Trusting You

by Ketley Allison

  And I’m that guy, the one expected to take care of all of it because she’s my kid.

  Are these the fears of a parent twisting my brain so hard it’s detaching from my skull?

  I fall back into my chair.

  “Stay,” I say before I think twice.

  “I’m sorry?” Carter asks, a hand remaining on Lily.

  This girl still can’t let go. And if Lily’s meltdown in the car an hour ago told me anything, it’s that she shouldn’t.

  “If I’m to master this whole dad thing, I’ll need your help.”

  Carter’s mouth is agape. If she doesn’t do something soon, her tongue will crack apart from dryness. “You can’t mean that.”

  I sigh. “I do. Fuck—sorry,” I say to Lily. “See? I have a ton of learning to do. And you know Lily so well. Maybe…temporarily”—I make sure to enunciate that last word—“you can stay and help.”

  “I…” Carter glances out the window as if she needs permission from Eden.

  “I’m giving you the permission,” I say. “That’s all you need. If you want to think about it, that’s okay. It’d be a big move, and you probably have a job, rent to pay—”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” That was quick. “You sure?”

  “Yes. So much yes!” Carter laughs through her tears, and she clutches Lily, pulling her out of the high chair with the ease of a mom handling their kids year-round, and spins her. Lily’s delighted. “I don’t care about anything but her. I’ll stay for as long as you need. I’ll stay forever.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say dryly.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean that.” Carter stops spinning. “I’m just so happy. So glad. Thank you, Locke. Thank you.”

  She runs over and plops a kiss on my cheek, Lily still in hand, and I wonder how long I’ll have her affection before she goes back to hating me for taking Lily away.

  9

  Carter

  Locke opens the door to his apartment, and I’m behind him, Lily on my hip. She’s been scrambling to get down since the restaurant, but I’m afraid to drop her feet onto a floor that could contain STDs.

  I don’t care if most STDs can’t survive on inanimate objects. If there’s even a small chance, Lily will find it and put it into her mouth.

  When Locke steps aside, the smell hits my nose first.

  I scrunch my nose. “Is that…?”

  “Citrus? Lemon?” Locke tilts his head. “The scent of cleanliness? Why, yes, it is.”

  Tentatively, I put one foot forward. Lily’s head is past my chin, craning to discover what environment she’s plopped into next.

  The wooden floors shine with varnish. His couch is free of debris and women’s underwear. Even his coffee table—a cushioned ottoman—doesn’t have anything except a few silicone coasters. His TV is mounted into the wall, no wires dangling, and do those electrical plugs have baby-proof outlet covers?

  “Yes, yes, and yes, to everything you’re thinking,” Locke says, shutting the door quietly behind me.

  “You’ve done your research,” is all I can think to say. Lily shouts and wriggles, so I set her down. Immediately, she’s on the move.

  And there’s nothing dangerous I can think to swipe out of her way.

  “Quit looking so gobsmacked,” Locke says. “Wanna beer?”

  I whirl to face him. He laughs then puts his hands up. “Kidding. But we’re really going to have to find you a sense of humor if you’re living here.”

  I’m still surveying his apartment. “I’ll let you know when it’s located.”

  He’s still chuckling. “Fine. I’ll grab you a glass of Perrier in the meantime. Ice?”

  “Sure. So…where’s Lily staying?” I ask as he clinks ice into glasses in the kitchen.

  “I outfitted the second bedroom as a nursery.”

  “Oh?”

  I can feel his exasperation even though he’s nowhere near me. “Yes, Carter, I have a second bedroom.”

  He comes up beside me and hands me the drink. Lily is pulling herself up on the ottoman, jabbering at the coasters.

  “I’ll show you,” he says.

  Locke puts his water down and grabs Lily, picking her up with a surprising swing. He carries her with us to a door that upon initially entering this place, I hadn’t seen. It’s hidden in a small L in the wall to the left of the couch.

  Locke opens it, and I’m aghast.

  It’s been painted a pale pink, with piglets adorned with wings flying along on a wallpaper border. The crib is white wood with a mattress and pastel pink chevron pattern. Beside it is a simple white changing station with drawers underneath for clothes, blankets, and the like. On the other side of the wall is a cream futon, and peppered among the big ornaments are small toys, stuffed animals, wooden blocks, and a Neapolitan colored play mat.

  Lily squeals, smacking Locke’s shoulders.

  “You like it?” His grin is almost as wide as Lily’s head.

  “She likes it.” I agree with her.

  “Awesome, dude,” he says to Lily, then lets her down and she beelines for the wooden blocks, gripping, chewing, and muttering as she smacks them together.

  “That kid is cute,” Locke says to me, but his attention doesn’t stray from the baby in front of us. It gives me an excuse to study him, from his freshly-laundered clothes to the clean-shaven face. His hair is slightly longer, sun-bleached blond, but mostly brown, and it falls across his brow until he slides the strands back with his fingers. His lashes contradict his coloring—pitch black, exactly like Lily’s, and plush with genetics that mascara has been competing with for generations.

  I catch the genuine admiration in the curve of his lips, his posture straight with pride now that he has his daughter.

  Locke looks my way, and I cut to Lily before he catches me staring, and it’s with sadness I look upon her, for every time I see her, I know it’s temporary.

  This man who doesn’t know me from any other girl in college gifted me with more days, and I’ll be forever grateful, but it doesn’t change the fact that he can take it away as easily as he grants it. All it would require is two words: Get out.

  And I can’t do anything about it.

  So be on your best behavior, Paige seems to say in my mind. My daughter is your daughter now.

  My ribs crush against unseen pressure, and I wonder if the clutches of despair will ever leave me.

  “I have a confession to make,” Locke says, breaking me out of my fugue. “This is your room, too.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I see.”

  “I didn’t exactly think I’d be getting a third roommate along with my second. But the futon over there folds out into a double, and we could get a divider, maybe, so Lily doesn’t see you while you sleep…”

  “That’s all fine,” I say. “I don’t want to intrude any more than I am. I’m happy to sleep with her. Paige and I switched off with her in our rooms for the first six months, anyway.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  I nod. “We gave each other five-hour sleep breaks.” Then I laugh. “Be thankful you get Lily now that she sleeps seven hour stretches at night.”

  Locke scratches at his chin. “Right.”

  And I feel like an idiot. The last thing I want to do is throw in his face the fact that I had Lily for the first nine months of her life.

  But Locke cuts through the awkward tension by saying, “Pureed peas for lunch? Maybe some banana medallions? I know that gets my saliva flowing.”

  I can’t help it and crack a smile. “You get on that. I have some phone calls to make.”

  And pleas of forgiveness. I’m about to ditch Sophie for at least a week and use up all my holidays at work without notice. Oh, and ask her to ship a bunch of my clothes. Yes, I will owe my roommate big-time.

  Locke pauses in the doorway. “Uh…”

  “I’ll watch her,” I say. I want to add that I’m used to having her at my feet while I multitask, but I don’t want to further our
tension by salting any more wounds.

  “Actually, I’d love to have her,” Locke says. “I’ll take some toys with me and put her on the kitchen floor.”

  “Of course!” I say, too brightly, then step aside so he can move past me.

  I try to school my expression as he tosses her against his chest, pulling goofy faces as he leaves with her. The guy’s almost a natural, and I don’t know what’s more surprising—the transformation of his place or his unexpectedly smooth transition from bachelorhood to fatherhood.

  Give it time, I think. It’s only been a few hours. As soon as Lily goes into overtired mode and turns into a demon, he’ll be screaming for help.

  I’m calmed by the thought, even smiling, and I pull out my phone to deal with the dreaded tasks of fleeing adult responsibilities.

  10

  Locke

  I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is, I have to prove Carter wrong.

  The chick moves like she can’t stand me, her expression even further evidence that she’s waiting for the moment I’ll fuck up and she can step in. Prove she’s the better parent.

  Which is why I can’t understand the need I have to be funny and make her smile.

  One would think it was to make Carter like me. But if I’m honest with myself, it’s because I like how it looks on her. Animated. Intoxicating. Addictive.

  And I love how I’m the one causing it.

  Lily’s biting at my heels—well no, that’s what a dog does, but you get the point—as I open and shut cupboards and fill the water to the right amount in the electric bottle warmer Ben convinced me to buy. It was actually more like, Here dude, get this, it looks like fancy baby shit, but I threw it in the cart anyway, thinking my kid deserved warm milk.

  I’m squinting at the measurements in the side of the machine, muttering as I pour water from a cup, when Carter walks in.

  She steps over Lily and hands me my phone. “You left this in the nursery. It’s vibrating.”

  I set the baby mechanics down and grab my cell, noticing who was calling. I inwardly cringe as I answer. “Hey.”

  “Is she there?”

  In a normal environment, my sister’s voice has abnormal decibels. When excited, she risks causing a noise shortage within a two-mile radius.

  “Yes,” I say, then go about finishing what I started. The light flicks on; I plop the bottle in. There, job well done.

  “Well, what’s she like? What are you like? How is she? When can I see her?”

  I know what Astor’s doing. She’s at her office, heels kicked off for her lunch break and back from court. Inwardly, she’s all over the place and excited about an unexpected niece (that she took a good month to come to terms with). Outwardly, she’d remained smooth, controlled, not a hair out of place. Corporate lawyers were like that, even ones only a year into their career.

  “Not yet. You promised you’d give me time alone, remember?” I reply.

  “Ugh, I know. But then I remembered she comes from no family. She should be around family, Locke. Her father, grandfather, aunt.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, but can’t help smiling. “Let me figure out how not to be an idiot, then you can come by.”

  “It’s been what, three hours? And she’s still alive. You’re doing a great job so far.”

  “Thanks. Listen, let me call you back when I don’t have my hands full.”

  “That’ll be about…never. You have a baby now, Locke.”

  “I appreciate the reminder. Totally forgot.”

  “I’m giving you twenty-four hours. Then I’m coming over there and jumping on that baby and smothering her with kisses.”

  “I don’t think that’s legal.”

  “Fair warning.”

  “I’ll see ya, Astor.”

  “Send me a picture. Love you, bro.”

  “A picture of my gorgeous self will hit your inbox soon,” I joke. “Love you, too.”

  I click off and notice the bottle’s ready, too. Carter has gone to the ground with Lily, somehow discovering where my pots were and a wooden spoon I had no idea I had and is handing them to Lily as an improvised drum set. When she sees me bend down to offer Lily the bottle, she might as well possess shark teeth for eyes.

  I quickly recall my conversation with my sister and how Carter could easily think it’s a conversation with a lady friend. I’m about to open my mouth and correct her when I think, Fuck it. Let her believe I’m making a date with another chick. Carter isn’t making any attempt to know me. Nor does she have to, I remind myself. She made it clear why she’s here and wants to stay, and it has nothing to do with my ass, regardless of how perfect it is.

  Weirdly disappointing. Definitely uncomfortable. I’m unused to a woman wanting to live with me but have nothing to do with me at the same time.

  “She can have this, but then it’s her nap time,” Carter says and gestures to the bottle Lily’s glommed to her face. “The pancakes were probably enough to tide her over.”

  I regard Carter like an elementary school teacher who just told me I got detention. “Didn’t she nap a few hours ago in the car?”

  “She takes two naps during the day. Maybe three today, since the plane ride messed her up.”

  Yup. Definitely a schoolmarm. “Fine, I guess.”

  She surprises me by apologizing again. “I’m used to being in charge of her schedule. It’s a hard habit to shake.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  Carter straightens from her hunch over Lily. “Because I feel bad. Like I’m ordering you around when all you want to do is spend more time with Lily.”

  “I’m no fool. You know Lily best, and it’s going to take me a while to figure it out. It’s why I asked you to stay. To help out. So, don’t feel bad for giving me the know-how.”

  Carter’s brows rise like she’s shocked I’m so reasonable. Man, when will this girl figure out I’m not out to get her?

  I figure the bananas and peas can be saved for later because Carter’s standing with Lily and making her way to the couch.

  “Jeez, that kid chugs harder than a frat boy during hazing week,” I say.

  Carter turns, and I brace an inner eye roll for a scolding, but she says instead, “You weren’t part of a fraternity.”

  I lift my chin in surprise. “You’re right. I wasn’t. I’m surprised you know that.”

  Some kind of emotion flits over her face, but I can’t discern it. Embarrassment? Bashfulness? Could chicks even be bashful anymore?

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t remember how famous you were in college,” she says.

  I shrug and go and sit beside them. Lily’s got one hand on her bottle, the other in the air, turning it this way and that as if fascinated she has fingers that can move on command. Her head is nestled near Carter’s breast, and I’ve completely forgotten what Carter’s saying.

  This baby, this little girl, she’s mine. And she’s regarding the world for the first time, including her own limbs.

  Carter clears her throat, and I immediately know why she’s frowning. “I’m not looking at your tits.”

  Her eyebrows jump.

  “I mean”—I glance at Lily—“boobs. Breasts. Not looking at them.”

  I’m mentally kicking myself in the dick right now. The old Locke would, of course,, check out the rack Carter possesses because it’s a good one, but this Locke, Dad Locke, is one hundred percent in awe of his daughter at a woman’s breast and the miracle of human life.

  How am I supposed to express this to Carter? Her mind is made up. I’m an immature, asshole player, and she’s the perfect modern version of Mother Teresa.

  Carter squints at me. “I think I’ll put her to bed now.”

  I give up. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  I watch Carter take the bottle away from a drowsy Lily and leave, giving a big sigh to her retreating back. But as if pulled by magnetic power, I follow behind.

  I’m at the doorway as Carter gently sways toward Lily’s crib, and w
hen she turns to the side, I see her dip her head near Lily’s, murmuring.

  It’s a song. I can hear it when I step closer. Carter’s singing to Lily, notes I don’t recognize, but the longer Carter goes, the heavier Lily’s eyelids get. Together, they sway, Lily’s ringlets moving in the small wind they alone have created, and eventually, quietly, Carter lays her down.

  A strange emotion fills me, similar to what I felt when scoring a touchdown, but this was lighter, airier, yet it lingers and feels full. Being witness to this moment feels so personal to Carter, so private, that I’m strangely ashamed and start studying Lily’s crib instead.

  I’m proud of that crib. Proud that I chose it, that Lily must like it because she’s not complaining upon being laid in it, and I also made sure the mattress cover was super soft. Nothing but the softest touch could caress my girl.

  I’m so focused on Lily that I almost miss Carter raising a hand as she pushes off the crib and wipes it against her cheek. A single tear has escaped, despite the sweet melody and holding Lily close, knowing she doesn’t have to go anywhere anytime soon.

  I wonder what Carter’s thinking—if it’s about Lily or her friend, or leaving the familiar behind to stay here, maybe even a boyfriend. But Carter sees me in the doorway and then smiles as if there were never a visible tear.

  I hesitate in smiling back. Whatever could make her go from so sad to so deceivingly happy, had to be too much for a girl like this to bear.

  “She’s out,” Carter whispers to me as she draws close. I step back, and she softly shuts the door.

  “Then I guess it’s just the two of us.”

  I say it hoping to elicit a smile. Not the fake one she just deployed, but her real one, the unwittingly bright one that hits me like a football every time I see it.

  She gives none. “Do you mind if I rest, too? I know I’m supposed to be in there with Lily, but if I could just lie on your couch…”

  “Take my bedroom.” I add, “Sheets are clean, I promise.”