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“Tobias!” She chuckles, but I’m not playing.
I climb into her shower with one thing on my mind.
Her naked and under me.
Works like a fucking charm.
CHAPTER 22
Meyer
I put Bailey in the best outfit I brought along, a red and blue striped dress Bianca bought her for the Fourth of July, but she’s grown so much in the past few weeks, it already fits her perfectly. The little jean shorts have white stars stamped along the butt and her sandals are sparkly silver. As I’m finishing the final touch, gliding a red bow over her head, the phone in the room rings.
With a frown, I pick up.
“Hello, miss, I have a guest at the front desk asking for you.”
Slowly lowering onto the edge of the bed, I ask, “Who is it?”
“It’s a woman, miss, but she doesn’t seem to wish to give her name.”
I nod. “I’ll be right there, thank you.”
What the heck?
Grabbing my phone, I push it into my back pocket and check my hair in the mirror.
I left it down for the first time in what must be months. I didn’t think to bring a curling iron, but I used my brush and the hotel blow dryer to straighten it. It looks nice. Pretty actually.
That and the blush and mascara I put on, again for the first time in forever, and I can’t help but smile at my reflection.
I’m still heavier than I’m comfortable with, but Bailey’s only five months old and I hear that’s normal. Still, I pull my sweater over my head to hide the extra weight and lift Bay into my arms, heading down to the lobby.
As I walk in, I look around, but I don’t spot anyone, and then my name is called.
I spin, my eyes widening when they land on a pair of blue ones.
“Hi, Meyer.”
“Mrs. Cruz … hi.” I slip my fingers into Bailey’s hand. “Tobias isn’t here.”
“I came to see you.”
My face falls. “Oh … um, is everything okay?”
She nods, reaching out to brush her fingers along Bailey’s arm. “Yeah, but I’d like to chat if you have time? Can I buy you a coffee, maybe? I saw they had a small café when I walked in ...”
I must hesitate because she holds her palms up. “Please, just for a few minutes.”
“Yeah, okay.” I offer a smile, falling in line beside her as we walk to the café.
“She looks adorable,” she says, holding the door open for the two of us to slip through. “How old is she?”
“Almost six months.”
Mrs. Cruz smiles, lowering into one of the bistro seats near the fountain’s edge. “And how long have you known my son?”
My stomach flips. “Mrs. Cruz.”
“It’s just a question, honey, I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I’m all over the place. Please, sit down.”
Hesitantly, I take the seat across from her, waiting for her to be the one to ask more questions so I don’t have to.
She doesn’t make me wait long. “Is she trying to crawl?”
“She scoots herself backward, but she hasn’t figured out the whole knees forward thing yet.”
She laughs, making a wide smiley face at Bay and opening and closing her fingers in a wave.
Bailey kicks her feet, jumping up and down on my thigh as she reaches toward her.
“May I?” Her voice is quiet, a hint of desperation woven in, and I know she not only wants to hold Bay. She needs to.
There’s just something about an infant, they have the ability to soothe aches and erase pain with a simple smile or touch, so I nod, passing her off and the grin that takes over her face reminds me so much of the ones I’ve witnessed on her son.
“Tobias was such a happy baby,” she says after a moment. “He learned so much faster than Talon did, skipped over crawling altogether, and started taking steps while holding on to things at seven months old. He talked early, walked early, he did everything early.” She remembers. “It’s like he was competing with his brother from day one, and every single time, he fell a little short. Talon was older, so he was taller faster, shaved first, had a girlfriend first. Normal life stuff, you know? And then his freshman year of high school, Tobias hit a growth spurt. Suddenly he was taller, faster, had more girlfriends.” She laughs lightly, but it’s hollow.
“He thought he had finally done it, and then Talon was advanced into the AP program. It was like the cycle started all over. Tobias tried to beat him. He asked to go to study hall and stayed late with his teachers. He watched documentaries and tried those listening books the libraries used to have ...”
“He did?” I swallow. The sorrow that’s taken over her tone makes it hard to listen. He tried to be a better student and didn’t understand why he couldn’t grasp things the way others could. It’s so hard to find the kind of learning that works for you. That must have made him feel less capable when I know that to be false.
