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But I just wanna be done already.
I wanna go home. Grab a shower and hang with Liam. Maybe even have dinner with him and Amelia. If I leave now, I could probably make it. Hell, I could probably squeeze in a quick round of badminton too. That was fun.
This is not. None of what I did today was fun, and I’m bone-tired of the slog. Especially knowing what waits for me back at the house.
Straightening, I put my hands on my hips. “Dude, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m beat. My kid was up last night, and the night before that, and . . . yeah. I just can’t. Let’s try again tomorrow.”
Tom looks downright panicked. It’s a reminder that I should probably be panicking too. But again, I can’t seem to summon the shits I’d need to give about cutting a workout short. Instead, I feel . . .
Relieved.
Excited because I get to see Liam. He may be a pain in the ass, but I miss him. His cute little mop of hair. How he insists on using a spoon even though he makes a huge mess. The way he screams when he laughs, all eyes and teeth.
I didn’t know Jennifer all that well, but she did an amazing job raising our sweet boy. I hate that she won’t be around to see him grow up.
Makes me wonder, though, if she would’ve ever introduced me to Liam. Could I have potentially never known I had a kid? The idea makes my stomach seize.
Tom takes off his sunglasses and peers at me. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re dying,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is it cancer? Oh, God, it’s cancer. Rhett, why didn’t you—”
I let out a bark of laughter. “I’m not sick. Just tired as hell.”
“You’ve never quit on me,” he replies, still baffled. “Not even when you had the flu, or bronchitis, or that weird parasite thing you got.”
Jogging over to my bag, I take out a clean towel and wipe my face. “Yeah, well. I didn’t have a kid then, and lemme tell you, kids take more out of you than a parasite, my ravaged intestinal tract notwithstanding.”
“Promise me this is just a one-time thing? Because you’re paying me to get you in Super Bowl shape, and I can’t do that if you aren’t showing up.”
A shadow moves across my excitement. I jostle the towel in my hands. “I know. You’re right. I guess I just need a little more time than I thought to adjust to being a daddy.”
“Your nanny not working out?”
My nanny’s working out too well, and that’s part of the problem.
I can’t stop thinking about Liam, and I can’t stop thinking about her either. Amelia. I’m having the worst case of FOMO—fear of missing out—ever. A part of me couldn’t wait to leave the house this morning. But another part hated to go. Like a jerk, I wanted to stay, I wanted to keep confiding in her because—
God, because she made me feel okay. The problems I have are admittedly ridiculous. Or, at the very least, privileged in the extreme. But she didn’t judge me. She also didn’t blow smoke up my ass. She listened, and she called me out when I needed to be called out.
She was honest and real in a way few people are with me these days.
She was also able to make me smile. Laugh. I want more of that.
I’m sure as hell not gonna get it here in a field with my trainer.
“It’s going great,” I say. “She’s excellent with Liam. But he’s my kid, and at the end of the day, he’s my responsibility, not hers. I guess I . . . I wanna be around more.”
Tom looks at me for half a beat too long. “Okay.” He puts his hands on his hips. Looks out over the view in front of us. Looks back at me. “I’ll let you go just this once. But we can’t make this a regular thing, okay? Get help at night if you need it. We don’t have time to fuck around here, Rhett.”
I think about this as I drive home. If I’m being honest, I like the idea of Amelia spending the night. Or maybe just my dick likes it, which isn’t helpful because . . . reasons.
I promised I’d keep my hands off this girl.
Asking her to take the night shift in addition to full days with Liam is probably asking too much. She has to rest too. She has a life outside my kid, same as I do. It’s not fair to monopolize her time, even if I hate the idea of not having her around.
Turning onto Blue Mountain Farm’s main drive, I look up at the sound of a honk just ahead. Milly’s making her way down the mountain in her cute little Mini Cooper. A glance in my rearview mirror tells me no one’s behind me, so I hit the brakes and roll down my window.
