Once my list of things to get done is complete, I wake up Sam and give him a snack, then take him upstairs with me so I can get us both ready to go to Blake’s parents’ house. Needing to keep Sam occupied and mostly contained, I place him in his bouncer and move it next to the bathroom door so I can keep an eye on him while I do my makeup and hair.
I used to think when he was a tiny baby how awesome it would be when he was able to move around, but now I realize I took that time for granted. Getting him to stay still or in one place nowadays is almost impossible, which makes it a production whenever I need to do a normal task like get ready for work or to go out.
As I finish up my makeup, the anxiousness I was feeling most of the day is replaced with giddiness, and try as I might, I can’t help but be excited to spend time with Blake. After I’m ready, I put on a black tank and a pair of black leggings, then grab a long cream sweater that goes almost to my knees, the color the same as the wedge booties I plan on wearing tonight. Once I’m dressed, I go back through the bathroom and into his room to get his outfit from his closet—a buffalo plaid button-down shirt and jeans that my mom bought for him from one of the shops in town.
With how wiggly he is, it takes me more than a few minutes to get him dressed, and I swear I need a shower when I’m finished. Once I’ve finally wrestled him into his clothes, I scoop him up and take him downstairs, where I place him in front of the TV so I can get his bag packed.
Just when I’ve got his bottle made and some snacks shoved into one of the side pockets in case he doesn’t want anything Janet makes, the doorbell rings. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, letting me know the crush I know I should not have on him is still very much alive.
“Sam, Blake is here,” I tell my boy, and he turns to look at me and smiles, then gets up off the ground and starts to waddle toward me. I scoop him up and take him with me to the door, and as soon as I open it, he reaches for Blake, gurgling something I can’t make out.
“I missed you, too, big guy.” Blake kisses his cheek while stepping into the house, and I try to talk my heart out of melting, but it’s no use.
I can tell myself all day long that I’m not interested in him as anything more than a friend, but the truth is, I do like him. I like how he treats my son. I like the way he looks at me, and I like how I feel when I’m around him. Is he the most happy-go-lucky guy I’ve ever met? No. But maybe that is not as important as I’ve always thought it was. Maybe it’s more important to be solid, stable, and dependable, not the life of the party and the charming guy who always wants to have a good time.
“You look beautiful.”
His comment takes a moment to register, but when it does, those butterflies fly faster and heat spreads up my neck to my cheeks and down to the bottom of my stomach.
“Thank you.” Our eyes lock, and a different kind of feeling spreads through me. “I . . .” I clear my throat when I realize how husky my voice sounds. “I just need to grab his bag; then we can go.”
“No rush. I came a few minutes early so I could help you get him ready if you needed it.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, once again caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. “He’s ready, but I do need to get his car seat set up in your truck if you’re driving.”
“I bought a car seat today. It’s all hooked up,” he tells me, and I blink. “I figured that between him and Taylor, it would be good if I got one for my truck.”
“Right,” I agree, totally taken aback for the third time since he’s been here. “Then I guess we can leave.” I grab Sam’s bag, and he gets close, sliding the bag off my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asks me softly, and when our gazes meet, I have the sudden urge to hug him and tell him everything. Each time I’ve been in his arms, I’ve felt safe, something I haven’t felt in a while—not with everything happening. I just don’t know if I should place him in a situation where I’m not only depending on him to sign my paychecks but also to comfort me when I need it.