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An arm appeared in front of me to grab a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms from the open drawer I was rifling through.
“Don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Doc,” he said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Yes sir, William Weston Wilde.” My full name on his tongue sounded like he was savoring warm liquid chocolate.
More cock-filling.
I wondered how long it would be before Pippa would agree to go down for a morning nap.
Once we got some comfortable clothes on and made our way into the kitchen, Nico fixed Pippa’s bottle while I started the coffee maker and pulled out some eggs. We moved around the small space intent on our own tasks until we found ourselves sitting across from one another at my kitchen table with a hot breakfast, coffee, and a baby sucking greedily from a bottle.
Suddenly we both realized what a ridiculously domestic picture we’d created. Our eyes locked onto each other as if one of us had stepped on a landmine and neither of us knew how to proceed.
A loud fart noise ripped through the silence. I knew it had come from the baby, but the baby was resting squarely on Nico’s lap.
“Feeling okay?” I asked Nico with a straight face.
His cheeks bloomed pink before he shot me a dirty look.
The awkward moment was gone in an instant as both of us cracked up until tears were leaking out of my eyes.
The rest of the breakfast passed in comfortable conversation. He began to open up more about what he was going through with trying to handle Adriana’s bakery.
“She was terrible at bookkeeping, West. I mean, I don’t get it. You don’t have to be good at math, necessarily. Just have basic organization skills,” he said, setting the bottle down and moving Pippa onto his shoulder to rub her back.
Nico was bare-chested, and my stomach tightened at the sight of him holding her against his colorful skin. Little muscles moved as he burped her, and I could make out more of the designs in the light of the morning sun coming through my kitchen windows.
“She barely graduated from high school, Nico, so I’m not surprised she struggled at running a business. Why don’t I help? We could go to your place and work on it together. I don’t have anything planned today,” I suggested.
Nico’s hesitation was clear, but he must have really been concerned about it. “Yeah, okay. I mean, if you don’t mind. You knew her better, so maybe you can figure it out. I hope to god I’m overlooking something because the bakery is seriously in the red.”
I reached over and squeezed his arm. “No worries. I’ll take a look.” After offering to change Pippa’s diaper, I disappeared into the guest room where the portable crib and her supplies were. I made quick work of cleaning her up and changing her into a fresh sleeper outfit from her diaper bag before returning to find Nico finishing up with the dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said in surprise.
He smiled shyly before looking back at the plate he was scrubbing. “You didn’t have to fix me breakfast either. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s not like it was anything fancy. Your standard thanks for staying over breakfast,” I said on a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.
Even though his face was turned away, I could see him tense up. I shifted the baby into my left arm and slid my right around his front so I could lay my chin on his shoulder.
“What is it?” I asked softly.
“I don’t stay over… Ever.”
There was a beat of silence while I digested what he was telling me.
I tried turning him in my arms but couldn’t manage it while holding the baby. Instead, I walked over to the sitting area and strapped Pippa into her car seat on the floor by the sofa and came back to where Nico was still standing at the sink.
After reaching in front of him to turn off the faucet, I grabbed a towel and dried off his hands before turning him around and lifting his chin. Blue-green eyes narrowed at me in defiance, and I saw clearly the punk he tried so hard to portray to the world.
“Then I am one lucky motherfucker,” I said. My voice sounded hoarse, but I tried to speak with the conviction I felt.
I didn’t give him a chance to argue with me or walk away. Instead, I took his mouth in mine and spoke to him in the only language that mattered.
A kiss.
A couple of hours later we were at Nico’s with Adriana’s company books and receipts spread out all over the kitchen table and the baby settling down into her morning nap in the nursery. Nico had changed into sweatpants and a hoodie when we’d arrived, and I was wearing my most comfortable jeans and a T-shirt. October was coming in with slightly cooler days, and I noticed two pairs of socks doubled-up on Nico’s feet.
