By the time I get into the living room, Lily is curled up on the sofa, watching television. Her eyes are glued on the screen, to the point where I’m not even sure why she cares if I’m in the room. I’m going to come out and say it: that kid watches way too much TV. I’ve said it to Bailey, who shrugs it off. My mom had strict rules about how much TV I could watch at that age, but it’s a free-for-all here.
If Lily were my daughter, this wouldn’t happen. I’d lay down the line—two hours is enough on weekends, for Christ’s sake. Yes, Lily is going to be my stepdaughter, but I’m still not sure how much I should intervene… so I keep my mouth shut. Well, I don’t keep my mouth shut, but I don’t push the boundaries too far.
I’ll bet when she goes to Theo’s apartment, he plops her down in front of the set and barely says a word to her all day. She probably watches five or six hours a day over there.
“So what’s the deal with that kitten?” I ask Lily. “Why does she have a horn?”
“Because she’s a unikitty.” Lily rolls her eyes at me. “Part unicorn, part kitten.”
“So is her friend a unipuppy?”
“No, he’s puppycorn.”
She knows far too much about these shows. “Hey, Lil. What about instead of watching TV, we try to identify some of the new bugs in your bug catcher in the bug book?”
I bought Lily a giant glossary of bugs, which she keeps on the coffee table so she can reference it as needed. I’m not sure if Bailey likes how into bugs her daughter has become, but hey, bugs are cool. Better than if she were into makeup, right?
Lily looks between the bug book and the television, weighing her options. “Could we do the bug book later?”
“Well, your dad is picking you up later.” In three hours. But still.
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s look up bugs!”
While Lily goes to fetch her bug catcher, I wheel myself to the kitchen to get some cereal. I notice when I’m opening the fridge that Bailey hung up a new sketch with a magnet. She does that all the time—puts up her drawing in places she knows I’ll find them.
This one is a sketch of the entrance to the ER where I work. I wonder if she drew it while she was waiting for me. She got all the details perfect. Even the old man who is always sitting on the bench right outside the ER, smoking cigarettes with one hand while holding onto his oxygen tank with the other. Someday I’m definitely going to have to resuscitate that guy.
Bailey is so goddamn talented. I have zero creative ability. Even my stick figures look bad. Not to say I don’t have good qualities. I’m decently smart. I’m a good athlete, even now. I know just about all there is to know about bugs without being an entomologist. But I can’t do anything creative. Can’t draw. Can’t write. Can’t play an instrument. Whenever anyone has that kind of talent, I’m filled with admiration.
I was nineteen the first time I saw Bailey draw. She was sitting next to the tree right outside our dorm, scratching away on her sketchpad. A stray strand of her hair kept falling into her eyes. She kept blowing it away, only for it to fall right back again, but she didn’t want to take her hand off that paper. She was so focused.
I was already nearly in love with her by that point, but that moment sealed the deal. I was hooked. I knew this was the girl I was going to marry someday. Most of my buddies were talking about how to pick up drunk chicks at parties, but I didn’t want that. I wanted her.
And now we’re going to get married. Holy shit.
Of course, it doesn’t escape me that I asked her once before. And she ended up dumping me.
She gave back the ring. Left it on a bookshelf for me to find.
I don’t think about it. Those kinds of thoughts won’t take me anywhere good.
I wasn’t ready then, anyway. The first time I asked Bailey to marry me, I wasn’t eager to get married. I wanted to stay with her, but I felt too young to actually get married. I was twenty-two—I didn’t want to be anyone’s husband.
Now I’m thirty-four. Ready to get married. Ready as hell.
Lily gets out her bug encyclopedia, and the two of us spend the next hour and a half looking at bugs. I have my doubts the kid will ever really be a “bug scientist,” but we’re having fun together and she’s not watching TV, so I count it as a double win.
It’s just about eight when the door to our bedroom cracks open, and Bailey pads out in her oversized T-shirt and bare feet. That’s how she’s slept as long as I remember. Right now, she’s wearing my Knicks T-shirt, which is swimming on her. Her copper hair is still a mess, sticking up in every direction, but I don’t think she’s ever sexier than she is first thing in the morning. No makeup. Half-naked. Bailey looks great half-naked—she’s got great legs. I’ve always been a leg man. (Ironic, I know.)
I want to run across the room and grab her. But that would be tricky because I transferred onto the sofa to sit next to Lily. I reach for my chair, considering it, but ultimately, I stay put.
“You guys want pancakes?” she asks, bending down to grab a skillet from the cabinet below the sink. Her shirt rides up, giving me a good shot of her bikini panties. Christ. Now I really wish I could run over there.
“Pancakes!” Lily shrieks. That kid loves pancakes. I would have made some for her myself, but the kitchen stove is not as accessible as I’d like it to be.
“You got it!” Bailey says. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip,” she says, rolling her eyes as if it would be absolutely ridiculous to consider any other kind of pancake.
“Chocolate chip pancakes, coming right up.” Bailey winks. “Noah?”
“Plain is fine,” I mumble.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“One chocolate chip pancake won’t kill you.”
“Please don’t tempt me, woman.”
A few months ago, I went to the doctor and got my cholesterol checked as part of my routine labs. And it was high. My HDL was normal, but my LDL was somewhat high, and my triglycerides were awful. I don’t know what happened, because I’m still young, I eat right, and I exercise plenty. I asked the doctor if maybe someone spilled some lard in my tube of blood. It’s just genetics, Noah, he said.
Of course, my mother is in her sixties and has great cholesterol. So if I inherited shitty genes, it’s obvious who I got it from. Just another thing I can thank my dad for, aside from cheating on my mom for half my childhood and taking off for the second half.
So I really want chocolate chip pancakes. Who wouldn’t? But Bailey makes great pancakes, even without the chips, and there’s this sugar-free maple syrup that I like, so it’s fine. I can’t blow this off. I’ve seen too many guys in the ER with heart attacks in their forties.
Except as she’s making the pancakes, I can smell the melting chocolate. Damn it.
I finally crack and climb into my chair, leaving Lily to turn the TV back on. I should go shower because Theo is going to be here in an hour, and even though I know it’s my damn ego, I like to be dressed and wearing my legs when he shows up. The guy can’t stand me. Bailey says I’m wrong, but there’s definitely a pissing contest going on between me and her ex. Doesn’t want me fucking his ex-wife. Definitely won’t be happy about me marrying her. Good thing it’s not up to him.
The kitchen is too tempting, so instead of showering, I wheel myself over there, where Bailey is humming to herself as she flips the pancake, her hips swaying to a song that’s in her head. She’s making the pancakes in multiple sizes, because Lily likes to have “Daddy pancakes, Mommy pancakes, and Baby pancakes.” I grab her from behind, and she squeals before falling into my lap.
“You’re going to make me burn the pancakes!” she scolds me.
I focus on the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her slightly upturned nose. “Eh, it’s not worth it if they don’t have chocolate chips.”
She rolls her eyes, but rewards me with a chocolate chip she swipes from the bag on the counter. She feeds it to be, her fingers lingering on my lips. “There
. Are you happy now?”
In an hour, Theo will be here. And Bailey and I will have the whole place to ourselves. For two days.
I can’t wait.
I allow Bailey to get up to remove the pancakes from the pan. She stacks them in a perfect little pile in roughly size order, then I grab her again to pull her into my lap.
“We should get engaged more often,” she giggles.
I freeze. I know the joke she was trying to make—she’s glad I’m being affectionate this morning. But the way it comes out…
I asked her to marry me. She gave me back the ring…
I shut my eyes. Don’t think about it.
“Noah.” She touches the rough stubble on my chin. I need a shave. “Sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong.”
She chews on her lip. “What happened back then—”
“I know.”
“But I just need to tell you that—”
“I know.” My voice comes out sounding sharper than I intended. I clear my throat. “It’s okay, Bailey. Really. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”
She studies my face for a moment, then sighs. “Okay. But I love you.”
I’m halfway through telling her that I love her too when her phone on the kitchen counter starts ringing. Bailey’s ringtone is Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,” which I joked with her was a hint to me when I first heard it. Now it feels like a bad omen.
Bailey climbs out of my lap and peers down at her phone. “Theo.”
Speaking of bad omens.
Her face turns an angry pink the way it always does when her ex-husband calls. If I’ve got high cholesterol, she’s got to have high blood pressure from all her dealings with Theo. But we don’t know because she won’t see a doctor except to get her birth control ring, and she won’t let me check it because “that would be weird.”
“If he’s canceling…” she groans.
“He wouldn’t do that again.”
“Ha.”
She’s right. Theo absolutely would cancel again. But I don’t want to be the asshole guy who’s bashing her ex.
Bailey glances at Lily, who is watching TV but is also peeking glances at us. That kid listens to everything. She doesn’t participate in our conversations, which makes me think she’s not paying attention, but then out of nowhere she’ll ask us about something we didn’t realize she’d heard.
“I’ll take the call in the bedroom,” she says, as she snatches the phone off the counter.
She’s leaving so Lily won’t hear the conversation if it gets ugly. And when it comes to Bailey talking to her ex-husband, it always gets ugly.
Chapter 3: Bailey
“What is it?” I bark into the phone.
That probably wasn’t the nicest way to answer the phone. But thanks to Theo, Noah and I missed out on our dinner at La Petite Maison, and he had to propose to me at McDonald’s. So I’m not feeling particularly nice.
“Uh, hey, Bailey.” Theo’s voice is low. I know that voice by heart—it’s his guilty voice. And since he can’t cheat on me anymore, there’s only one reason why he could possibly be feeling guilty. “Listen…”
“You can’t make it today.”
“I can make it,” he says. “But I had to pick up an extra bartending shift today and it starts at noon. So I can get Lily, but it’s going to be… later than expected.”
“How late?”
“Uh… midnight?”
I stare at the phone, baffled. “Lily is seven years old. She’s not going to be awake at midnight.” Or whatever time he will actually show up. Two in the morning? Three? Nobody knows when it comes to Theo.
“She can’t stay up this one time?”
“No, she cannot!”
“Come on, Bailey,” he whines. “I just want to see my kid.”
A year ago, Theo swore to me he was turning over a new leaf. And he has… sort of. He quit his band that was going nowhere and got a steady bartending job. He’s managed to make nearly all of his child support and alimony payments. But when it comes to being reliable about picking up Lily, he’s not doing nearly as well.
“You were supposed to pick her up last night,” I point out. “You can get her now if you’d like! Nobody is keeping you from seeing her!”
“Look, I’ve got to take this extra shift. If I don’t, I can’t afford your check next month. It’s a lot of money, you know.” His voice is tinged with bitterness. “More money than you really need, especially now that you’ve living with that guy.”
Theo had the nerve to suggest the payments be cut in half after I moved in with Noah. I told him to talk to my lawyer. Just because I’m living with someone, it doesn’t mean I magically have money in my bank account for all of Lily’s needs. Yes, Noah probably would pay for everything if I’d let him, but I’ve got my pride.
“Well, don’t worry,” I say. “You won’t have to pay alimony soon.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Why not?”
“Because Noah asked me to marry him. So.”
I hear him suck in a breath. “And you said yes?”
“Obviously.”
“Jesus Christ, Bailey. Are you out of your mind?”
I knew Theo wasn’t going to love this revelation. He needs to have a tantrum about it, so he can get over it, accept it, and we can move on. “No, I’m not, thank you very much.”
“You’re not really going to marry that guy, are you?”
“I just said I was.”
“But…” he sputters. “Fine, I can see dating him for a while. And wanting to save money on rent. But marrying him?”
“I fail to see the problem.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? He can’t take care of you. Not the way I could.”
“Take care of me?” I practically burst out laughing. “Are you joking? When we were married, you didn’t pay the electricity bill and our lights were shut off. Noah is a doctor.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. He… I mean, the guy is physically impaired. Is that really who you want protecting you?”
Again, it’s hard not to laugh. “Maybe I’m remembering wrong, but didn’t he beat you up?”
“I was drunk, Bailey.”
I bite my tongue from pointing out how many nights he’s drunk on a weekly basis. And the truth is, Noah could have leveled him even if alcohol weren’t involved. I have absolute faith in his ability to protect me physically. If Theo could see Noah with his shirt off, he’d change his tune.
Noah with his shirt off. Mmm…
Damn it, I can’t believe Theo isn’t coming to pick Lily up so we can have some time to ourselves.
“Don’t worry about my protection,” I say. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“That’s what you’re telling yourself, but… you’re not going to be happy with that guy. He’s not what you need to make you happy?”
“Oh, really? And what do I need?”
Theo is quiet for a moment on the other line. “Me. You need me.”
I snort. I can’t help it.
“I mean it, Bailey,” he says. “You’re the love of my life, and I’m yours. We have a child together. We should be together.”
Theodore Duncan is not the love of my life. I don’t know if there was ever a time when I would have said such a thing. Back when I was married to Theo, I would have said there was no such thing as the love of your life. But that was just me trying to protect myself. I knew even then that it was Noah. But telling myself that sort of love didn’t exist was the only way I could make myself feel better about blowing it with him.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“Stop being dramatic, Theo,” I say through my teeth.
“I’m sorry, but I have to put my foot down. I can’t allow you to marry him.”
“Well, it’s a good thing it’s not up to you then, isn’t it?”
“Please, Bailey.” His voice cracks, and I feel the tiniest twinge of sympath
y. Or I would if I didn’t still remember all the nights he came home with another woman’s lipstick on his collar, stinking of unfamiliar perfume. “You have to give me another chance. I’ve changed—you’ve seen how I’ve changed.”
I snort again. “In what way?”
“I quit the band,” he reminds me. “And I’ve held down this bartending gig for a whole year. That’s a record for me.”
It’s true that he gave up his dream of becoming a rock star to take a steady job. And he has been better at sending me the child support checks. But he’s stood Lily up twice in as many days. And he won’t get a respectable haircut either—he’s still rocking the long hair with the receding hairline. Not that I’m shallow, but I can’t imagine him getting hired at any respectable job while looking like that.
“Please…” He takes a shaky breath. “I’ll do anything you say, Bailey. Just tell me what you need.”
I need Noah. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, how about if…” He pauses. “I can come get Lily now if you’d like?”
“I thought you had a bartending shift.”
“To hell with that. This is more important.”
I sigh. “It would be wonderful if you came to pick up Lily—she would be very happy. But it wouldn’t change anything between us.”
“Fine then. I’ll be right over.”
There’s a click on the other line—I guess Theo is on his way. But if he thinks picking his own daughter up on time is enough to win me over, he’s got another thing coming.
Chapter 4: Noah
I thought after spending an entire day with Bailey, hanging out alone together in the apartment, I’d be feeling great. Like a million dollars. But I’m not.
I’ve pulled a late shift the next day in the ER. Usually, I love work. The ER is my place. It’s my home away from home. Before Bailey, I might have considered moving in here if they offered it to me. I know every person who works here. I know where everything is, from the DNR/DNI forms to the kit for doing lumbar punctures to the solution that tells me if my patient is crapping blood. I even love the antiseptic smell of the place.
I can’t imagine loving any job more than I love this. Well, maybe being a surgeon. That was what I always wanted to do, but it wasn’t in the cards. This is great too though.
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