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The video monitor on my nightstand comes to life with whimpers from my precious daughter. Ford grins and jumps out of bed, coming over to my side and pulling me up with him. After this conversation, I think we’re both anxious to be near her, to hold her and acknowledge how happy we are she’s here. That neither of us would change the path that got us to the moment we’re in right now.
I grab a hoodie from a hook on the bathroom door and slide it over my head in case anyone else is up, while Ford slips on some black joggers.
When I open the door across the hallway to Nella’s room, her cries escalate. Ford steps past me, glancing at me as if asking for permission to pick her up. I nod and he gently picks her up, cradling the back of her head. He bends his neck and kisses her chubby cheek.
Her crying quiets and she looks up at him intently. He looks like a giant in this room with all the baby items. And his hand almost wraps around her whole head. Ford is the definition of a gentle giant.
The giant himself smiles down at my daughter, looking the happiest I’ve ever seen him. His brown eyes meet mine.
“I missed you two so much,” he says, walking closer to the doorframe where I’m standing and watching.
He cradles Nella with one arm and uses the other to cup my face, the rough calluses of his hands feeling so enticing against my skin. Ford leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips. I close my eyes and savor the moment, all thoughts of morning breath forgotten.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
FORD
After getting the coffee going, I run back upstairs to grab my tennis shoes. I’m off today, but I’ll still workout on my own in my garage gym. Entering my bedroom, I walk straight to the closet for my shoes and socks, but when I hear Amber’s phone go off—pinging not once, but five times—I turn and walk toward her phone instead.
What if it’s her doctor? I decide to peek so I can run her phone across the hall if it’s urgent.
But the name on the screen makes me stop in my tracks, and I nearly drop her phone.
Theo
Did you stalk my mom? How did you know where she would be?
Theo
My life was going great, and now my mom is practically begging me to take you back. She wants to know her grandchild.
Theo
If you had just left me and my family alone, my mother wouldn’t even know about the baby.
Theo
But no. That was too easy for you, wasn’t it?
Theo
My mom wants a relationship with her grandchild. I hope you’re happy now.
She obviously doesn’t have a passcode on her phone because all these texts are up on the lock screen. I know it would bother me—a lot—to have my privacy invaded. So despite wanting to play detective and see if she’s been communicating with her ex before today, I set the phone down and traipse back to my closet. My mind is reeling with possibilities and playing out the ways Amber might react to these texts. I’m moving back and forth between anger at how Theo is speaking to Amber, and frustration that his mom met Nella and Amber never mentioned it to me.
There’s a third feeling coiling around my stomach, too. I can’t quite name what it is, but the gist is this: if Theo changed his mind, and he did want Amber back, if he wanted to build a family with her…I’d have to back down. I’d have to give her up.
I could never tear a family apart, and he’s Nella’s father by blood. They have a genetic bond I will never have with her, even though she already feels like mine. Which is scary after reading those texts.
Also, I remember Amber mentioning that Theo’s family has money—lots of it. How far are they willing to go to be in Nella’s life?
This is all too much. I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples.
“You’re not a kid anymore. Get it together,” I tell myself, jumping back to my feet and taking a deep breath to calm my racing thoughts.
I need to work out, need the physical activity to settle myself. Quickly, I lace up my tennis shoes and make for the bedroom door. But I pause and walk back to my nightstand. Grabbing my stupid coin, I study it for a moment. It’s worn now, my dad’s college hockey team logo in the center—the Cincinnati Tiger’s—in the center is almost completely rubbed smooth from all the time I spent running my fingers over it as a kid. Now I mostly just like the weight of it in my pocket and knowing it's there. I guess that’s progress, that I don’t need to play with it and hold it anymore? With a groan, I thrust it into the pocket of my workout shorts and head to the garage.
