Chapter 10 #2
He’s paying well for my help when he could have just asked one of the many women who would have done it for free.
He’s bought not only toys, but a highchair and gate so my daughter will be happy and safe while she’s here.
He washed her clothes when she got messy.
Played with her at the playground. Came to our rescue when I called him, terrified, alone, and out of options.
And now he’s carefully cleaning my raccoon eyes with the gentlest of touches.
Tucker Bradshaw isn’t even remotely selfish outside of the bedroom, causing my brain to reach the inevitable conclusion that he’s probably not selfish inside it either. And I’m embarrassed at the way that possibility makes my heart rate pick up.
But if he’s not only after self-gratification, why work so hard to avoid any sort of commitment? Especially when it seems like he would be a pretty decent boyfriend.
“Can I ask you something?” I know it doesn’t matter, but I can’t help wanting to know more about him. Especially if I’m going to be sharing a living space with him until I move. And trying to convince others we’re a real couple.
Tucker is quiet for a second, like he’s not sure how to answer. After what feels like a very long time, he finally nods. “Sure.”
Any sign of the easy-going Tucker I’ve started to know is gone. Replaced by someone serious and tense. His mouth is set into a grim line, and all humor has bled from his face.
I’m going to guess he’s as excited to discuss some of the trickier parts of his life as I am to talk about mine. It’s another common ground we share, and it changes my trajectory, because I can empathize with his discomfort.
“How many seagulls would you have to find in your house before you got suspicious someone was putting them there?”
Tucker’s eyes move from where they’ve been following the path of the cloth to fix on mine. He stares at me a second before his face splits on a smile as a bark of laughter passes through his lips.
I smile along with him, oddly pleased that I was able to get that look of despondence off his face.
“That is actually a really great question.” He drops the rag into the sink and turns the water off, straightening away as he squints in thought. “Probably only one.”
“Only one?” I eye him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He rests one hand on my back, angling me into the bedroom. “You’ll understand once you meet my brother, Toby.”
I quickly scan the bedroom, looking for a familiar curly head. It doesn’t feel like we were in the bathroom very long, but it also doesn’t take long for my daughter to find her way into a mess.
“Birdie?” I start to move through the room, rounding the bed, hoping she’s simply on the other side.
“Little Bird? Where’d you go?” Tucker darts out into the hall, eyes running from one end to the other as I rush out behind him.
“Birdie? Where are you?” He stalks back toward the steps, muttering something about a gate at the top of the stairs under his breath, before coming to a quick stop two doors down from where I’ll be staying.
His shoulders relax as he lets out a relieved sounding sigh.
“There you are.” He goes into the room, flipping on the light. “What are you doing?”
I hurry in behind him, eyes landing on where my daughter stands next to a bed that likely belongs to the man kind enough to take us in. She’s got the blankets gripped tight in one tiny fist as her eyes bulge out, face red as she bears down.
“Birdie?” There’s alarm in Tucker’s voice. “Are you okay?”
My toddler’s chin tucks as she crouches a little, grunting out a single word response right as Tucker closes in on her. “Poopin.”
I’m not sure whether it’s the word or the stink that registers first, but Tucker seems to stumble a little, one arm coming across his face. “Oh my God.” He turns to me, eyes wide. “Is that smell coming from her?”
I cringe, because it really is potent. “She eats a lot of broccoli.”
Birdie grunts again, this time following it up with a loud, long fart that carries a little too much of a juicy edge for my liking.
Tucker gasps in shock, regretting it immediately as he ends up with a mouthful of poop air and starts coughing. “I think I can taste it.”
“I’m so sorry.” I grab my daughter, hooking my hands under her armpits and holding her body away from mine, just in case she’s managed to obliterate the back end of her outfit. “You should maybe open the windows.”
“I should maybe tear the house down and start over, because that smell permeates.” He flips on the ceiling fan as I haul my daughter away.
But instead of staying in his room to rectify the cloud of stench left behind, he comes with us, going directly to the windows of our room to lift the sashes. “Should you get that checked out?”
I set Birdie on the ground, digging into her diaper bag for the portable changing pad I keep inside.
“Are you trying to claim your poop doesn’t stink?
” I fling the pad onto the bed to protect the beautiful covering before centering my daughter on the surface.
I’m so engrossed with the process in front of me, I don’t really think about the words coming out of my mouth.
“Because I don’t care how great you are, what comes out of your butt is still gross. ”
I’m pleasantly surprised to discover Birdie’s bowel movement is well contained within her diaper, and go to work cleaning her up. It’s not until I’m through the first stack of wipes that I notice Tucker is silent.
I glance up to find him with his back turned, giving my daughter privacy.
I mash down the smile trying to work on my lips. “Thank you for turning around.”
He shrugs, big shoulders lifting and dropping on the movement. “Honestly, I did it for all our benefit.” His head turns to one side, not enough for him to see me, but enough I can see the smirk on his face when he says, “And because I’m great.”