to the task with renewed determination. I wouldn’t be beaten by a bassinet, of all things.
Liam finished the changing table first, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”
Violet inspected it critically. “You’ve put the shelving unit on backward.”
“What?” Liam circled the table, frowning. “No, I followed the—oh. Right.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Elite performance coach, taken down by flat-pack furniture.”
“Shut it,” Liam grumbled, already disassembling his mistake. “At least I’m past step three.”
“I’m working on quality, not speed.”
Violet moved between us, somehow managing to direct our efforts while simultaneously unpacking more supplies and checking on Hazel.
I watched her from the corner of my eye as I wrestled with the bassinet.
She moved with purpose, her actions precise and economical.
There was no wasted energy, no hesitation. Just calm competence.
It was the same quality I’d glimpsed last night, during those quiet hours with Hazel. A steadiness that made me feel both reassured and inadequate.
Hazel’s soft fussing escalated suddenly into full-blown wails. Violet immediately set down the package she’d been opening and moved toward the car seat.
“I’ve got her,” I said. I set aside the half-assembled bassinet.
Carefully, I lifted Hazel from the car seat. She was so small, her little body trembling with the force of her cries.
“Hey there,” I murmured, awkwardly positioning her against my shoulder. “What’s all this about, hmm?”
“Support her head.”
“I am.” I adjusted my grip slightly, one hand cradling Hazel’s head, the other supporting her body. “Like this, right?”
She nodded, a flicker of approval crossing her features. “She’s dry.” Violet stepped closer, her fingers brushing against Hazel’s nappy to confirm. “Probably just wants attention.”
I bounced gently, trying to mimic the soothing motion I’d seen Violet use. Hazel’s cries softened.
“There we go,” I said, relief flooding through me. “Not so bad, right?”
Liam watched us with undisguised amusement. “Look at you, all paternal.”
I shot him a warning glance but couldn’t muster any real irritation. There was something satisfying about calming Hazel, about feeling her tiny body relax against mine.
“Try walking with her,” Violet said, returning to her unpacking.
I paced the room slowly, maintaining the gentle bouncing motion. She quieted to a murmur.
“Success,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
Violet glanced up, a small smile playing at her lips. “You’re getting better at that.”
The simple acknowledgment shouldn’t have mattered. But coming from her, somehow it did.