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The living room is clean, but not spotless, which I like. There are toys and coloring books here and there, a stuffed dragon sitting on the coffee table, and a zip-up hoodie thrown over the back of the couch. It’s homey and gorgeous and I immediately feel comfortable. It’s masculine, with lots of dark wood and leather furniture, but not overly so. The perfect mix of rustic and chic, and I wonder if Connor paid someone to come in and decorate, or if this is all him.
Connor trails after us as Ollie leads me down a hallway to the right of the living room.
“Ollie,” he says semi-sternly, though his tone is full of affection, “we don’t man-handle our guests.”
“Oh,” she says a little sheepishly. “Sorry.” She drops my hand and holds hers behind her back.
“It’s ok,” I assure her. “Can I still see your room?” Her eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically, skipping down the hall to the open door at the end.
Connor sighs. “Sorry. She gets a little excited around new people, especially new people who loveMatilda. Can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, that would be great. Whatever you have is fine.”
He nods and takes my coat, heading back down the hallway. Ollie spends the next few minutes showing off her room and small attached playroom, which are admittedly pretty awesome. It’s an eclectic mix of princesses and dinosaurs and glitter, and seems to suit her personality to a T. After all the properoohsandaahs, we head back into the living room where Connor is waiting. He hands me a beer with an apologetic look, but I shoo him away, letting him know that I’m fine. I love it, actually. In another life, I think I would have wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.
“Hey Olls, how about you color Mac a picture for her office at work?”
“Oooohhh I know just what to draw!”
She shoots off down the hall, emerging a few seconds later with a stack of paper and two tubs full of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. She settles in at the kitchen table and Connor nods towards the living room. I shuck off my boots and tuck my legs beneath me as I sink into the couch. He sits beside me, a little bit of a space between us. He eyes Ollie over the back of the couch for a minute before turning back to me.
“My sister died three years ago,” he says, diving right in. My eyes widen in surprise, a small gasp escaping my lips. I reach out, settling a hand on his forearm.
“Oh God, Shep, I’m so sorry.”
He nods his head in that way that everyone does after they’ve lost someone. The nod that saysthanksandit’s alright, even if it isn’t, but what else can you do or say? I did the nod too many times to count after I’d lost my mom.
“She was sick—cancer—but it went really fast. So, she had enough time to plan, but not nearly enough to help any of us get used to the idea of being without her. Ollie’s dad died overseas when she was just a baby. Hannah and I had always been close—Irish Twins," he adds with a smile, "almost exactly twelve months apart, and I’ve been lost for Ollie from the second I saw her in the hospital the night she was born, so I didn’t think twice about agreeing to take her after…after Hannah was gone." He takes a deep breath before continuing and I remain quiet, letting him take all the time he needs. My heart hurts for him, but I'm so glad he's sharing this with me. According to Rizzo, he doesn't do it often.
"Ollie was barely four when Hannah passed. I don’t think she remembers much, not really, but we talk about Hannah a lot and I show her pictures and videos to help keep her mom here with us as much as possible, ya know?” I nod. “I officially adopted her about a year ago. Her aunt and grandparents on her dad’s side live here in Seattle. They’re still very much in her life and help me out with her so much with my schedule. Anytime we have away games, she stays with them, and they watch her while I’m at practice or whatever. They're great people and very much part of my family, regardless of the lack of blood between us. I’mreallylucky.”
I glance over the back of the couch to where Ollie has her head bent over the paper, tongue sticking out to one side in concentration as she draws. Looking back to Connor, I tell him honestly, “So is she.”
He lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks. It’s not easy, I won’t lie about that, but she’s the absolute best kid. I know every parent says that about their kid, but she really, really is. She’s smart and sweet and funny. She’s already been through way more than any kid should ever have to go through, but she’s so strong. She’s goofy as all hell, has energy for days that I need to find a way to bottle for myself or sell online, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The smile on his face makes my heart clench. It’s an absent-minded smile, the kind that shows up when you talk about something you love without even realizing it.
He pulls his gaze back to me again. “So, yeah. You asked what stopped me from…indulgingin the perks," he says with a crooked grin, "Ollie happened. I couldn’t be living that life anymore, not with a four-year-old to take care of. When it all first happened, I was kind of just drowning. Everything was kind of like one crazy, chaotic fever dream. I buried my sister—mybest friend—and became a dad all at once, and though I’d been around as the fun uncle for her whole life, being a full-time dad was completely different. I had no idea what I was doing. At first, I kept up my same old shit, but I remember the exact moment when I knew I had to change. I was lying in bed next to some girl at a hotel in Denver and it hit me: I was afathernow. Maybe not by blood, but Ollie would be my daughter in all the ways that mattered for the rest of my life. I knew she deserved better than that, knew that I needed to be a better man if I was going to be a real dad to this kid, the kind of dad mine was for us. And so I became one,” he says with a hike of his shoulder.
I know I’m staring at him, but I can’t help it.Dear God, Connor Shepherd really is one of the good ones.Hearing him talk about Ollie, seeing his obvious love for her, hearing him talk about needing to be a better man so he could be a good father to her? Well, my ovaries practically explode. As someone who has always loved kids, who desperately wants a family of my own someday…and who’s ex-boyfriend's response to my miscarriage wasthank fucking God—yeah, it’s impossible not to fall a little bit in love with Connor today.
Our gazes hold for a long minute and something starts to build between us, something forceful and heady and dangerous. His eyes seem to darken as I watch, the gold standing out brightly against the green like a flame in the forest. They dart downward, staring at my lips as they part on a soft inhale. My pulse races and my chest feels heavy and hot. I need him to stop staring at my lips. I need him to stop looking at me like he wants to shift forward and press his own to mine. I need him to stop looking so good and smelling so good and being practically perfect.I need to say fuck it and just grab the front of his shirt and yank him to me, make him show me if he can live up to all of my fantasies.
My fingers actually flex in my lap in anticipation, but just before I can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings. I actually jump in surprise, barely stifling a yelp. I take a shuddering breath and a slow smile curls his lips upward as he lets out a long exhale.
“Pizza!!” Ollie screams, leaping up from her chair and running for the front door. Connor and I both laugh a bit, the strange spell that had been trying to work its magic over us broken. He rises from the couch to get the door, but my hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, halting him. There’s something I need to say, that I need him to know.
“You’re a good man, Shep.” He holds my gaze for an endless moment, but eventually nods, giving me a heart-stopping smile.
“I made you fall in love with me a bit just now, didn’t I?”
I release his arm and grab a pillow, whacking him in the chest. "No one likes you."
"Everyone loves me."
“Hurry uppppp,” Ollie begs from the front door, apparently knowing she isn’t allowed to answer the door herself. Connor chuckles and heads to get the food.
The rest of the night is filled with pizza, ice cream, fort building, and me readingMatildato the rapt audience of Ollie, Connor, and about fifteen stuffed animals. Ollie eventually falls asleep in the make-shift tent, the stuffed dragon—who I’d learned was named Pickles even though he was purple, not green—clutched in her arms.
“Should we try to move her?” I whisper as Connor helps me to my feet after I climb out of the fort.
