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“You asking me or telling me?” I push back, tired of being told what to do when it comes to Caitlin.
“Asking. Help her the way she helped me.” He breaks off a piece of the giant cookie and pops it in his mouth. “And while you’re at it, can you tell her we fixed our shit?”
“How did she help you?” I know she hasn’t forgiven Maddox. What I don’t know is what he’s talking about. “And when did we fix our shit?” I look around the room to make sure I’m not missing something, then wait.
“I came to her last month, wanting to make things right. But she wasn’t willing to do that until I made things right with you first.” He blows out a breath. “So I guess I’m sorry for being a dick. I should have trusted you, and I shouldn’t have said what I did. Caitlin was right. And you should have trusted me. Man to man, if you tell me you love my sister and you’re not going to hurt her, then I’ll admit I was wrong. You’re a good man. Treat her right and don’t fuck up my niece.”
“I’ll accept your apology on one condition,” I tell him and hold out my free hand to help him up from the ancient couch.
“What’s the condition?” Maddox asks, careful not to agree to something crazy.
“Come back to the house and help me put together baby furniture. I need to get it done before the girls get home from the spa.”
“What the fuck, man? Can’t you hire someone to do this shit? You’ve got one of the biggest contracts in the NFL.”
I shrug a shoulder. “But think how great it will be to tell my daughter that Daddy and Uncle Maddox put her furniture together.”
“Dude, you’re gonna have a daughter... That’s fucking nuts.”
“I know,” I agree as my heart beats faster, just thinking about it.
“You know we can never let her date, right?”
“Fuck, man... What the hell? Don’t make me think about that shit yet.” I grab the cookies back and shove him forward. “Shut the fuck up and help me put together the furniture.”
CAITLIN
At least I wore pants today . . .
—Caitlin’s Secret Thoughts
“Do you want me to go inside with you?” Bellamy asks as we sit parked in Callen’s driveway, looking from Maddox’s car, to Rome’s motorcycle, to the house, and back.
“What do you think they’re doing here?” I ask her as I gather my bags, struggling to bend over to get them. The spa was heavenly and so were the little boutiques we stopped at on the way home, but now I’m back to exhausted, and I just want to be snuggled up on the couch with Callen and Cupcake, watching the latest episode of my favorite Food Network show.
Less than two months to go. And my little girl already has a better wardrobe than most grown women could ever hope to have. Problems of a stylist’s kid.
Bellamy gets out of the car and waits for me. “I guess there’s only one way to find out why they’re here.”
I get out of the car and stand there, pouting.
“What the hell? I was relaxed, B. I don’t want to go in there and listen to my brothers and my baby daddy arguing.” If I wasn’t so tired and my limbs didn’t still feel like jelly, I’d consider stomping my foot for effect.
“Girl, you’ve got to stop calling him that,” she laughs and starts for the door.
Fuck. Guess I’m doing this.
“Fine. But it’s not any worse than boyfriend,” I grumble.
I feel like I’m sixteen years old when I sayboyfriend. And sixteen and pregnant isn’t the look I’m going for.
Bellamy takes a few bags from my hands and walks in first. “Honey... I’m home,” she calls out.
My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. She’s crazy, and she’s all mine.
Those crazy-ass Instagram reels of little old ladies doing crazy shit when they’re eighty... that’s going to be us.
Lucky saunters down the stairs, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up and showing off his newest ink. “Hey, baby. Why don’t you come give Daddy some sugar?”
