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Amber glances around, as if looking for any changes since she was here a year ago. Her eyes land on the infinity countertop made from concrete, then the rest of the modern kitchen. Every appliance is made to match the cabinets, giving a streamlined appearance. Her head swivels to take in the dining room. The table and chairs are white and sleek, not an item out of place.
“I swear, nothing has moved since last time I was here,” she finally says, walking farther inside the house and smiling when she sees the living room. My sectional is white, the rug is white, and the large flatscreen is mounted to the wall, with every cord hidden for optimum tidiness.
“I don’t like change.” I shrug and carry the bags upstairs to the guest room, which is right across from my master. I offered her the bigger space since she’s sharing with Nella, but she refused, saying she didn’t want to be high maintenance.
Since my guest room is almost as big, and has its own attached bathroom, I didn’t argue.
I can hear the light sounds of Amber’s footsteps behind me. “I’ll never understand how you can keep things so clean all the time. You should see my apartment, Ford. It’s a mess of bottles, diapers, baby toys.” She groans and I study her, noting once again how tired and worn down she looks.
“Well, that makes sense, since you have a baby. It would be kind of weird if my place was a mess, seeing as I live alone.” I keep my voice quiet since Nella is still asleep in her infant car seat, which Amber is carrying along. She’s standing lop-sided, like the car seat is getting heavier with each passing second. I quickly carry the bags into the guest room, then take the car seat from her and set it gently on the bed.
I still for a moment, studying the teeny version of Amber sleeping in front of me. Her tiny lips form a cupid’s bow, slimy with drool. Her pink outfit looks damp in the front, like she spit milk onto it during the flight. Then, something amazing happens. Nella sneezes. It’s the cutest sound I’ve ever heard. I pinch my lips together, trying to play it cool.
“I know. Cutest sound ever, right?” I can hear the smile in Amber’s voice.
I turn to look at her and finally relax, allowing a smile to lift my lips. “Damn, it really is.”
My eyes go wide. “I mean, dang it. Sorry.”
She covers her mouth, stifling a laugh. “She’s three months old, Ford. She’s not going to learn swear words any time soon.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. In the dimly lit room, I notice the dark circles under her eyes again. “You doing okay, Ambs?”
Her smile fades, her expression turning troubled. I hate that look; I want to wipe it away.
“Let me put her to bed, then we’ll talk, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. The baby bed thingy is set up already.” I point to the corner of the room where I put her pack-and-play. “I’ll go make some tea.”
“Perfect.” Her smile momentarily returns before she yawns loudly.
Something inside me settles at having her here. Even though she’s exhausted, and we have a lot of catching up to do. Having her and Nella here just feels right.
CHAPTER
TWO
AMBER
As I turn on Nella’s white-noise machine, I peek at her in the pack and play and make sure she’s still sound asleep. This pack-and-play is infinitely nicer than the one she sleeps in at our apartment back in Ohio. This is the Cadillac of baby beds. Because of course it is.
I grab my phone and sneak out the door, pausing to appreciate the grand curved staircase that leads downstairs, where Ford is waiting on me. It’s been longer than usual since I’ve seen him, since he was busy with his teammate’s wedding over the summer and I was working extra hours to save up for my maternity leave. I swear he’s aged since I saw him in May after his last season ended. But not in a bad way. He looks mature and debonair, with just a few more creases around his eyes, and deeper smile lines. He also got glasses over the summer for reading and driving, and they look so good on him.
Why do men age so well? Or are they just allowed to age, and women aren’t?
When I step into the kitchen, I smell the familiar scent of the sweet tobacco mixed with cleaning supplies. I smile, loving how I can always count on his steadiness. He’s always been particular about scents, but those sweet tobacco candles from Target have been his favorite since college.
As I round the corner into the living room, I find Ford holding two small white teacups in his giant, paw-sized hands. He extends one to me, and I take it.
“Couch?” he asks, dark eyes twinkling in the overhead kitchen lights.
I nod and follow him into the living room where we sit beside each other. Close enough to chat but not touching.
“You look tired,” he starts.
“Gee, thanks. You sure know how to make a new mom feel good,” I tease.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says urgently, not picking up on my teasing tone. “You always look great.” He blushes slightly, and I wonder briefly if I’ve ever seen him blush before. “It’s just that you’re yawning, and?—”
