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“Yeah, would you? I took tomorrow off, but I need to go in for one meeting. I’m starting to wonder if I’m gonna get any sleep at all tonight.”
“Just hold her and walk until I get there. I’m leaving my place now.”
Grabbing my wallet and sliding into a pair of flip-flops, I dash out the door. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing cutoff sleep shorts and a tank top with no bra under my hoodie, or that my hair looks like I was electrocuted. Avery needs me.
Nothing has ever made me fly out of bed like the sound of her crying. I feel energized, like I could run the whole way to Harry’s apartment right now just to get to her. He has no idea what he’s doing. He may have ignored my directions and messed up her bottle, or burped her the wrong way.
His apartment is ten miles away, though, so running is out. Instead, I order an Uber and pace up and down the sidewalk outside my building as I wait. I find an elastic band in my hoodie pocket and pull my hair up into a wild bun on top of my head.
The Uber driver is so chill he’s practically asleep. I have to force myself not to tell him to either drive faster or stop and let me drive.
Of course we hit every stoplight, and by the time we make it to Harry’s apartment, I’m about to jump out of my skin.
“Here we are,” the driver says as he slows to a stop. “Looks like this place—”
“Thanks,” I say, getting out of the car and running to the front door of Harry’s building.
Even at this early hour, there’s a doorman in a perfectly pressed uniform standing at the main entrance.
“Here for Mr. Stone?” he asks me.
I can’t help but scoff while smiling despite my stressed-out state. “Half-dressed women are usually leaving his place at this hour, not arriving, right?”
The doorman tries to suppress a smile but I see the corners of his lips twitch. He doesn’t have to say anything, though—we both know Harry’s reputation as a manwhore with a revolving bedroom door.
“You’re cleared to take the elevator up to his floor,” the doorman says, his stoic expression back in place.
I jog across the smooth stone floor of the expansive lobby in Harry’s building. When I brought Avery here, I had to show my ID at the front desk and the woman there entered a code allowing me to select Harry’s floor number on the elevator. If nothing else, at least I know Avery is safe here.
Well, safe from everyone but her father, who has apparently never even been around a baby before. When I get to Harry’s penthouse apartment and knock on the door, he opens it immediately, a screaming, red-faced Avery in his arms.
“She’s like a baby demon,” he says, his voice laced with exasperation as I reach for her. “Nothing I do makes her stop screaming.”
Harry’s shirtless, wearing nothing but boxers. My hand brushes across his inked chest as I take Avery from his arms, and I feel a flicker of warmth between my thighs. God, it’s been a long time since I was touched by a man. Even Harry Shitbag Stone is affecting me.
“Shh,” I croon to Avery. “I’m here now. Everything is okay.”
Harry closes the door and leans against it, his head falling back as he sighs. His hair is messy and his expression is haggard. I suppress a sarcastic comment about him being a baby whisperer.
“When’s the last time she pooped?” I ask him.
He makes a disgusted face. “She hasn’t pooped at all.”
“She might be constipated.”
He walks over to the couch and sits down, putting his head in his hands. “What do we do about that?”
“You don’t want to know,” I say, cringing as I remember what I read about rectal stimulation in my parenting book. “But we need to wait a little longer before we assume it’s that.”
I rock Avery in my arms and she calms down a little bit.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters. “Hours of crying babies would be a great way to break the enemy when you’re interrogating them.”
“Where’s her Binky?” I ask him as Avery fusses and wiggles around in my hold, a telltale sign she’s going to start screaming again.
Harry turns to me with a confused scowl on his face. “Where’s what?”
“Her Binky. It’s purple and white. The backup one is yellow.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I furrow my brow at him from across the room. “Her pacifier, Harry. You haven’t tried her Binky?”
He puts his hands in the air, a half naked, muscled and tattooed vision of pure helplessness. “I don’t even know where it is.”
“I put them both in the diaper bag. Did you not read my notes?”
Avery wails, and I gently bounce her as I walk over to the diaper bag. Harry’s already there, digging through it frantically.
