“I think he’ll be fine. He can’t stand on his own, and I’ve got a solid grip on his hands.”
Squatting down, the smile reserved for his son broke out on what was undoubtedly a devastatingly handsome face. Too bad it was on a dick. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words because a handsome smile on a dick would look weird. Okay, too bad it was on an asshole…
Cringing at that verbiage, I shook myself out of my thoughts and focused back on Remy and Toby.
“Hey, buddy. Have you had a good day?”
Squealing back at his dad, Toby started doing his bounce around thing, jerking my body with him. The kid was going to be as big as Remy when he grew up, there was no doubt about it. He was already ahead of his age group in size, and it was killing me that he was getting bigger.
He wasn’t mine, but I loved the baby cuddles and snuggles he gave me and how loving he was. My brothers were total assholes once they learned to walk and talk, and the thought of Toby turning into a version of them sucked donkey balls.
“Here,” I told him as I walked Toby closer and moved so his hands were closer to Remy. “You take him, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
Instead of taking him by the hands and continuing his walk around, Remy swooped down and picked Toby up around the waist, then lifted him into the air and blew a raspberry on his stomach, making his son squeal. The sight was heartbreakingly beautiful as both King boys grinned at each other. Even a stranger would have seen the bond between them at that moment and the fact Remy was an amazing father.
Knowing I had to get out of here quickly so there were no awkward silences or he didn’t snap at me about something, I made my way over to where my phone and purse were. It wasn’t that Remy was always angry or that type of asshole, it was just that he was overly paranoid about his abilities as a father to Toby, which blew my mind.
“Okay, his dinner’s ready to go in the fridge, and I’ve got boiled water cooling down in the bottles for when he has his formula later.”
That’d been Mom’s suggestion, to make sure the water was as pure as possible. Remy had read up on it after I’d passed the advice on, and now we boiled bottled water, regardless of how purified it said it was on the packaging.
Reaching out for the door handle, I ran through what I needed to do when I got home in my head, already checking out of the situation like always. “Have a good night.”
“Are you in a hurry?”
Frowning at him over my shoulder, I blinked when I saw how closely he was standing to me. He usually kept a good six feet between us unless he was taking or handing Toby over. He also never spoke to me about anything that wasn’t to do with Toby or the ranch we both worked on.
“Are you talking to me?”
A wry smile broke out on his face, and he at least had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. I was wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us.”
My nose wrinkled of its own free will. I swear, I had absolutely zero control over it.
“Um,” I mumbled, unsure how to answer. “I kind of have somewhere to be tonight.”
Remy tilted his head to the side, studying me. “Is everything okay?”
Was I that much of a lame-ass that the concept I might just be busy was way out of left field?
Pride stiffened my spine, and I straightened my shoulders as I prepared to give him my response.
“Everything’s great, it’s just I have a date tonight and I have to get home so I can get dressed.” Spinning to open the door, I shot over my shoulder, “As I said, though, Bub’s dinner is ready to go, you just have to heat it up. Have a good night.”
I didn’t see his expression or give him time to answer or snap something at me as I ran to my truck and got in it. It may sound excessive, but as soon as I was behind the wheel, I hit the lock button on the center console and punched the ignition button, desperate to get home.
Remy King might be great to look at, but he was hell to be around.
TWO
REMY
Hours after Santana had legged it out of my house, I was still stewing over what she’d said.
I knew I was defensive, and a lot of my responses or comments to her were brief or came out sounding wrong, but my situation was still fucking with my head almost eight months later.
It still felt like everyone was judging my ability to be a father or waiting for me to fuck it up completely. The paranoia and desperation to be the best parent to Toby were so bad that I stayed up at night, researching things online or reading parenting books and making notes. I’d even gone to a baby first aid class, so I knew what to do if he had an accident or got sick.