“Hey, good job!” He offered Andy a high five, then had to show him how to do it. High, low, Brogan even got him to attempt to bump fists. It was amusing, seeing Andy’s pudgy, pale paw against his own rough, massive fist.
That made him think of Pixie covering his hand as they’d sat on the couch. He hadn’t even realized that he’d tensed so much. Guilt was a terrible thing, an acid that burned his conscience around the clock. He could endlessly torment himself withwhy.
Why had he let his father and Ruth chase him away?
Why had he been so pigheaded about accepting Connie?
Why the hell had he let pride rule his life?
In many ways, he’d been no better than Brian, and worse than Ruth. They’d cut him out, but he hadn’t really needed them.
He’d cut out Connie, and now he knew she’d needed him badly. That definitely made his sins far greater than theirs.
While he changed Shayna, he heard Pixie say, “Tonight? But you weren’t due home yet!”
Hmm. Apparently, Marlow and Cort were cutting their trip short. Was it because of the trouble Ruth had caused? Judging by what he’d been told, Marlow was protective—not only of Andy, but of Pixie, too. She wanted to make sure they were all right, but the change in plans dumped even more remorse on his head.
He hadn’t meant to bring trouble to these people. They didn’t deserve the ugliness Ruth could dish out.
That made him wonder: How had Ruth known where to find him? There was no way Erin would have told her, but somehow Ruth had found out.
Pixie said, “Really, Marlow. I’m fine. I am! This is exactly why I didn’t call to tell you.” She laughed. “Fine. I should have anyway.”
How nice that they had such a close friendship.
Now that Shayna was nice and dry, Brogan realized that Andy was immersed in her diaper bag, checking out everything. He had one of Shayna’s colorful little hats sitting atop his head, and when he found her socks, he immediately wanted to try them on.
Brogan grinned. “Pretty sure those won’t fit you, Andy.”
Undeterred, Andy did his best to get his much chunkier foot into the delicate little lace sock. Such an amusing kid.
“Let’s put them on Shayna, okay?”
Intrigued by that idea, Andy scrambled around toward the infant’s feet.
Brogan swung him up and seated him carefully, so he didn’tbump her with his knees. “We have to be really, really careful, okay?” Brogan pulled off the sock she currently wore, sniffed it, and said to Andy, “Pee-yew.”
Laughing, Andy smelled the sock, too, and pretended to keel over.
“You little actor,” Brogan praised; then he sniffed Andy’s foot and decreed it worse.
They were still laughing when Pixie joined them again. “What’s going on in here?”
“Foot sniffing,” Brogan explained.
Andy immediately jumped up to smell her feet.
“What in the world?” Pixie tried to back up.
Andy chased her, saying, “Whew!” as if her feet were the smelliest of all.
“You rodent! My feet are fine.”
“Whew, whew,” Andy insisted, his face all scrunched up in disgust.
Snickering, Pixie scooped him into her arms, pretended to chew on his belly until he giggled uproariously, and then came to sit by Brogan.
It felt nice, playing like this. Taking care of the kids. Sharing grins and hearing the sound of Andy’s happiness.
