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The bedroom was dark and quiet, with just enough moonlight revealing Nikki’s sleeping form under the covers.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me as I slumped down on the edge of the bed.
I managed to haul my tee over my head, but that was as far as I got. I couldn’t strip off my jeans. I was already sitting down. They would simply have to stay on.
I groaned under my breath and scrubbed my hands over my face.
Christ, what a night.
I heard faint rustling behind me, followed by Nikki’s sleepy voice. “You’re home.”
“Mm.” I reached behind me blindly and patted her hip. “Go back to sleep, hon.”
You’re home… Her short phrase replayed in my head, and I wondered if I had imagined the rasp in—but no. She sniffled, which jostled me a bit out of my drunken state. Was something wrong?
I turned around and squinted in the darkness. “You okay?”
She sniffled again. “I don’t know,” she whimpered. “I’m pregnant, Jake.”
She was fucking what?
Chapter 2
2011
“Grandma, lemme help you.” I hurried around the truck to help her out. The woman wasn’t even five feet tall; she could break something just stepping off a curb.
“I am quite capable, you know.” She sniffed indignantly but still grabbed on to my hand as she climbed out of my truck. “My, my, this is a busy neighborhood. Can Colin sleep with all this noise?”
I smiled. “He sleeps just fine.”
After grabbing her luggage, I offered my arm, and she linked hers with mine. I was stupidly happy to have her here, and I hoped she liked my new place. Culver City was an upgrade, for sure. So was my choice of roommate. I just preferred to live with Roe. He was less prone to throwing shoes at me.
We’d been offered this apartment in the nick of time, about two weeks after Nikki had dumped my sorry ass. According to her, I was the most uninvolved, boring, and passive boyfriend ever to exist. But I was a good dad, so we still got along somewhat.
Nikki wasn’t entirely wrong. Other than being there 100% for pregnancy-related things, I was the douchebag who’d prioritized work. She’d lasted until Colin was three months old before she’d told me to get the fuck out.
The walk to the apartment wasn’t long, and soon, Grandma and I took the elevator up to the third floor. It was an old factory-like red-brick building, with vaulted windows and a courtyard with a pool—which was nice in the August heat. We had a balcony too. Not to mention the absolute smallest apartment in the building. But Roe and I didn’t care. He didn’t have to sleep in his truck, and I could at least say I was supporting myself financially. And my son, of course.
Upon entering the apartment, I did a quick scan and tried to see the place through Grandma’s eyes. The big window in the living room—and the bedroom, for that matter—helped make our home look more furnished than it was. Roe and I had gone all out with a big pullout couch, flat-screen, coffee table, and bed, and…that was pretty much it. I’d bought a nightstand and a dresser right before Grandma’s arrival, so that was waiting for her in the bedroom. I’d assembled them last night.
We only had a kitchenette, which didn’t bother us. We didn’t cook much, and now we didn’t have to worry about furniture there either.
When my sister had come out for a week a couple months ago, she’d helped me hang curtains. She’d hung some pictures on the walls too. Pictures I’d taken over the years. But I appreciated the curtains more because it got incredibly bright around ten, when the sun shone right in.
“Remind me, darlin’—where’s your friend going to sleep?”
“At his girlfriend’s,” I replied. “Let’s take your luggage to the bedroom so you can get settled. I put clean sheets on the bed for you.”
I knew she didn’t quite understand our living arrangement. That was fine. We had to be creative in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Then again, both Roe and I had arrived in LA empty-handed. There was nothing his or mine at our place. We’d bought everything together, and so we shared our space too. When I had my boy here every other week, the bedroom was mine. When it was Nikki’s week, the bedroom was Roe’s.
“It’s a very nice place, dear. But quite small.” She patted my arm.
“It’s temporary.” I opened the door to the bedroom and let her in first. “We hope to buy a house next year.”
She peered up at me through her Ruth Bader-Ginsburg glasses. “You could start with a crib for your son.”
I chuckled. Helpful advice filed away and forgotten. My little bear didn’t need a crib. He slept next to me.
After showing her how to work the curtains and where the bathroom was, across the hall, I gave her some privacy so she could take a nap. Flying all the way from Florida had tuckered her out, and that suited me fine.
