The Anti-Boyfriend

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The Anti-Boyfriend Page 6

by Ward, Penelope


  “Alright.”

  “Depending on when she wakes up, I’d give her another bottle either after her nap or around three. That will tide her over until dinner, and I’ll handle that when I get home.”

  I looked at the time on my phone. It was past ten minutes since I’d arrived. She needed to leave. “You’re gonna be late. Don’t worry about us. Go.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I owe you big time, Deacon. Big time.”

  She rushed around in search of her stuff.

  “Don’t forget anything,” I warned, taking one of the drinks I’d brought out of the tray. “Take the coffee with you.”

  She took the cup from me and looked around one last time. “Got my phone, got my purse…” She took a deep breath and ran over to kiss Sunny on the head. “Bye, baby. Be good for Deacon.” She looked over at me. “I can’t believe I’m saying that—for Deacon.”

  Me neither. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Text me if you need me. I don’t care how often.”

  “Okay, but I’m only gonna do it if I really need to, like if the apartment is on fire.”

  “Oh God, don’t say that,” she said as she rushed down the hall.

  After I closed the door, the silence was deafening.

  Sunny stared at me from her swing. I was relieved she seemed content. At least one of us was calm.

  “Okay…that whole ‘we’ll be fine’ thing? That was just an act so your mom wouldn’t worry. I’m freaking out, little girl. You need to help me. No surprises and we’ll be good.”

  She squealed.

  “Alright, you cool to just chill there for a few? Looks like, according to your mom’s schedule, we don’t have anything until eight.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Actually, I need to go next door to get my laptop so I can use it when you’re sleeping. I’m gonna take you with me to go get it. You okay with that?” Unfastening her from the swing, I lifted her out.

  We walked over to my apartment, and I grabbed whatever I could fit in my left hand: my laptop, some beef jerky, and chips. I wasn’t sure what Carys had to snack on over there.

  On the way out, I stopped at the mirror that hung on the wall near my door. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of myself juggling all these items along with the baby. When she spotted herself in the mirror, Sunny flashed a huge, toothless grin. Her almond eyes turned to slits at the joy of seeing her own reflection.

  Fuck, she’s adorable.

  “You like mirrors, huh? Well, at least I know one way to entertain you if all else fails.” I whispered in her ear, “I’ll tell you a secret. I like them, too. I look at myself way too much in this mirror before I go out. But I won’t admit that to anyone but you.”

  She laughed as if she could understand me, but she was probably just still amused by looking at herself.

  When we returned to Carys’s apartment, it was time for Sunny’s breakfast. When I put her down in the highchair, she started to cry.

  Shit. I knew this was a bad idea. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” I spoke to her like she was going to give me an answer.

  After I lifted her out, the crying stopped. She looked up at me with her teary eyes, and I realized this was a repeat of that one night. She wanted to be held.

  “Oh. We’re back here again?”

  She just kept looking up at me until she smiled.

  “No, no, no. What’s that for? You tryin’ to butter me up or something? So I’ll hold you? Not gonna work.”

  She smiled even bigger.

  A second time, I put her in the highchair. Once again, she started screaming.

  “Shit,” I said. Then I cursed myself silently for swearing in front of her. “You didn’t hear that.”

  Picking her up again, I worked to open the jar of bananas while holding her at the same time. I ended up feeding her while standing up. She must have been super hungry because she kept opening her mouth wide before I could even get the next bit of bananas onto the spoon.

  “Damn, girl. You’re hungry, huh?”

  Then it occurred to me: what goes in must come out. I shook that thought from my head, vowing once again to deal with it only when I had to.

  The spoon finally hit the bottom of the jar, and there was nothing left.

  She licked her lips.

  Carys had left another jar of bananas on the counter, so I assumed we’d just keep this going. She devoured that one just as fast as the first.

  Still holding her, I grabbed a piece of paper towel and turned on the water to wet it before wiping her mouth clean.

  “Alright. Step one finished. You should be good for a while, right? I’m gonna try to put you down in the swing, so I can check my emails.”

  The second her bottom hit the seat of the swing, she started to fidget uncomfortably and broke out in tears.

  Damn it!

  I told myself I was going to stick it out. Let her cry. But after five minutes of pacing while she screamed, I caved.

  “Okay, okay. You win.” I lifted her out.

  We walked back over to the couch and sat.

  “We have to stop meeting like this, Sunny.”

  Now, that she was calm, she looked up into my eyes. There was something so amazing about watching a baby stare at you with pure wonder. What was she thinking? Or maybe she was just seeing her reflection.

  Then she smiled again.

  At least she was happy.

  I was already exhausted. It was only two hours into the day, and it had felt like I’d been here for months. If someone had told me yesterday that I’d be stuck inside an apartment today with a baby, I would’ve dreaded it. But the reality wasn’t so bad—just different. Tiring, yes. But I could see, in theory, why people liked children—especially when she was content.

  When the clock struck ten, I realized it was time for the dreaded diaper change. I got up and walked with Sunny over to her room. Please don’t be crap.

  After lying her down on the changing table and opening up the diaper at the sides, I was relieved to find only piss.

  Score one: Deacon.

  Trying to remember the steps Carys had shown me, I changed Sunny into a fresh diaper as fast as possible.

  Returning to the main room, I looked at the clock. Jesus. Was it only ten thirty?

  It felt like eleventy-hundred years at this point.

  At eleven, I gave her the sweet potatoes and peas, then followed it up with formula as instructed—all while holding her in my arms so she wouldn’t freak out.

  The formula went down smoothly. Carys hadn’t specified whether to burp her, but it made sense to try. After a moment I was damn glad I had because a belch the size of Gibraltar came out.

  A text from Carys came in right around 11:30.

  Carys: How is everything going?

  I laughed out loud. Could you imagine if I were honest?

  Sunny won’t let me put her down, so my arm is numb, and I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to wipe my own ass later when the time comes. How do you do this every day, Carys? HOW DO YOU DO IT?

  I responded using voice-to-text since holding Sunny made it a difficult to type.

  Deacon: Everything’s perfect. Been following your schedule. She just had her lunch and formula.

  Carys: Awesome! I owe you huge for this.

  Deacon: How’s the first day of training?

  Carys: It’s going great. I’m so glad I was able to make it. I have a lot to learn. But I’m feeling optimistic that I can handle it.

  Deacon: Well, keep slaying. I’ve got everything under control here.

  Carys: Thank you again!!!

  Deacon: Anytime.

  I turned to the baby. “Don’t make an even bigger liar out of me, Sunny. Okay? We’re gonna turn this around before she gets home.”

  Returning to the couch, I counted the minutes until naptime at noon, still having no clue how I was supposed to get her to stay in t
hat crib without screaming her head off.

  When Sunny smiled up at me this time, I squinted. “What’s that for? You enjoyin’ watching me sweat? I’m not cut out for this, you know. Between you and me, I have no business playing Mrs. Doubtfire today. No offense, but I don’t want kids.” I leaned in and spoke in her ear, “But…I guess I can see why some people do. Your mama’s lucky to have such a sweet baby.”

  I made the mistake of placing Sunny on my chest while I lay back and turned on the TV. Within a few minutes, she’d fallen asleep there, and I was now afraid to move.

  I wondered if there was any chance in hell that I could transport her to the crib. Movement of any kind was a risk. But I really needed to use the bathroom.

  Lifting myself off the couch, I walked as slowly as I could to her bedroom. I’d never moved so carefully in my life as I placed her down on her back. It was like a miracle when she didn’t stir. She stayed sleeping, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

  I tiptoed out of there, and the first thing I did when I got back to the living room? I danced. I fucking danced—fists pumping, hips swaying. And I had to laugh at myself a little. I was a grown man dancing outside a baby’s room because it felt like the first time I could breathe since 8AM.

  But Carys did this every damn day. Over and over. I’d put in a few hours and thought I deserved some kind of award. I was pathetic for thinking it was some magical feat that I’d managed to get a baby down for a nap. But I didn’t care. I silently danced my ass off anyway.

  In record time, I did everything I could while Sunny was napping. I used the bathroom. I kicked my feet up on the couch and ate beef jerky. I caught up on my emails. I’d never moved so fast in my life, because I had no clue how much time I had before my freedom ended.

  My phone chimed, and I’d never wanted to murder a device so much in my life. I immediately put it on vibrate.

  A text had come in.

  Katy: You up for a quickie lunch date?

  Of course I knew lunch wasn’t what she was looking for. Katy was a girl I’d stopped seeing a few months back. It surprised me that “lunch” was still something she was interested in, considering I hadn’t called her.

  The thought of a quickie lunch date at this particular moment was comical. Sure, come on over. But if you make a sound, I’ll have to kill you.

  Deacon: Can’t. My day’s all tied up.

  Katy: Maybe next time then.

  Deacon: Sorry. Yeah.

  Sunny slept for almost three hours that afternoon. I got to decompress, work on a new design concept for my job, and tackle some emails. I considered myself very lucky—until she woke up.

  CHAPTER 6

  Carys

  MORE IN COMMON THAN YOU KNOW

  The sound of running water immediately registered when I walked in the door. Cynthia had sent me home at 2:30 with a bunch of information to review. I was thrilled that I’d be able to relieve Deacon a bit early.

  “Deacon?” I yelled.

  “In here!” I heard him holler.

  Oh no. This isn’t good.

  When I got to the bathroom, I said, “I would ask what happened, but I know what happened.”

  Deacon held Sunny stiffly away from his body as the tub filled. She had poop all the way up her back.

  “There was no way the wipes were going to clean this,” he said, sweat pouring from his forehead.

  I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket and took her from him. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Deacon immediately left the room. I thought he ran out to vomit or something, but he returned soon after with a bath towel. “Now I know where you keep them, in that small closet in the hallway.”

  “Thank you. You don’t have to stay. You look traumatized. I’m so sorry this happened.” I began cleaning her up.

  “It’s okay. You saved me in the nick of time anyway.” He stood in the doorway for a bit while I bathed Sunny. “I want to hear how your day went and tell you about Sunny’s. I’m dying for some fresh air, though. Why don’t I go for a Starbucks run and come right back?”

  “Okay, that sounds good.”

  After Deacon left, I looked down at my daughter, who was now laughing and splashing the water with her palms. She’d just started sitting up on her own, so bath time was a lot easier.

  “What did you do to Deacon, huh? You couldn’t wait till I got home?”

  She cooed.

  I bent down into the tub to kiss her head. “I missed you so much today.”

  After I dried Sunny off and got her dressed, I brought her out to the living room and placed her on the playmat.

  A few minutes later, Deacon knocked.

  When I opened, he handed me my coffee.

  “Oh, you’re the best,” I said, taking the stopper out of the lid.

  At the sight of Deacon, Sunny started crying.

  He shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. Your mommy’s home now. You don’t need me to carry you.”

  My mouth dropped. “Don’t tell me she cried all day until you picked her up?”

  He hesitated. “Not all day—not during her nap.”

  “Oh my gosh, Deacon! You can’t let that happen. You have my full permission to let her cry when she does that. Otherwise, she’ll never leave you alone.”

  “I know. But she does this whole sad-eye, pouty, quivering-bottom-lip thing. And I just…cave.”

  “She’s totally playing you.”

  Deacon sat down on the couch and rested his head back. “Seriously… I walked outside just now, and it was like I hadn’t been out there in years. How do you do it every day?”

  “It gets easier. The first time you take care of a baby is overwhelming. And in the beginning, it was like that almost every day. But you do get used to it.”

  “Well, you have my mad respect.” He sighed. “Tell me how today went.” He gave my leg a smack, and his hand lingered on my thigh for a couple of seconds before he abruptly slid it away, almost as if he’d caught himself doing something he didn’t think he should have.

  And of course, my body reacted instantly. I felt the effects of that minor contact long after it was over. I cleared my throat. “Today was truly awesome. Cynthia showed me around the office. I have my own cubicle, and it’s big. We went through some of the press releases the previous public relations person had put together. She also had me study up on the company—how many dancers, their names, backgrounds, their ranks, stuff like that. The day flew by, and then she randomly told me to go home at two thirty. Sent me home with more reading to do. But I was thrilled to be able to come back here.”

  “And I was thrilled when you walked in.”

  “Was that good timing or what?” I laughed. “Seriously, though, you saved my ass today, Deacon. The good news is, the nanny company assures me Sharon is all set to come tomorrow morning, so we won’t run in to this problem again. Apparently, it was a false alarm with her husband, and he’s home resting.”

  “It wasn’t a problem. As much as she made it challenging by insisting I hold her, it was cool getting to hang out with her.”

  I knew he was just being nice. I really did owe him.

  “Oh…” Deacon snapped his fingers. “I figured out she likes mirrors.”

  “She does. How did you discover that?”

  “I took her next door so I could grab my laptop and a couple of other things, and when I stopped in front of the mirror, she started laughing.”

  “Yeah. She gets a kick out of herself.” Deacon’s eyes lingered on mine, prompting me to ask, “What?”

  “Nothing. You look really nice. I don’t know if I told you that this morning.”

  His compliment gave me goosebumps. “Thank you.”

  It would have been easy to take that the wrong way and think maybe he was interested in me—especially with the way his bedroom eyes were fixed on me right now. But I knew better. Even if he were attracted to me, I suspected he wouldn’t cross the line—especially after seeing firsthand what my day-to-day
life entailed.

  Still, I appreciated his company and his friendship. “Can I make you dinner this weekend?” I asked.

  He took another sip of his drink and placed it on the coffee table. “You’re working all week in between taking care of her, and you want to make me dinner?”

  “You literally saved my job. I know how you are, that you won’t take money from me. It’s important that I pay you back in some way for today. I feel like the best way I know how is to make you dinner. I really like to cook. I just don’t do it too often, since it’s just me.”

  He nodded for a few seconds, seeming to think it over. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

  I smiled, trying not to seem overly excited. “Yeah? You choose the night. Friday or Saturday.”

  He checked his phone briefly. “I can do Friday.”

  I smiled wide. “Then it’s settled.”

  “Can I bring anything?”

  “No. I insist you don’t. But because I know how you are, and you’ll likely bring something anyway, a bottle of wine will do.”

  * * *

  The rest of that week went off without a hitch. My new sitter, Sharon, showed up on time the following two days, and Sunny seemed to like her almost as much as she liked Deacon. Then I worked from home on Thursday and Friday as planned. Cynthia said she wanted me to come into the office at least two days a week for the first few months, if possible, but she let me choose the days. Sharon seemed amenable to that arrangement, and we decided we’d choose the days based on her availability each week.

  Because I worked from home on Friday, I was able to get most of my stuff done early so I could prepare dinner for Deacon. My online grocery order arrived on time, so I got started preparing the food around five. I’d decided to make breaded chicken with a side of risotto, Caesar salad, and roasted Brussels sprouts with cranberries, bacon, and almonds. I ordered a store-bought chocolate cake for dessert. I’d told him to come by at eight thirty, which would hopefully be after Sunny fell sleep.

 

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