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Dumbfounded, I watch on. Favorite toy? A roundhouse kick KOs my heart.
While I don’t mind flirty names in bed, I’m not sure how I feel about that one. It reduces the epic night we shared to pretty much nothing. I don’t like it. Not at all.
I don’t have much time to analyze because Isabel’s cries for Emmie echo through the door.
After changing Isabel, we head down to the kitchen to see what we have for breakfast. Oatmeal and fruit will have to do today.
“We have to go grocery shopping. What do you say, Isa-bea?”
She holds up her slice of banana like she’s cheering for her favorite team. “Yeeahh.”
Mae enters the room like a breath of fresh air, picking up her daughter straight away. She’s all smiles and giggles, and I gloat a little knowing I’m the one who made her that way.
“Sit, I’ll make your coffee.”
“Don’t have time this morning. I already had breakfast.” She smirks my way as she bounces Isabel in her arms. It’s a beautiful sight.
“We’re going to go to the store today. We could stop by your office for lunch?” I can’t help the note of hope in my voice.
“That’s really sweet of you, but Jay and I will be at Pür most of the morning, so we’ll probably just grab lunch after.” Setting the baby down, she grabs her purse and pulls a couple hundred dollars out. “Here. I haven’t had a chance to replenish your spending cash since last time.” She hands the bills to me.
I hand one back. “That’s too much. One is plenty.”
Mae sticks the money in my pants pocket. “Get something nice for yourself then.”
Last night, she brought me to new heights. I soared without care because I didn’t realize the fall was going to be so harsh.
She kisses me on the cheek and strides out the door, leaving me feeling like a gigolo.
“These freaking eggs should be made of gold,” I grumble to Isabel.
She looks up at me while sucking her thumb and holding Mr. Snuffles as I push her down the dairy aisle. Mae loves coffee creamer, so I grab a couple of different flavors.
Isabel points to the pudding. “Yeyyow. Yeyyow.”
She calls everything jiggly Jello. So I throw a couple of those in the bin.
“Isn’t she just the cutest!” a woman squeals, coming up to the cart. She looks to be about my age and on the short side. A Louis Vuitton purse hangs from her elbow. She’s a little overdressed for grocery shopping.
It always goes like this. If I was actually looking to date someone, Isabel is the perfect wingman. Women love her and want to pinch her chubby cheeks. Usually, I don’t let people get too close to Isabel because you never know someone’s intentions, but since we’re in an enclosed public place with cameras, I ease my overprotectiveness. A smidge.
Isabel waves, uncharacteristically not shy with a stranger.
“How old is she?” The woman hitches her purse onto her shoulders and tosses back her dark hair. A classic flirty move that I have no response to.
“She’ll be three in December.” I can’t help but smile when I answer because she’s getting so big and learning new things every day.
“Look at you. Aren’t you lucky to hang out with your daddy all day?” the stranger gushes.
“Actually, I’m her caregiver.” I hate correcting people. One, because I don’t want Isabel to ever think I wouldn’t claim her as mine, and two, because I desperately want to claim her as my child.
“Is that so?” She inches closer to the cart.
Nervous, Isabel holds out her hands to me. “Daddy.”
Oh shit. I gather her in my arms to ease her anxiety.
The woman raises her brow.
