23. Ben
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ben
CAR SEAT SHOWDOWN
By the time I realize I’m sweating through my T-shirt, I’m already too far gone. I’m kneeling in Katy’s driveway, surrounded by straps, anchors, and an instruction manual clearly written by someone who hates parents. Or joy. Or me personally.
There is no universe where this should be this complicated. I tighten one strap, but another one loosens and the base moves.
“Nope,” I mutter. “Absolutely not.”
I press down with my knee like the video said. The seat wobbles anyway, mocking me.
Katy steps onto the porch, cold lemonade in hand, taking in the scene.
Me. On my knees. The car seat upside down. The instruction manual open to page twelve of thirty-seven. My dignity nowhere to be found.
She bites her lip. “Hey, QB,” she calls sweetly. “You look like you’re defusing a bomb.”
“It feels like I am,” I agree, not looking up. “Why are there six buckles and three weight charts? This is a nightmare, Katy Cat. A nightmare.”
She laughs, the sound light and easy, and something in my chest eases even as my panic spikes.
I try again. Push. Pull. Click. But the seat still shifts.
I swear. Okay. I need a new plan.
I sit back on my heels, drag a hand through my hair, and exhale like a man admitting defeat. “I’m calling Logan.”
Katy freezes. “Logan? As in Maybe Daddy Logan?”
“He’s an engineering major,” I say defensively. “And ridiculously responsible. If anyone understands this nightmare contraption, I’m sure it’s him.” Also, he won’t judge me. And he won’t pretend this is easy.
I hit FaceTime before I can overthink it. Logan answers almost immediately. “What’s up, man?”
“I’m losing a war,” I say bluntly, angling the phone toward the car seat. “Please tell me you know how this works.”
Logan squints. “Okay, yeah. Relax. First thing, see that latch near the base? Feed the strap through there.”
I follow his instructions, hands shaking just enough to piss me off.
“No, other side,” he corrects gently. “Yeah. That’s it.”
I tug hard, and the base sinks.
My heart kicks.
“Okay,” Logan says calmly. “Now press down and tighten it. Now wiggle it.”
I do. And the seat barely moves.
“Less than an inch,” he confirms. “You’re good.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“If you tell anyone about this,” I mutter, “I will ruin your life.”
Logan laughs. “Relax. I don’t want to explain how I know this. But I’m glad you called. This stuff matters.”
Katy is doubled over, laughing. The front door opens behind her. Ella steps out first, keys already in hand. Her eyes flick to the car seat. To the manual. Then to me.
Declan follows her out. “Hey,” he says. He takes in the scene in one sweep. The fact that the car seat is finally, mercifully solid.
“Oh my God,” Katy wheezes, still laughing. “My Maybe Daddies teaching you how to dad. This is amazing.”
I end the call and shoot her a look. “Not a word.”
She comes down the steps, kisses my cheek, her smile softening. “You did good.”
Anything to keep you safe, I think. You and the baby. Anything.
“Was that Logan?” Declan asks slowly.
I nod. “Yeah, I needed his help to get this done right.”
There’s a long pause. “I see how hard you’re trying.”
It hits harder than I expect.
“Whatever happened between you and Katy,” he continues, “that’s between you two. But as long as you keep showing up, I’m good. And I see that you are.”
I don’t flinch. “I’m trying my best.”
“I was out of line at the baby shower.” He exhales. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”
I blink, caught off guard. “It’s okay.”
“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not. But… I get it now.”
He glances at the car seat again. Nods once.
“She’s lucky,” he adds. “Both of them are.”
My throat tightens. His approval means more to me and Katy than he’ll ever know. “Thanks.”
Katy squeezes my hand. Declan’s approval. Katy’s hand in mine. The car seat locked tight behind us. For once, I feel like I actually got something right.
“Oh, and Ben,” Ella says brightly, finally unable to hold it in anymore. “You know they install those for you at the fire house, right?”
I freeze. “What?”
Katy’s head snaps toward her. “Excuse me?”
Ella grins, fully unrepentant. “Yeah. Certified car seat safety checks. Super common. Takes like fifteen minutes.”
I stare at her. “Why,” I ask slowly, “did you not tell me this before I fought for my life in this driveway?”
She breaks, laughing loud and bright. “Probably because watching you figure it out yourself was way funnier.”
Katy groans. “Ella!”
“What?” Ella wipes a tear from her eye. “He did great. I just… forgot to mention it.”
I look down at the perfectly secure car seat. Then back at her.
“I hate you,” I say sincerely.
Ella straightens, still smiling. “You’re incapable of hate.” Declan opens the passenger door for her. She slides in, still grinning. “But just in case, we’re leaving before you throw something at me,” she calls.
They drive off together, laughter trailing behind them.
KATY
I think there might be something wrong with me, because Ben is drenched in sweat, his T-shirt darkened, his hair damp, his chest rising and falling, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life.
He’s still so focused. Still riding the adrenaline of making sure everything was right. Like the car seat wasn’t just plastic and straps, but a promise.
So, I make more lemonade. Mostly as an excuse to get him inside.
I shut the door behind us and lean against it, watching him pace the kitchen like he’s coming down from something big.
“You okay?” I ask.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just… needed that to be right.”
I nod. I understand that feeling down to my bones.
“You’re soaked,” I say, my eyes dragging over the darkened cotton clinging to his chest.
He follows my gaze and huffs a laugh. “Wow. Subtle, Katy Cat. But yeah, I’m disgusting.”
I smile. “You’re not, you’re my hero.”
He snorts. “That’s a very generous interpretation of what just happened in that driveway.”
I push off the door and step closer, lowering my voice. “You want to rinse off?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Yeah. Probably should.”
“The pool?” I suggest.
He arches a brow.
I hold his gaze. “Or we could take a shower.”
Silence. Thick and immediate. The air shifts. The tension palpable.
“Katy.” He studies my face, like he’s checking for nerves. For hesitation. “You sure?” he asks quietly.
I nod, heart pounding. “Yes.”
We make it upstairs without speaking. He’s half a step behind me, and I can feel him there like a second pulse. By the time I reach the bathroom, my hands are shaking.
Steam fills the bathroom fast. He steps under the water first, bracing his hands on the tile as it hits his shoulders. I try not to stare and fail immediately.
I join him a second later, warmth wrapping around us, familiar and new all at once. For a long second, neither of us moves. The water slides over his body. The space between us feels deliberate.
Then I close it.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
His arms come around me immediately. “For what?”
“For today,” I say. “For trying so hard. For caring more about doing it right than looking cool.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he says without thinking. The words land low and heavy.
I tip my face up. “You already are.”
His hands move, slow at first, reverent. Like he’s memorizing me.
I brush my thumb along his jaw. “You’re pretty perfect.”
He exhales a soft laugh. “I’m really not. But I try my best. You deserve that.”
“You make me feel confident, and you make me feel… wanted.”
Something in his expression breaks open. The way he looks at me after that is dark and intent and unmistakably sure.
Then he kisses me. And there is nothing gentle about it.
The water keeps running, and I drop to my knees.
“Teach me something new,” I whisper.
His eyes darken. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When he finally stills, breath ragged, his hands tangled in my hair, his head tipped up, I know there’s no pretending this didn’t change something.
He helps me stand and wraps me in a towel and dries me carefully, the tenderness instinctive to him.
He kisses my shoulder first. Then lower. Then lower still, patient enough to undo me.
And after I come back to myself, my lovable man is still there. Careful and in control at the same time. As if what just happened didn’t make him pull away, but closer.
We end up tangled in bed, damp and spent and laughing quietly at nothing.
The house is still.
My heart isn’t.