“Mallory was lucky to have you as a friend.”
The words sting, especially “was,” because it’s a reminder that my best friend is gone forever. She was so young and so full of life.
“I miss her,” I say softly.
“I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could say or do.”
I munch on my cookies, tears blurring my vision. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know.”
“It helps that I have to keep it together for Avery.”
“Hey, I’m almost to the register to check out. Can I call you right back?” Aubrey asks.
“We can talk later. I’ve got a client to get back to.”
“Take care of yourself, okay? And call me anytime.”
“Same. And send me pics of whatever you buy today.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I end the call and eat one more cookie.
I know my sister means well—she just wants me to be happy. But bringing a new man into my life right now just doesn’t feel right.
I don’t want to have to explain that I live with a man I’m not involved with, but I’m helping him raise a baby that’s his but not mine. Relationships start out all fun and games, but eventually, I’d have a guy on my hands who expected me to put time with him ahead of my time with Avery.
There’s no way I’m doing that. Avery needs me.
The only upside to meeting a man I like would be the welcome distraction from Harry. He’s undeniably hot and I catch him looking at me often, his intentions clear.
I won’t cave, but it’s getting harder to maintain my strong hatred for him. He can’t read my mind, though. All I have to do is maintain my stony exterior when he looks at me like he’s starving and I’m a gourmet meal.
I let him have a taste when we almost kissed, but that was a weak moment. It was a mistake. And it definitely won’t happen again.
Chapter Thirteen
Harry
I’m afraid to even breathe. It took me more than forty minutes to get Avery to settle down and go back to sleep after her nighttime feeding.
One deep breath or creak of the bed could set her off again. It reminds me of my military days tiptoeing around land mines. The stakes aren’t as high now, but I’m fucking tired. I really need the three-hour stretch of sleep between now and my five o’clock alarm.
It’s hard to get up and drag my ass to the gym on very little sleep, but I make myself do it every weekday. I sit on my ass so much at work that morning workouts are the only exercise I get these days.
I clear my mind and am almost back to sleep when Avery starts moving in her crib. She lets out a little cry, then another. I stay still, hoping she’ll settle herself back to sleep.
No such luck. Within thirty seconds, she’s wailing. I roll out of bed to pick her up, cradling her against my bare chest and rocking her. Every time I try to give her the Binky, she angrily spits it out of her mouth.
Winter told me she doesn’t talk to Avery between eight at night and six in the morning. She said she read in a book that parents should keep babies in the dark during their designated nighttime, and not talk to them during night feedings or changings because it helps create a sleep routine.
Avery finds my voice soothing, though.
“Remember the story I read you about the ducklings going night night?” I ask her. “This is your night-night time. Baby girls should be asleep at two in the morning. It’s dark outside.”
She keeps crying, so I start walking. I rub her back, rock her in my arms and even try turning on the shower in my bathroom to see if the sound of the running water might soothe her.
Nothing works, though. I kiss her rounded little cheek and turn to show her our reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“Look at the cranky baby,” I murmur. “She likes to make her daddy drink a whole pot of coffee at work just to get through the day.”
Avery curls her lip in a happy expression that gets me every time. I hold her close to my chest again, kissing the soft hair on her head.
“You want Daddy to turn on the Stones? I could dance you back to sleep, maybe?”
I push a few buttons on the wall panel that controls the stereo system in my bedroom and “Get Off of My Cloud” starts playing. Avery pauses for a second, but then wrinkles her face up and continues crying.
Swaying her gently in my arms to the music, I slowly sway around the room.
Three songs later, I can hear the exhaustion in her cries, but she’s still going strong. I, on the other hand, am about to drop.
Gingerly, I put her back in her crib, which really pisses her off. I feel a headache coming on, building at the base of my skull.