“Really?” Lyla raised an eyebrow at me. “What do you call what you’re doing right now?”
“Parenting,” I responded, somberly.
“Those are some parenting skills,” she teased as she rocked Emily back and forth, much to the baby’s delight. The look of pure joy stretched across her features was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
“I’ll teach you some time,” I offered seriously, as I shoved my hands in my pockets. To her credit, Lyla was trying really hard not to stare at my naked chest. For some odd reason, I didn’t mind the intimacy of it.
Besides, we hadn’t done anything, and it was insanely hot.
Lyla shifted as she turned her attention back to Emily. “Are you hungry?”
Emily made a noise that could be construed as a yes as she babbled happily. “Let’s get you changed first.”
“Can I help?” I was quick to ask as I gazed at my daughter hopefully. Diaper duty was one thing I couldn’t honestly say I missed, but I suddenly wanted to be part of the day-to-day upbringing of Emily.
After all, I had no idea how many of those I had left. It was hard not to be feel disheartened by my meeting with Abigail Windsor yesterday. Even the sight of Lyla and Emily talking to each other couldn’t dispel the heavy cloud that suddenly shadowed our happiness.
“Of course, you can,” Lyla said, brightly as she handed me Emily. “I’ll get her bath ready first.”
* * *
Lyla went to the bathroom that she and Emily shared and drew up a bath. She was careful to place her arm in the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold. Once she was done, she prepared the baby shampoo, and the small loofa she used.
She gestured for me to bring Emily who started gurgling and clapping her hands together as soon as she saw the basin. Slowly, I undid her onesie and placed her into the water where she splashed her hands happily.
“Gee, thanks, Em,” I said, sarcastically as I stared at my jeans in dismay. The front portion was wet, and Lyla couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips.
“Collateral damage,” Lyla warned as she shrugged, a smile playing on the edge of her lips.
“How come she didn’t splash you?” I asked.
“Because she—”
I interrupted her by splashing some water across the front of her t-shirt. The comical look of surprise on her face was enough to make me chortle until I noticed that the front of her shirt now clung to her chest provocatively, and I could see the outline of her breasts.
My laughter died off uncomfortably as I shifted, and we bathed Emily together in silence, careful not to touch each other lest we be tempted to cross another line we shouldn’t. Once we were done, we headed to the kitchen, and Emily quietly sucked on her bottle as Lyla fluttered around putting on a pot of coffee and making breakfast.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said finally, as I perched awkwardly against the counter, in my own kitchen.
“I want to,” she insisted as she waved my protests away. “Besides, I make a mean omelet.”
“Really? I didn’t know,” I said, surprise lacing my tone.
“You’re always out of here in such a hurry, you’ve never gotten to try them, so here, sit down and enjoy.” She pulled a chair out for me and gestured for me to sit.
Bemused, I watched her flit around the kitchen, going from one corner to the next as she took out bits and pieces of food, making herself right at home. It was a sight that filled me with an odd sense of peace.
It was as if Lyla belonged there in my kitchen.
Strange as that may sound.
Her shirt rode up to reveal her lower back as she tried to reach for the salt on the top shelf. She huffed in frustration as I got out of my chair and went to help her. I chuckled as I handed her the salt, our hands brushing against each other in the process.
“It must be nice to be tall,” she mumbled as she avoided looking at me.
“It has its perks, but so does being short,” I offered as I moved back to my chair.
Lyla pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave me a pointed look. “Only tall people can say that. What possible advantage could there be to being short?”
I thought about it for a second, scratching my chin thoughtfully in the process. “Nobody asks you to get stuff.”
Lyla barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s one thing.”
“Nobody asks you to play basketball,” I added.
Before I could continue my list, the doorbell rang, bringing our brief interlude from reality to a crashing halt. Lyla gave me a questioning look. “Should I get that?”
I shook my head. “I should probably get it.”
With my heart in my throat, I opened the door, mustering up as much fake bravado as I could drum up.
A young man who was in his early 20s with too much gel in his hair, and small murky brown eyes stared at me in disinterest. He looked like he was fresh out of college, or still in it, which made me wonder what he was doing here.
A wave of relief washed over me. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Clay Baker?”
“Yes.”
“Sign here, please.” He held up a pen and paper, so I quickly scribbled my name. “What’s this?”
“You’ve just been served.”
9
Lyla
I was clearing up the dishes as I kept one eye on Emily, and the other on the hallway outside the kitchen. Clay was gone for an awfully long time, and I was slightly worried.
I was probably just being paranoid though.
We were both a little shook up after Abigail Windsor swept into our lives, or rather their lives. She didn’t really affect mine in any way, not technically at least, but I did love Emily dearly, and I cared about Clay, so inadvertently, I guess it did affect me.
Not that anyone else would see it that way.
I glanced at Emily’s adorable little face smiling contentedly as she sat in her baby chair and wondered. What would happen if Abigail got custody of Emily? Would she treat her well? I certainly hoped she would do a better job with her grandchild than she did with her daughter.
It wasn’t that hard to imagine what caused Annabelle to run away after what Clay told me. He was half asleep and groggy yesterday, the truth spilled from his lips curling around us as I absorbed it all.
I tried to stop him, not feeling comfortable that he was sharing this with me while he was half dead and vulnerable, but he wouldn’t be deterred. He vowed that he needed to tell me, and that I’d more than proven that I was trustworthy.
After my initial hesitance, I listened quietly, my heart breaking more and more each second.
Poor Emily.
She really was better off with Clay Baker, who wasn’t related to her, but who cared about her as if she was his own flesh and blood. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to Clay. We both needed physical contact in that moment for different reasons, and I figured we’d just cuddle for a bit then I could sleep on the couch outside.
Next thing I knew, I was waking up to an empty bed, and my shirt almost all the way up to my collarbone. I flushed as I yanked the shirt down, grateful that Clay was in the next room with Emily. I hoped he hadn’t seen it, and there was nothing to indicate that he had.
Clay finally appeared, his movements stiff and stunted as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, his face as white as a sheet. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his normally warm dark eyes had aged a million years.
“Clay.” I reached out for him, alarmed as I pulled up a chair and made him sit in it. “What’s wrong?”
Clay shook his head back and forth, clearly unable to form the words he needed to. A kaleidoscope of emotions played out across his face, and each time he opened his mouth to speak, I leaned forward eagerly only for him to clamp his mouth shut.
Whatever it was, it had clearly knocked the wind out of him.
I’d never seen him so agitated, and I assumed that as a sheriff he’d seen a lot in his field of work. A mi
llion macabre scenarios ricochet all over my brain until it hurt from all the different ways I could come up with.
Not knowing what else to do, I clasped his hands firmly in mine, noticing with alarm that his were ice cold compared to my normal temperature ones. Maybe I should get help.
“Should I call a doctor?” I asked, my voice laced with mild freneticism. I’d never been in a situation like this before where I wasn’t sure if he was okay. Clearly, his mental state of mind was tough.
“No,” Clay said, firmly. “They won’t be able to help.”
“Clay, who was at the door?”
Clay’s mouth curled into a deep frown as he shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. My heart sank to my knees as I released his hand and moved, so I was standing under better lighting.
It was what he feared.
The Windsors wanted custody of Emily.
Not only that, but also apparently one of them was a hot-shot lawyer, a well-known one from the looks of it, and they seemed to have a pretty solid case.
“No,” I whispered as I sank into the chair opposite him, casting a worried and sad glance at Emily who was unaware that her life was about to change. She just sat there gurgling happily to herself, and maybe that was for the best.
Her whole life was about to turn upside down, and I had no idea how to help.
“They want Emily.” Clay’s hands clenched into fists. “Why? Why do they want her now? We were perfectly happy before they came along.”
“They’re her family too, Clay,” I reminded him gently. “I’m sure they want a chance to be a part of her life as well.”
Clay chuckled sarcastically. “Please! They haven’t made any kind of effort to see her since she was born, and the entire time Annabelle was away, they never once tried to see her.”
“Maybe they’re trying to make amends for what they did?” I suggested, hopefully.
I didn’t believe that any more than he did, but there had to be a reason for why they were suddenly interested in the granddaughter they believed was an illegitimate aberration. According to what Clay said, they believed Emily never should’ve been born to begin with.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“How do you think Annabelle ended up at my house?” Clay replied.
A cruel thing to say about one’s own grandchild, but sadly, there were people like that in the world. Emily had the unfortunate luck of being born into such a family.
Clay shot me a dirty look. “That’s such bullshit, Lyla. I know you don’t believe that.”
I sighed as I scrubbed my hand across my face. “I don’t, but I mean, what else could this be?”
“Revenge,” Clay said, darkly. “Abigail wanted to get the last word. Now, she will.”
“Surely they aren’t that petty?” I asked, my voice sounding doubtful.
“You’d be surprised. Read the rest of the file.” He nudged the file in my direction, shooting it a scathing look as if it was somehow responsible for this entire mess.
I tasted bile in the back of my throat as the file slipped from my hands. I wiped my palms on my sweatpants and opened the file, not knowing what to expect.
Going over it confirmed what I already knew; they’d hire their topnotch lawyer, who was a distant cousin-if the family name was anything to go by- or maybe they just had a rotating arsenal of lawyers. Just because the lawyer had the same last name didn’t mean he was related.
In any case, families like that could afford the best because they had the luxury of money. Something they just tossed away like garbage whenever they pleased. My eyes scanned the file, taking in their case.
According to the file, Clay was an unfit parent because he worked long hours at an unstable job, and he wasn’t married. He also didn’t make enough money to provide Emily with the kind of life she apparently needed.
* * *
After I was done reading, my hands were shaking with rage, and I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I wasn’t going to be any use to Clay nor Emily if I got mad over a piece of paper.
“Clay.” I stood up and crouched in front of him, so we were at eye level, but he still wouldn’t look at me. “What do you care what this piece of paper says? It’s just a piece of paper for Christ’s sake!”
I tossed it onto the counter dismissively. “It’s just stating variables. Those so-called offenses they listed against you, they aren’t even relevant to this case. They are not facts, and even if they could be considered facts, so what? These papers don’t show that you took Emily in as a baby and have been raising her for almost seven months now. That’s more than most people can say.”
Clay shifted in his seat, his eyes restless and wandering all over the room.
“I bet if the court knew what you’d done for Emily, they’d rule in your favor,” I said cheerfully, as I glanced over at Emily, who was looking at us with wide and serious blue eyes. Apparently, she found us more interesting than whatever babbling she was doing.
I gave her a wide smile and forced myself to keep my tone light and peppy for her sake. “I know that they are Emily’s maternal grandparents, but so what? That doesn’t give them the excuse to be dickheads, and they have been. All the court needs to do is open its eyes and see that they’ve ignored her for this long. That’s a sign.”
Clay turned his eyes on me, and he just stared. His dark eyes wide and unblinking. They were also sad, so impossibly sad that I would’ve given anything in that moment for him to just crack a small smile.
“I know what you’re thinking. The Windsors are rich, they could probably afford to pay the judge off, but if this goes to court, a jury couldn’t possibly rule in their favor,” I insisted.
I didn’t know much about how the justice system worked, but I’d watched enough CSI to know that a jury was their best bet. All they needed was a good lawyer who could appeal to a jury’s sympathetic side.
What was more sympathetic than a struggling single father trying to provide for his daughter? Someone who wasn’t even his own flesh and blood?
That should sell really well in court.
Or, not.
It all depended on how the truth was twisted, and the Windsors and their attorneys would definitely twist the facts to suit their case.
I was getting ahead of myself. I needed to pump the brakes before I said or did something stupid, and with the way I was feeling, it was almost certainly a guarantee.
“It’s going to be okay, Clay. Against all odds, you’ve taken care of Emily and proven that you were born to be a father, and Emily adores you,” I said, softly.
As if on cue, Emily began to sniffle, suddenly tired of all the boring grown up talk as she held her hands out expectantly. I sighed as I squeezed Clay’s shoulders briefly and went over to Emily. I picked her up, burped her and headed to her room, tossing one last glance Clay’s way.
By the looks of it, he wasn’t going anywhere. I murmured comfortingly to Emily as I put her in her cot. “Don’t you worry, little girl. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
Emily cooed at me, her face split into a wide grin.
“You’ll see,” I assured her as I kissed her forehead and made sure she was tucked in. She gave one long sleep yawn and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
When I got back to the kitchen, Clay was still in the same position. He hadn’t moved an inch, as if his feet were cemented to the floor. I rapidly put away the rest of the food, cleared away the table, and wiped the counters all while keeping an eye on Clay.
He just watched me like a zombie with listless eyes. Slowly, I approached him and placed my hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t shake it off, I moved even closer and wrapped my arms around him.
His body released a quiet shudder as he melted against my touch, and his arms came up around my waist, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck. I rubbed his back consolingly and brushed his hair back in an attempt to comfort him.
There was still so much to be sa
id, but for now, I knew he needed physical comfort, and I wanted to be here for him, and Emily
Whatever the cost.
10
Clay
My brain wasn’t working.
Or, it was, but in a sluggish, I’m stuck under water and everything seems kind of surreal kind of way. Like I was watching it all happen to someone else.
This wasn’t my life.
It couldn’t be.
Abigail Windsor wasn’t real. She was just a figment of my imagination, sent to taunt me because of my insecurity that I wasn’t measuring up as a father. I wondered if that fear would ever go away. That Emily deserved more.
I was aware that Lyla was talking to me, explaining the situation, and I thought she made some very good points, but I wasn’t able to agree. Not that I didn’t want to.
She was trying so hard to be upbeat and positive for me, and I liked her all the more for it. When she touched me, my brain sputtered and coughed like a failing car engine. It tried to rev back to life, but to no avail.
It was only when she put Emily to sleep and wrapped her arms around me that I began to show signs of coming back to life. My entire body began to regain its senses, and the first thing I was aware of was that Lyla was wearing a very thin shirt.
So thin it was almost see-through, and I could feel her body heat seeping through. I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to act on my lust, while my emotions careened all over the place.
It also wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her like that.
She was trying to comfort me, for fuck’s sake!
And my reaction was to get a boner?
Jesus, Clay, get it together man. You aren’t that type of person.
Lyla shifted, so that she was able to wrap her arms around me better, and a patch of bare skin rubbed itself against me. Not only was the shirt thin, but it was also tiny.
It was taking every ounce of self-control I had not to do anything about this, and even that was rapidly slipping away. I was beginning to forget the reasons why I shouldn’t, and all I could remember was why I should.
A Baby for the Officer: Boys of Rockford #1 Page 5
