Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection) Page 11

  “Thank you for today,” I say, and like a noob, pat his arm.

  Locke cocks a brow. “No problem.”

  I lick my lips to stifle some awkwardness. “Stop making me feel like a fool. It’s what your sister did to say good-bye.”

  “No, my sister gave me a hug.” Locke waits, and when I don’t respond—or walk away—he adds, “If you want to, you can do that, too.”

  “Hug you?”

  “I promise. No biting. Though I may smell like dead fish.”

  “So do I.” I laugh instead of move because in the span of one second, I’m afraid to hug this man.

  I hug people. I put my arms around my mom and dad, would stick a leg out and trip my brother, then hug him, too. I pulled Paige close all the time, especially during the worst moments, and when Lily came into my life, I had her in my arms more than I set her down.

  So, why did hugging Locke for the first time funnel all that emotion, from each love of my life, into one person?

  Locke reads each flicker of conflict on my face. “You don’t have to,” he says and starts to turn Lily’s stroller. “We’ll see you—”

  I dive at him. Put an arm around his neck and the other around his waist and hold him close and tight.

  Startled, his hands take a moment to wrap around me, but when they do, it’s as if I’m whole.

  He smells delicious, despite his warning otherwise. Soap and laundry detergent. Comfort and beauty. Sturdy and hard, like if I needed to ask him to, he’d never let go.

  For the first time since losing Paige, I don’t feel so alone.

  I bury my face in his neck for a few crucial seconds, then just as abruptly, let him go.

  “I’ll see you at home,” I croak out.

  “Yeah. Home.” Locke’s stunned.

  I nod in the affirmative, then scurry away as fast as my little legs will allow.

  Lily’s happy babbles fade with distance, and with each step farther away, with every inch closer to the exit…

  My heart crumbles a little more.

  14

  Locke

  The hug.

  I’ve had way more than that from women, mostly naked, yet I can’t stop thinking about that brief contact with Carter.

  Never mind the feel of her breasts against my chest, her body molding against mine, the thin slip of her dress separating my hands from hitting soft, bare heat. It’s more than the sexual hit of skin on skin, and it’s precisely that reason I’m still high on it.

  The fucking hug.

  Lily’s quiet on our trip back from the zoo, zoning in and out of sleep as we take the subway and a short stroll home.

  When we turn onto my block, I see a figure near my door, leaning with one knee up against the brick while he scrolls through his phone. By the time I’m half a block away, I’m resigned to listening to what Asher has to say.

  “What’s up,” I say once we’re near enough.

  Asher raises his head and pockets his phone. “I texted but got no reply. Thought I’d wait a while, see if you showed. Hi, sweetie.”

  He bends, giving Lily a wave.

  “Here I am,” I say while digging for my keys. Finding them, I unlock the door and wrestle the stroller in, figuring Ash will follow.

  “Want help?”

  “I got it.”

  “Why are you pissy?” Asher asks as he shuts the door.

  Without asking, he takes the front of Lily’s stroller while I lift the back, and we climb the stairs together.

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Whatever you say.” We set Lily’s stroller down at the top, and I go about unstrapping her. Ash eyes the multiple packages framing my doorway, flat rectangles in brown wrapping.

  “What are these?”

  I look up briefly from Lily. “Uh, stuff for Carter looks like. Paintings.”

  “Paintings?”

  “Yeah.” I’m holding Lily and unlock my door with my free hand. “She’s a painter. Artist.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I set Lily on the floor to crawl around for a bit while I make her a bottle.

  “She’s sure bringing a lot of stuff with her,” Ash says, making himself comfortable on my couch.

  I assume he’s talking about Carter. I head into the kitchen. “She has this idea where she’ll display some of her work at the coffee shop at the end of the block. She’s made friends there. I figure it could be good exposure for her.”

  “While she’s here.”

  It isn’t a question. But I’m busy measuring formula and thinking about Carter’s decision to bring in income. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that artist portfolio money would barely float her in NYC with a roommate, never mind with a kid on top of it. But she seems so determined to pull her weight, or at least feel like she’s doing it. I can pretend to accept her cash then sneak it back into her boxes or bag when she’s not looking.

  “How is this working out for you, anyway?” Ash asks from the main room.

  I swallow a sigh. “Like I told my sister a few hours ago, totally and completely fine.”

  “You saw Astor? I wonder if Ben knows she was in the area.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I shake the bottle, heading back over and handing it to Lily, who accepts it with grabby hands.

  “Fuck, she’s cute,” Asher says.

  “Don’t swear.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  I’m about to sit by Ash, but since there’s no room on the couch with him on it, I drag a chair over from my table and sit.

  “I’m still trying to accept the idea you’re a dad.”

  “Join the club, man.” I wish I had a beer in hand so I could guzzle the cool liquid for something to do. But I made a promise to Lily when I signed an affidavit saying I wanted her. I’d become the dad she deserves.

  “Which is why I’m worried about you.”

  “Ah.” I lean back in my chair. “Finally, the reason why you’ve dropped by.”

  “Look, I know it’s an adjustment. Hell, I wouldn’t be adjusting near as well. I think you’d still be finding me at the bottom of a bourbon barrel.”

  “Get to the point, Ash.”

  Ash rests his elbows on his knees and gives me the serious eye. He’s not one to be grave, but when he wants to, his dark blue eyes, framed by the multiple tattoos on his neck, arms, and chest, create a sinister effect. “Figuring out how to raise a kid is difficult enough. But now you have a girl living with you, someone you don’t really know but who’s obsessed with Lily.”

  I scoff. “Obsessed? Dude, she raised her for the first nine months of her life.”

  “What’s stopping her from kidnapping Lily and taking her to a country with no extradition?”

  My brows jump. “Money, for one.”

  “Maybe she’s staying with you to steal your savings and then go.”

  I point in the general direction of the hallway. “Remember seeing all that shit out there? Is that the sign of a woman making plans to steal from me?”

  Ash falls back against the couch and crosses his arms. “You don’t know her.”

  “I don’t know a lot of women I get involved with.”

  “So you admit you’re getting involved with her?”

  “Oh, come on.” I’m close to standing and walking off the static energy Ash has caused. “She was Lily’s second parent for almost a year, then suddenly, after losing Paige, she’s told she no longer has rights to the kid. I felt sorry for her, okay? You didn’t see the way she was saying good-bye to Lily. What man am I for deliberately ripping a child away from the only other person they’ve ever known? Not to mention,” I add when Ash opens his mouth, “I have no idea about Lily’s habits, her wants, needs. Carter’s been essential in helping out with that.”

  “You’re giving her too much credit.”

  “This is stupid.” I stand and pick Lily up. She drops the empty bottle with a clatter. “I’m putting her down for a nap. Whether you’re here or not when
I come out, I don’t give a shit.”

  “Don’t be like that, Locke.”

  I pause near Lily’s door. “You come into my home, questioning my decisions, questioning how I’m choosing to raise my kid, Ash. How do you expect me to react?”

  “I’m watching your back.”

  “No, you’re waiting for me to fuck up, just like you always do.”

  “Not fair. And don’t swear in front of the baby.”

  My mouth thins.

  “You didn’t see yourself six months ago, but I did,” Asher continues. He lifts from the couch. “And the moment you get right, a baby’s dropped in your lap. Then a woman who doesn’t want you to have that baby wants to crash at your place for who knows how long. You have no clue about her motives because you don’t know her. You can’t blame me for wanting you to be careful.”

  “I’m doing fine, Ash. Lily wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her the other night.”

  “Lily? Of course, I’m lookin’ at her.”

  Ash’s stare goes flat. “You know who I mean.”

  I do. But I don’t feel like talking about it. “I’m handling myself, man. You came here to make sure of that, so go and tell East and Ben the same. Make sure to tell them—and you can quote me on this—I’m not fucking Carter. There. Happy?”

  “Are you feeling guilty? For not knowing Lily’s mom well enough? And now Carter is some sort of penance?”

  “Ash, just shut up already.”

  “Why do you need to prove to her you’re a good guy? It’s not your fault, Locke. What happened to Paige.”

  “Apparently, it is. We didn’t use enough protection. I used a condom, but…”

  “Mistakes happen. That doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer for it.”

  “I’m far from suffering.”

  “You’re going through a lot right now, bud. Don’t add proving some dumb shit to Carter to the mix—”

  I’ve had enough. “Dude. You’re not my therapist. You’re a chef, so unless you’ve brought those maple bacon cupcakes you excel at as Lily’s housewarming present, you can show your ass to the door.”

  Asher doesn’t relent. “When is Carter leaving? Because it looks like she’s moving in.”

  “She’s selling the damned paintings… You know what? I don’t need this.” I storm into Lily’s nursery, but gently. I also quietly shut the door even though I want to slam it until it cracks down the center. After I put Lily in her sleep sack and turn on the white noise machine and lay her down, as instructed, I reenter the main room, but Ash is gone.

  Thank fuck.

  If there’s one person to make me face my demons, it’s him, and at the moment, living in the present is working out just fine.

  Now that Lily’s gone to sleep without a peep, I make a little more noise, stomping around the apartment, ignoring the warning flares my left knee keeps sending out. I fling the front door open and carry Carter’s paintings in.

  Then, angry at Ash, at myself, at Carter, I decide to rip open one of the packages and see why these wrapped frames caused such concern with Asher.

  The paintings are packed in twos, and there are three flat boxes. I choose the first, setting it against the arm of the couch and tearing through the tape on strength alone. I reveal the first painting on top.

  This one is of flowers, no idea which kind, but they’re white, framed with a lot of green. My amateur eye can catch the details, the small brushstrokes versus the big, and I’m happy to spot a small bee nestled among the petals, like a fancy version of Where’s Waldo I’ve just won.

  With one hand, I’m holding the top of the painting, but I step back to get a better view, and that’s when I see it. A face, hidden in the flowers—made of the flowers. The bee is in a skull’s eye socket, petals flaring where the nose hole is. Thorns make up the teeth. There’s a lot more depth to this picture than I initially thought. Instead of a nightmare within the plants, it’s strangely alluring.

  Fuck.

  It’s beautiful. Beautiful and sad.

  Just like her.

  And I’m forced to admit, just as Asher predicted, I’m in for a world of trouble because of it.

  The buzzer sounds and I’m jolted from the couch, laptop clunking to the ground as I fly awake. The constant thrum of the white noise machine is still going in the nursery, meaning Lily’s still asleep.

  I stand, wincing at the sudden, crushing pain in my left leg. I should’ve stretched before I went prone, but I didn’t expect to fall asleep, and now my knee will make me pay for it.

  I limp over to the door and press the button to open the downstairs entrance. Soon, I hear clomping steps and the creak of my apartment door as Carter steps in.

  She took the stairs too fast and didn’t give me time to settle. I’m still favoring my leg in an attempt to get back to the couch.

  “I knew you were doing too much this morning,” she says as a greeting and shuts the door. “Let me help.”

  “I don’t need it.” I brush off her helping hands.

  “Quit being so stubborn—”

  “I said I don’t need it.” My halting arm is coupled with a glare and Carter gets the message.

  Kind of. “Fine. Then I’m getting some ice.”

  Groaning quietly, I lie back on the couch, lifting my leg to rest on a pillow.

  “Do you have any pain meds anywhere?” she asks as she approaches with ice wrapped in a towel.

  “No.”

  “Seriously? With an injury like that?”

  “No pain meds.”

  “Not even ibuprofen—?”

  “I said no, Carter.”

  “Okay, sorry.” She raises her hands in surrender, looks to the nursery, and, seemingly satisfied, takes a seat in the chair I never slid back to the table when Asher left. “Did I do something?”

  “What? No.”

  “My paintings.” Carter’s distracted, at last noticing the stack of cardboard propped up near my head.

  She heads over, bringing with her a wafting scent of roasted coffee beans and fingers a loose strip of tape. “You opened it.”

  “You had it shipped to my home, and it was blocking my hallway. I wanted to know what it was.”

  I’m being a dick. I don’t care.

  “That’s fair. I just…it’s kind of embarrassing. I don’t show a lot of people…”

  “I can see why.”

  She blanches, and I ignore the punch it causes to my gut.

  I forge on. “It’s a little dark, isn’t it? And dreary. Will the coffee shop really want something like that?”

  “I…” Carter’s looking in every direction but at me. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried to showcase my work before.”

  “You have anything happier in there?”

  Her brows come down, shadowing her eyes, as she caresses the corners of the packages. “Probably not.”

  “Well, it was a lot to ship over here. I hope it works out.”

  I lay the bag of ice on my knee, grateful she brought it but refusing to say thank you. It would mean I have to look at her again, pretend I don’t see the hurt fissuring through her wide eyes.

  “Is this what you do when you’re in pain?” she asks quietly. “Lash out at people?”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “You’re right about that,” she says.

  We hear Lily’s cries at the same time, and Carter’s hand drops from her work. “I’ll get her. And take her for a walk. It’ll give you time to…rest.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “Great,” she parrots and goes across the room. She disappears behind Lily’s door.

  I remain splayed out on the couch, and I’m not happy about it. Asher got to me. The painting got to me. Carter’s fucking getting to me. And I’m pissed off at all of it.

  My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket. I finagle it out after a few grunts and answer. “What.”

  “Jeez. I haven’t even said anything,
and already you’re down my throat.”

  My head falls back against the pillow. “What else do you have to say, Astor?”

  “Well, I was going to apologize for how I acted with Carter. I know I was rude. Couldn’t help it. But seeing you with Lily…I can see she’s been helping you through a tough time.”

  “At least someone can.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Anything else?”

  Astor goes quiet on the other end. She’s dealt with my moods before. “I wanted to ask you if it was okay to take Carter out.”

  “Out where?”

  “Drinks. Dinner. Socializing, Locke.” Astor loses all hesitation. “Poor thing is cooped up in there with you, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Can’t be good for her health. I thought I’d show her some city nightlife.”

  I pause. When Astor offers to do something, it’s never for the recipient’s benefit. Usually, she needs a favor. Or is looking for leverage.

  I stare at the wall, where on the other side, Carter is changing and crooning to Lily, maybe singing that lilting, addictive song of hers, and I can’t help but agree with my sister.

  I hate agreeing with my sister.

  Carter doesn’t have anyone here, save for a baby who only speaks in babble and a roommate with a lame leg. She deserves some fun, and if my sister can give her some, who am I to stop it?

  I don’t define it as guilt over my current behavior.

  “I’ll ask her,” I say to Astor.

  “Good. Let me know. Or give her my number, whatever you want. Tomorrow night, in Manhattan.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell her.”

  Astor’s likely rolling her eyes on the other end. “Thanks, oh benevolent one.”

  “You’re welcome. Talk later.”

  “Go take a nap with your daughter.”

  I click off and let the phone topple to the floor, angry that I can’t roll over, face the couch cushions, and get lost in the dark.

  15

  Carter

  I left Locke and Lily at the zoo, conscious of my growing feelings for Locke and come back to a different man, conscious of what I’ve done wrong.

  And I hate that.

  The growing, nauseous sway resulting from the guilt over merely existing next to a person. Because that’s all I’ve done—been beside him, functioning through Lily and refusing to be regarded as a pimple growing on his chin, or worse, a freeloader.