Sweat collected along Zach’s spine beneath his T-shirt as he paced the condo, patting Sophia’s back while she continued to scream in his ear.
“I w-want Pe-pe-pegsis,” she cried against his shoulder for what had to be the thousandth time in the last ninety-six minutes. Yes, he was counting every single one. “I w-want M-mommy.”
“I know, honey,” he murmured to her as he passed the sofa, wondering if there would be rug wear when Tessa finally got home. “Mommy will be home soon”—God please let her be home soon—“and she’ll have Pegasus with her. Try to relax.”
But she just continued to wail and whimper and sniffle and wipe her face on Zach’s shoulder.
If he were honest, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He’d done everything conceivable to calm her over the last two hours after she’d woken just minutes after Tessa had driven away. He’d googled the hell out of “calming a three-year-old,” “how to get your child to stop crying,” and “new dad of a three-year-old,” attempting every rational suggestion. He tried to get her interested in her toys, tried to play games, offered her cookies he’d found in the cupboards, turned on a Disney movie. Hell, he’d tried every freaking cable channel on the damn television to distract her. Nothing had worked longer than sixty seconds.
Zach had considered calling in Renegades reinforcements in the form of Grace and Lexi. He’d considered calling Tessa and telling her to ditch the conference and get her ass back here. Truth be told, he’d considered a few even sketchier ideas, like carrying Sophia the three-mile distance to the store where he’d picked up the original stuffed animal to buy a new one or grabbing an Uber to the closest shave ice hut.
In the end, he hadn’t reached out for any of those crutches. Partly because he was embarrassed, partly because he was stubborn, but mostly because his gut told him it was the right thing to do. Because if he was ever going to be able to take care of her on his own, as one of the websites had so sagely advised, he was going to have to learn how to cope through the rough spots.
But, God, he was exhausted. Everything was hitting him now—the lack of sleep after spending unforgettable nights in bed with Tessa, his rigorous work schedule, the stress of finding out about Sophia and trying to ease into this sudden new role as a father. And, God help him, her crying ripped him to shreds. His whole body hurt with empathy for her distress. He couldn’t imagine everything she’d already endured.
“D-daddy,” she hiccupped, her voice drenched in anguish, her body as limp as a doll in his arms. “I want Mo-mmy.”
Zach squeezed his eyes shut as his heart broke. “I know, honey. I’m sorry.” He pressed his face to her feather-soft hair and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry he hadn’t known about her. Sorry she’d lost her mother. Sorry he was creating even more upset in her life. Sorry he didn’t know how to be a father to her. Sorry he was causing trouble for Tessa.
“She’ll be home soon. I promise.” As her cries faded to whimpers, he said, “I’m so tired, baby. Can Daddy lie down? I think it’s past my bedtime.”
She gave a few choppy breaths. “Will you re-ad me a st-ory?”
“Sure.” Finally. Something she actually wanted him to do. “Do you have books here?”
“Ye-yeah. In my room.”
Zach moved into the bedroom and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Only ten minutes later than when he’d last looked. This had become an endless day, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many times Tessa had felt this way over the last couple of years.
He chose a handful of books from a pile and moved into the living room again. Propping a pillow against the arm of the sofa, he lay back, stretched his legs over the cushions, and dropped the books in his lap.
With stuttering breaths and sniffles, Sophia shifted to her side and tucked her head beneath his chin. “I want Pigeon, please.” Zach was sure he’d heard her wrong until she reached out for a book in the middle of the stack. “Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog, please.”
That was when Zach realized that she’d have to stop crying to listen to him read. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and whispered, “Thank you.”
And only a few pages into Pigeon’s book, Sophia settled down. She even giggled at the story. After two books, Sophia transitioned into the adorable creature he’d gotten to know. After three, he was sure—despite all the challenges this little angel created in his life—she was burrowed into his heart for all eternity.
Tessa cradled Pegasus under her arm and tiptoed as softly as she could in heels up the stairs to the condo’s front door. There she paused, tilted her head toward the door, and listened, but she didn’t hear a thing. Not the television, not voices—at least there was no screaming or crying. But she wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.
Apprehensive over what she’d find inside, she took her lower lip between her teeth as she slowly depressed the lever on the door handle and pushed it open. If Sophia had been awake most of the time and Zach had finally gotten her to sleep, the last thing Tessa wanted to do was wake her.
Her view into the foyer didn’t give any hint about what had gone on here over the last three hours, and still, Tessa heard nothing. Which felt weird. Their house was never quiet unless Sophia was sleeping. She closed the door, slipped off her heels, and wandered into the living area that opened to the living room, dining room, and kitchen.
Tessa grimaced and pressed a hand to her heart. In the living room, every one of the toys they’d brought for Sophia were strewn on the carpet. In the dining room, an open package of cookies sat on the dining room table, crumbs across the surface. The kitchen counter was littered with plastic cups, a milk carton, a jug of apple juice, a soda can.
She recognized the signs of panic. The kind of panic that came when you had a wildly inconsolable kid on your hands.
Guilt sank heavily in the pit of her stomach, and she moved deeper into the condo, headed toward the bedroom. But she caught the sight of someone from the corner of her eye and looked at the sofa. Her feet stopped dead, her breath hitched, and her hand moved back to her heart.
Zach was asleep. And Sophia was sprawled on top of him, passed out. Even in sleep, Zach had a protective arm around Sophia’s waist. Every book they’d brought on the trip was scattered across the coffee table, the floor beside the sofa, and Zach’s lap.
Tessa lifted her hand to her lips to suppress a laugh and inched closer. Zach’s head lolled to the right, and Sophia’s cheek rested against his chest. With their heads turned the same direction, Tessa got a perfect view of their profiles at the same time, and their resemblance stunned her.
Sophia shifted in sleep, and Zach’s arm tightened around her. Neither of them opened their eyes, but Sophia took a deep breath, and the air stuttered in, then out of her lungs the way it did when she’d been crying—hard. Then she resettled, and they both went still again.
The intimacy of the sight shattered all Tessa’s barriers. This was a good man. He’d been dealt a hard blow and had recovered. If not perfectly, damned well. He’d done exactly what he should have done given the situation—one Tessa could read from all the obvious signs. Sophia had woken and been upset to find both her and Pegasus gone, and Zach had done everything he could think of to placate her. Without calling Tessa in a panic.