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mply stared, his friend’s words sinking in, confirming Pike’s worst fear. “I am so absolutely fucked.”
“Why?”
“Because I leave for a big tour in a month. And she hates the musician life. All she wants is for me to go away. I’m only supposed to be the one-night stand. She doesn’t even want her daughter to know that we’re seeing each other.”
Foster stood and walked over to Pike, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t control what she does or how she feels. But my advice is don’t leave any cards on the table unturned. Don’t fuck it up by trying to play cool about it. Lay it all out there. If she doesn’t want more, you’ll at least know you did all you could.”
Pike’s stomach twisted at that. The thought of putting his feelings out there, of offering that kind of vulnerability to anyone made him want to curl into the fetal position. The last time he’d made that kind of appeal had been with his mother. He’d put his heart on a platter for her and she’d served it as dinner to the man who’d beaten Pike. He didn’t know if he could survive having someone reject him like that again.
And what did he have to offer Oakley? Money, sure. Love, yes. But if he was gone half the year or more, what were those things worth? And if there was a baby, he knew nothing of being a father. It’s not like he could take notes from his own.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he said, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger.
“None of us do, bro.” At that, Lucy began to whimper. Foster left Pike’s side and went over to the crib. He lifted up Lucy with ease and kissed her head. “Good morning, diva. Didn’t want to be left out of the conversation?”
Lucy wriggled against Foster then grabbed his hair in her tight little fist and began babbling happily.
Foster bounced her in his arms. “I think this one’s going to be a domme. She’s got a thing for pulling hair and demanding attention.”
Pike tried to acknowledge the joke, but he couldn’t muster up a grin. All he could do was watch how at ease his friend was with this child who wasn’t even his. Foster would be a kick-ass father. All his life, Foster had been the responsible one, the one who knew how to take charge and make everyone else feel calm. Pike had been the fuck-up. He hadn’t even been able to keep his siblings safe.
He was good at two things. Music and sex. Maybe he should stick to his strengths and let Oakley be. All he’d probably do is mess things up.
Foster tilted his head toward Lucy. “Want to hold her?”
Pike stuck his hands in his pockets. “No, I’ve gotta get going.”
Foster frowned. “Come on, Pike. You’re not going to hurt her. And she won’t hurt you.”
Pike swallowed hard as Foster walked over to him. Foster held Lucy out, and she gave Pike a curious look during the transfer. Pike awkwardly got his arm around her, his heartbeat ticking up a notch. She smelled of clean, sweet things—air-dried cotton and spring—and was heavier than she looked.
Lucy grabbed Pike’s hair with surprising strength and declared with an air of triumph, “Da!”
Despite his anxiety, a laugh escaped him, her pure exuberance hard to be immune to. “All righty, then.”
Foster smiled. “That’s what she calls Jace. Da for him and Pop for Andre. I think she’s telling you that you have blond hair like her daddy’s.”
Pike looked down at her. Her green eyes were big and curious, but there was a hint of mischief there. “She looks like Jace when she smiles.”
“Like she’s up to something?”
“Exactly.” He took her little hand in his, testing out the feel of it. He hadn’t held a baby since he’d helped his mom with his younger siblings, and the feel of her little fingers closing around his forefinger brought back a rush of memories—both good and bad.
Back then, he hadn’t flinched around babies. They’d been part of his everyday existence. While his friends were riding bikes, he was learning how to mix formula and put a baby down for a nap. He was counting out the monthly WIC rations and hoping they would last. Helping his mom had felt like a prison sentence back then. He’d wanted to be like the other kids. He’d hated being stuck in that role. But holding Lucy helped him remember the good moments in between the stress of those days—the ways babies could look at you like you held the answers to the universe or how they could laugh from deep in their belly or how exciting it could be when they learned how to do something new. He remembered the goofy lengths he used to go to to get his brother or one of his sisters to smile—standing on his head, dancing like a fool, and making faces. They’d been the bright spots in his otherwise bleak existence in those early years.
He brushed a dark curl from Lucy’s forehead and found himself wondering what his and Oakley’s baby might look like. Would he or she have dark hair like Oakley and Reagan? Or maybe the white blond hair Pike had sported when he was little? Would their child love music like they did? Would she laugh with her whole body like his little sister had?
His lungs seemed to shrink in size as he tried to inhale a breath, his chest growing tighter and tighter.
Lucy moved her hand from his hair to give his cheek a light pat. “Da!”
He snorted, the sound coming out choked as he swallowed back the emotion that was trying to well up. “Goddammit.”
Foster reached out and gave Pike’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. You’ve got this. After all, who can resist the famous Pike Ryland?”
Pike snorted and shook his head. “Clearly, you haven’t met Oakley Easton.”
Foster grinned. “I look forward to meeting your woman then.”
