by Evans, A. K.
The buzzer on the waffle iron sounded, pulling us back to reality.
“Grab a seat,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bar stools.
I rounded the countertop and hopped up.
Trent set a plate in front of me and one in front of the seat next to mine. He added more batter to the waffle iron before he slid a bottle of maple syrup, a plate filled with waffles, and a dish of fruit between our plates.
As he did this, I stared at him. Completely, totally mesmerized.
Trent must have felt my eyes on him because he asked through his laughter, “Do I want to know why you’re looking at me like that?”
I grinned at him and swooned, “I’m just sitting here thinking about how true that statement was.”
“What statement?”
“The one about your many talents.”
The waffle iron sounded again. Trent removed the final waffle, added it to the batch, and came to sit next to me.
“Eat,” he ordered.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have somewhere to be?” I joked.
“Yeah. First up is in the shower with you.”
A shiver ran through me.
“Do you always have this much stamina?” I asked. “Because I’ve got to be honest. What you gave me last night and this morning was phenomenal. No doubt about it. But I’m a single mom, Trent. I’m exhausted more often than not. I’m not sure I’ll have it in me to keep up with you.”
“That sounds like a challenge, sweet cheeks,” he teased. “You don’t think I have what it takes to get you primed and ready for me?”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Obviously, you do. I’m just advising you that I might be asleep before you can make that happen.”
“I’ve had my cock in you four times already, Delaney,” he bragged. “You were asleep before three of those. You being passed out didn’t seem to factor in me being able to have you begging me to fuck you.”
I rolled my eyes at him because he was right and I had no other rebuttal.
Then, I shoved a massive forkful of waffle in my mouth. Trent just laughed and shook his head at me.
We’d been eating for a while when I remembered I needed to deal with my car situation. “Hey,” I started, getting his attention. “Before I forget, can you make sure you give me the contact information for the place that has my car? I need to touch base with them on Monday and see if they’ve looked at it yet.”
“They have,” he returned.
I gave him a questioning look.
“I forgot about it until just now,” he began. “Logan called me yesterday afternoon. He doesn’t do body work, but there is a shop right by his that does. They took a look at it and assessed the damage. Between the body panels on the front end as well as the radiator and fluids that need to be replaced and also painted, you’re looking at just under twenty-five hundred dollars.”
My eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m guessing there’s no way I can drive the car as it is, can I?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.” His reply was firm.
“Is that a no ‘you can’t drive it because I don’t want you to drive it that way’ no or is it a no ‘you can’t drive it because without the repairs it’s legitimately not able to be driven’ no?”
“Both.”
“Damn it,” I hissed.
“You can put it through your insurance,” he suggested.
Shaking my head, I stated, “I’ve got a thousand-dollar deductible anyway. I don’t need my insurance going up because I didn’t want to pay the difference of fifteen hundred dollars over the deductible.”
“If you can’t swing it right now, sweet cheeks, I can help you out.”
I gave him a look of disbelief and reminded him, “I hit your vehicle, Trent. It seems hardly reasonable that I’d do that and you are the one to pay to fix the damage.”
“It’s not a big deal for me,” he insisted.
“No,” I refused his offer. “I appreciate it, but no. I have the money; I just don’t want to spend it on this when it’s not something necessary.”
“Fixing your car is necessary,” Trent maintained.
I sighed. “I know that. I just meant that if I’d been paying attention, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Yeah, but look on the bright side. We’re sitting here now having breakfast together. I’m not sure this would have happened otherwise.”
He had a point.
“You’re right. Who do I make the check out to?”
Trent laughed.
“Relax. You don’t need to make any checks out yet. I’ll call Logan on Monday, let him know you’ll pay to fix it, and have him get the shop working on it.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“What about yours?” I asked.
“What about my what?”
“Your truck.”
He chuckled. “Delaney, baby, there was barely any damage to my truck. It’s not a big deal. Besides, like I said, if you hadn’t hit my truck, I wouldn’t have finally gotten what you gave me last night. I’m really not worried about the minor, barely-noticeable damage to the truck’s bumper.”
“I am.”
With his now-empty plate, Trent stood and moved around the island. “Let’s focus on getting your car squared away,” he started. “Then, you need to get through your legal battles. Afterward, we’ll see where things stand.”
I could work with that, so I gave him a nod. Trent and I cleaned up our breakfast dishes together. When everything was put away, I wondered, “So, you still have me for a few more hours. How are you going to spend that time, Mr. Michaels?”
Trent bent, pushed his shoulder into my belly, wrapped his arm around the backs of my thighs, and stood.
“Shower first,” he declared before he started moving back through the condo to his bedroom.
Once there, Trent dazzled me yet again with the best of his many talents and even showed me a few more. I was definitely having the best time learning all about them, too.
“I think I’m going to need to cancel tonight.”
I hated having to do it, but I had no choice.
Exhaustion was no longer the correct word for me.
Nope.
I’d trudged into full-on zombie mode.
It was Wednesday evening, and I’d just picked Tate up from Gloria’s. Trent was supposed to be coming over to have dinner and spend some time with my little man and me. But my baby was well beyond fussy.
He seemed okay when I got him back on Monday evening after work. We went about our normal routine, and Tate was his typical happy self that night.
When he woke up yesterday morning, he wasn’t as talkative as was usual. Even though it hadn’t ever affected him before, I chalked his mood up to the change of going from his dad’s place to mine. I fed him, got him ready, and dropped him off at daycare so I could get to work. Later that evening, I picked him up and he was in a great mood. So, I followed through with my plans to meet up with Gloria and give her the scoop on things with Trent and me. Thirty minutes into that visit, Tate was no longer happy.
Having a brood of her own, one that was much older in comparison to Tate, she understood my need to leave and reconvene our Trent talk another time. I got Tate home and tried to follow through with our routine, but he wasn’t having any of it. Knowing how much he loved taking his bath, I tried that. It worked for a bit.
But as the evening wore on, he became more and more uncomfortable. I began wondering if his teeth were coming in. I grabbed one of his baby-sized washcloths, doused it in ice water, and wrapped it around my finger. When I placed the tip of my cloth-covered finger in his mouth, he ground his gums down hard. Thankfully, it seemed to be just what he needed and allowed him to settle. Unfortunately, the moment he dozed off and I thought it was safe to remove my finger and put him in his crib, he woke up screaming.
So, I spent my night awake holding my baby who was in
pain so he could get a good night’s rest.
By the time morning rolled around, he was in better spirits. He ate well and didn’t have a fever. I called Gloria and asked if she’d mind watching him while I went to work since he might need a little extra attention than he’d get at daycare.
Gloria always offered to watch him for me, but she wouldn’t let me pay her. I didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness, so I only called on her for help when it was absolutely necessary.
This was one of those times.
I checked in with her throughout the day to make sure he was doing alright, and other than a few moments of fussiness, Gloria admitted he’d been a model child.
When I picked him up only an hour ago, he was happy to see me. I’d been relieved not only because I didn’t like seeing him like that, but also because I needed sleep.
Sadly, two minutes after we’d gotten in the car—the one Trent was loaning me—Tate was screaming. I drove home as quickly as I could and ushered us inside. This was not going to be a smooth meeting between Tate and Trent, so I called to cancel.
“What’s going on?” he asked. Hearing, I’m certain, Tate’s crying in the background, he pressed, “Is Tate okay?”
“I think he’s teething,” I returned. “He hasn’t really been himself since I got him back from his dad on Monday evening. I was up with him all night last night and it seems like tonight is going to be more of the same.”
Trent was silent a moment. At least, I assumed he was silent. Tate was screaming so loud, I couldn’t exactly be certain. Of course, Trent’s silence has me worried that he was suddenly realizing that starting something with me wouldn’t be like what it was this past weekend. I had a baby, one who required a lot of time and attention, and it wasn’t always smooth sailing. I didn’t know if Trent was prepared to take that on, especially when Tate wasn’t his.
Trent finally spoke. “Did you go to work today?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Trent—” I called out, but he cut me off.
“Take care of your boy, Delaney. I’ll be there soon.”
He disconnected the call before I could respond, so I did as he said and moved to take care of my boy.
Twenty minutes later, Trent had arrived. Luckily, in that time, I’d managed to get Tate comfortable enough so he’d eat a little. I didn’t bother with solid foods and simply nursed him.
When Trent walked in, he took one look at me and pulled Tate from my arms. “Hey, baby Tate,” he started, holding Tate up in front of him. “What’s the problem, buddy?”
Tate’s hands found Trent’s face as he squealed with delight.
Trent brought his eyes back to me and ordered, “Go take a shower and get out of your dusty work clothes, baby.”
My eyes rounded.
Time in the shower when Tate was here that I wouldn’t have to rush through?
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he retorted. “He seems okay right now. Go before he decides to change his mind.”
I moved back toward the kitchen counter and stated, “If he gets fussy again, you can try dipping this cloth in the ice water here. Hold it up to his mouth and let him bite down on it. That seems to be one of the only things that’s helping him.”
Trent nodded his understanding.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Go, sweet cheeks.”
I went.
And as much as I would have loved to take a little extra time to myself in the shower, I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Trent because I did. I trusted him more than anyone. I knew he’d be able to handle just about anything, especially considering he saved my kid’s life not quite two weeks ago. But Trent was an unfamiliar face for Tate. So, while I had no worries about Tate’s safety with Trent, I didn’t know just how long him being comfortable with Trent would last.
I finished up in the shower, got dressed, and did my thing. When I finally emerged from my bedroom, I was smacked in the face with a delightful aroma.
“What do I smell?” I asked, walking toward Trent noting my baby was still content in his arms.
Trent glanced down at the counter and back to me. “I called in an order for delivery on my way here. We’re having pizza for dinner.”
“What?”
“You said you were up all night last night and you worked all day today,” he started. “A home-cooked meal is not necessary right now. Food in your belly is the priority.”
“I’m going to cry,” I whispered.
“Come here, babe,” he requested, his voice gentle.
I went to him. He lifted his free arm and wrapped it around my shoulders, using it to curl me into his side. Trent kissed the top of my head. When I tipped my head back to look at him, he saw the tears in my eyes. His face softened before he touched his mouth to mine.
“Grab some plates,” he urged.
I looked to Tate and back to Trent. “Do you want me to take him?”
Trent shook his head and repeated, “Grab some plates so we can eat, Delaney.”
Noting the seriousness in his tone, I didn’t dawdle. I grabbed plates and napkins and brought them to the table. After bringing over some drinks, I sat down opposite of Trent and served each of us a slice.
I was halfway through a slice when I vacillated, “I want to feed him, but I don’t. I don’t want to ruin his current mood, but the mom in me is worried that he hasn’t really had much dinner.”
“Leave him be for a few minutes while you eat,” Trent began. “When you’re done, and I mean you’ve had at least a second slice, then you can try to feed him.”
My eyes narrowed playfully at Trent. “Were you always this bossy? If you were, I don’t remember it.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he admitted. “But I also wasn’t ever in a position where I saw the woman I love seriously exhausted because she went and put in a full day of hard physical labor at her job after she spent the entire night before awake while caring for her fussy baby.”
“He doesn’t feel good,” I murmured.
Trent dipped his chin. “I know that. I also know that you’ll do anything to make him feel better. So, while you do what you’ve got to do to put your mind at ease and take care of him, I’m going to do what I’ve got to do to take care of you.”
I offered a smile in return and said, “Thank you.”
With that, Trent and I returned to our food. I couldn’t muster up much conversation because, quite frankly, I was just too tired to focus. Trent, I’m certain, knew it and didn’t make me feel bad about it. When I’d successfully finished my second slice of pizza, I got out some of Tate’s food. Since he wasn’t himself, I didn’t think it was wise to try a new food tonight. The pumpkin would have to wait.
Tonight, he was getting peas.
I warmed them up, got him in his seat, and fed him. Tate had gotten through about half of what he’d normally eat before he started fussing again. Wishing he’d had more, but grateful he ate anything, I cleaned him up and took him out of his chair.
“I’m going to give him a quick bath,” I stated. “It’s late and we’re past his bedtime, so hopefully the bath will help him realize it’s time to sleep.”
“I’ll clean up while you do that,” Trent offered.
At that, I took off and gave Tate his bath. I tried putting him down in his crib, but he wasn’t having it. When I brought him back out, I declared, “He doesn’t want to go to bed.”
Trent took him from me and ordered, “Tell me what I need to do so you can go to sleep.”
“I can’t do that,” I scoffed.
“If you don’t want to fall flat on your face soon, you’re going to need to sleep.”
“He’s awake, Trent,” I pointed out. “I won’t be able to go to bed knowing he’s not in his.”
Trent’s shoulders fell and disappointment washed over him. “Fine. Then grab a seat on the couch
and relax while I hold him.”
Figuring this was a reasonable compromise, I did as he suggested.
Trent sat on the opposite end, turned the television on, and set the volume to low.
That was the last thing I remembered before I heard Tate crying and Trent nudging my shoulder.
My eyes shot open and I sat up. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Only about a half hour. But he’s burning up, baby. I think he’s got something else going on than just teeth coming in.”
“Oh, no.”
I put my hand to Tate’s forehead, found that Trent was right, and hopped off the couch. Finding the thermometer, I checked his temperature.
One hundred and one point six.
My baby was sick.
“It’s after nine, Trent. The doctor isn’t open. I need to take him to the emergency room.”
“Okay.”
I held his eyes briefly before I sighed, “I’m sorry this has ruined your night. I’m sure this isn’t how you expected things to go.”
“Delaney?” he called.
“Yeah?”
“Get whatever you need so we can take Tate to the hospital.”
Tate was crying and Trent seemed irritated now, so I got what I needed in order to take my baby to the hospital.
We piled into the SUV Trent loaned me since that was where Tate’s car seat was, and Trent drove. Just over four hours later, approaching one in the morning, we walked through the door to my apartment with a sleeping baby.
Tate had an ear infection.
I, on the other hand, felt like an awful mother. I hadn’t even considered there was anything else wrong other than teething, since he seemed pacified when he gnawed on the cold cloth. Beating myself up about it lasted for approximately thirty seconds in the emergency room before Trent shut it down.
After getting some drops put in his ears to help with the pain and some infant acetaminophen for the fever, I was given Tate’s discharge instructions and we were on our way back. Of course, that only happened after we’d waited in the waiting room for an eternity.
“Where do you want him?” Trent asked, holding up Tate’s car seat.
“I’d like to get him in his crib.”