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“I—”
A wail sounded from the baby monitor, and my chin jerked up, eyes darting to the screen. Seb was awake.
I groaned and flopped onto my back as Abbie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Let’s try again tonight.”
After scrubbing my face with my open palms to rub away the sleep, I lifted one eyebrow. “Assuming you’re awake when I get home—and I can stay awake long enough to finish the job.”
She chuckled and leaned down to drop a kiss on my mouth. “Assuming that, of course.”
I groaned at the painful swell in my dick as Abbie disappeared into the bathroom. It was freaking hard—pun intended—to find the time for sex. Here I was, living the fantasy of Abigail in my bed where I’d always wanted her, and most of the time we were sleeping, not fucking. The sex we did have was off the charts, and anticipation made the actual act a thousand times hotter, but we had to fit it in between all our other commitments. And didn’t I feel like Father of the Year, wishing my kid would sleep an extra hour just so I could have sex? Maybe that was normal. And maybe I was an arsehole.
I stuck a hand under my head and stared up at the ceiling to give Seb a chance to settle himself back into sleep. It was only five a.m.—a full hour before his usual wake-up time—but he’d been off schedule the last few days. His naps were shorter, his appetite was unpredictable, and his moods were all over the place. I must have scanned a hundred different books and websites for answers, and they all said almost the same thing: this is what babies did. When I’d posted on a message board for advice, explaining that Seb was generally a solid sleeper who loved his food, other parents told me to take it day by day. Just ride it out and follow his lead, and he’d return to his old self in his own time. Hopefully.
I was feeding Seb his breakfast—or trying to—when Abbie kissed us both on her way out the door. “You’ve got that big meeting today with a potential investor for the brewery, right?”
A whirlwind of nerves I’d been trying to ignore made my abs clench. “Yeah. I’ll meet him at The Stop around midday. Will you be back by then?”
Abbie nodded confidently. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The investor’s name was Jason Maloney, and Birdie had set up today’s meeting because she thought he might be a goodpartner for the brewery. Jason was in his fifties and a former world champion surfer who had leveraged his winnings and sponsorship dollars into building a successful investment firm. I’d idolised him as a kid, which only made today more nerve-racking, and he had a diverse portfolio that captured everything from underwear to restaurants to poker machines. That explained the connection between him and Birdie, whose family was in the casino game. Jason had signed up as the sponsor for her tournament next week, and when she’d casually mentioned that I might be looking for someone to invest in my craft brewery start-up, he’d been interested in hearing more.
Exhaustion was the only thing keeping my nerves in check. This guy was the real deal, and if I could convince him that I was made of solid enough stuff to make my business a success, I’d be able to use the cash to purchase the kind of brewing equipment I’d need to scale quickly, and not the smaller batch brewing machines I’d outlined in my original proposal to Birdie. This meeting was my ticket to the big time without having to wait in line for God knew how many years.
I gave up on spooning the apple cereal into Seb’s mouth and set it aside so I could wipe his mouth and hands, and then I set him on his play mat. He protested immediately, and I scooped him up. He’d been much clingier the last couple of days, preferring to be held than spend time in his chair or on his mat. I told myself it was developmental, like the books said, but it concerned me.
Abbie frowned at Seb, then crossed the living room to give us one more kiss goodbye. There were faint circles under her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, and she looked at least as tired as I felt.
“I hope today’s better than yesterday,” she said. “If you can get this little monster to sleep for you this morning, you should go back to bed for a little while, too. Signing with an investor is a bigdeal, and you need to be on your game this afternoon. I should have time to pick up the groceries we need after my last class.”
I grimaced, not at her comment about the investor—although she had a point; I’d missed his last call because I’d been busy between my girl’s thighs—but at the flare of guilt in my gut. Not only was Abbie here because she had nowhere else to go, but she was also exhausted when she didn’t need to be, and she still thought about me and Seb before herself. I didn’t deserve her.
“Any word on your apartment?” I asked, shifting Seb on my hip as Abbie retrieved one of his toys from the floor and handed it to him.
“You trying to get rid of me?” she asked lightly, but there was an edge to her tone that I didn’t understand.
“God, no. But I bet you’ll be glad when you can sleep through the night again.”
I didn’t want to burden her with my worries about how I was going to do this parenting thing without her. The thought of managing my career and my son without Abbie made me sick to my stomach. I could do it alone—I’d find a way to make it work—but I didn’t want to.
Abbie shrugged. “Sleep is overrated. And to answer your question: no. I haven’t heard anything new.”
I shook my head, too weary to entertain a brief, hot flash of frustration on her behalf and too selfish to not feel relieved. “I can’t believe they’re taking so long. I’m sorry, Abs.”
“It’s okay.” She leaned in to kiss Seb on his fat cheek, then kissed me one last time on the mouth. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
The morning was not better than the three before it. If anything, it might have been worse—or perhaps I had fewer reserves to deal with it. Seb refused to eat or sleep. I’d read that car rides and time in the pram could encourage rest for unsettled babies, and I spent two hours pushing him up and down theboardwalk just to get him to nap for forty-five minutes. It gave me the chance to make mental notes for my meeting, at least, but when Seb was awake, I didn’t have the brain space to focus on both him and what I might say to Jason. I barely gave my meeting any thought at all.
By the time Abbie rushed in the door—at ten minutes to midday—we had just enough time to exchange a kiss and instructions for Seb before I rushed downstairs. I paused at the door to the bar long enough to sniff my armpits and run an apprehensive hand through my hair. I’d showered that morning, at least, and shaved the day before, but in another life, I’d have done more than check for deodorant to prepare for a moment as important as this one. At least I’d had the forethought to ask Steph to work the bar for a few hours so I could give Jason my full attention.
Jason showed up wearing shorts, but he was fit for a guy approaching his sixties, and he had an air of authority about him that only money could buy, so when I shook his hand, I made sure my grip was at least as firm as his. After lunch on the house and generous samples of my own IPA, I supplied him with a copy of the business report I’d put together for Birdie what felt like a lifetime ago, with a couple of tweaks that Birdie had helped me put together.
When Jason asked me questions, he seemed genuinely interested in the answers, and I was relieved that they came to me easily enough. It was all still in my head, just buried under the other crap I’d been dealing with these last couple of weeks.
“I’m impressed,” Jason said, closing the business report on the table between us and leaning back in his chair. My heart raced as he added, “Your food’s good, the beer’s even better, and these figures are well-thought-out. Any chance I could get a look at the space before the tournament this weekend?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take you around now if you’ve got time?”
He smacked his hands onto his thighs in a businesslike manner and pushed to his feet. “Let’s do it.”
