Paige

PAIGE

Dad's grin is full of love—like the warm hug he wraps me in before he takes two steps past the door. I soak it in. The feeling of being surrounded by him and his ocean-scented aftershave brings the kind of comfort that stems from a solid childhood. From knowing that Dad will love me no matter what I do.

Even if I disappoint him, which I'm sure he would be if he knew about what happened in this apartment just minutes ago. God, I hope it doesn't smell like sex in here.

When I step back from his embrace, I take a deep breath and wave him inside.

"Aw, baby. Have a rough day? How's Bubba?" Dad steps in and blinks for a second when Henry steps forward. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in. Got worried about the family emergency." Henry grabs his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. How can he act so relaxed, so calm, right now?

"He helped with dinner and watched Paxton while I took a shower." I suddenly feel entirely underdressed. And tired. Limbs heavy and drooping. I could use a good night's sleep. I'd settle for a nap.

"You look like you needed the help. Well, I came prepared." Dad holds up the grocery bag I got him when the plastic bag ban went into effect. "Medicine for the monkey, some things to settle his tummy, and a few treats for you both."

He puts it on the counter and shakes Henry's hand. "You don't have to run away on my account."

Henry waves it off, and my heart is seizing in my chest. Is he going to give us away? I'm not ready for that conversation. With either of them.

"No. I just wanted to check on her. I know how late football practice can go this time of year." Henry slips his jacket on, buttoning it closed. It accentuates the width of his shoulders and chest, and the narrowness of his waist. I hadn't even gotten to see any of it this time. He spares me a few seconds and a smile. "Happy to give you a break and see that everything's okay."

I offer him a shaky smile back. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. Paxton likes you."

Why did I have to offer him that tidbit? He didn't even know Paxton existed until tonight. But it was obvious from the moment he saw his dad that they connected. Fear kept me on edge all night, waiting for Henry to ask me about Paxton's father.

You'd think four years would be long enough to have that conversation figured out in my head, but I don't even remotely know what to say about it. Not to him anyway.

"He's a good kid." His hand slips over my shoulder, just a light touch of goodbye.

It's enough for me, even though it doesn't look like it's enough for him. Too many layers of emotions muddle together when I meet his gaze.

Henry doesn't linger, giving my dad a hug, promising to see him Sunday for their football game, and then he's pulling the door closed behind him.

I release a slow breath and tiptoe to peek into the sack and see our favorites: Caramel Creams, Berger Cookies, and Smith's Island Cake. "If I don't hide half of this, we're all going to be sick."

Dad laughs and pulls out the Caramel Creams, opening the bag to offer me one. I take it. Mmm, these are my favorites. As a child, I used to eat the caramel around all the creams and save the cream for last. The way the sugar melted on my tongue was the best thing in the world.

"You always make that face when I get you those. It's a wonder you don't get sick of them with how often I bring them to you." Dad pops one in his mouth, and we share a smile.

"Nah. Couldn't ever get sick of them."

"Bub sleeping already?" He leans against the counter, his back's been acting up from an old football injury. Too involved coaching his team, and he tweaks it. Too young to act like an old man.

"Yeah." I nudge him toward the couch, so he can relax. "He's been sleeping on and off all day. Most of the visit to emergency care even. The poor thing's got no energy."

We sit together, each taking another Caramel Cream.

"That's not like him. He must be really sick."

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah. He keeps us on our toes, doesn't he? But I get worried when he's like this."

"I did too, when you were younger. Shoot, I still do. Anytime something doesn't go right for you." He brushes my hair back and smiles at me, that glittering love in his eyes. "So, how's work going? Must be a star employee with the boss showing up to check on you."

"Our team's only been together two days. I missed one of them. He must have assumed it was dire." Sugar dissolves across my tongue, and I close my eyes. Such a pure piece of happiness.

"If you went to the urgent care, it must have been."

"His fever got up to 103. I didn't want to let it get any higher."

His big hand wraps around mine and holds it. "Good instincts. You've always been such a good mom. Just as caring as your mom was. Always ready to wrap you up and rock you against her at the littlest whimper or sign of tears."

She's become a memory of softness and love. Mom rocked me so many times in my childhood. Made me spoiled and soft. Something I couldn't be after she was gone.

I clear my throat. "But work is good. Our team is brilliant and I've barely had to field any questions or put out any fires yet. I have some really high hopes for what we're putting together."

Pride beams out of him. "I knew you'd be perfect for that job when they told me about it."

I laugh. "You think I'll be perfect for everything."

"You are."

"I am not. But I appreciate it anyway."

"You're getting home on time? Keeping the balance?" Dad leans his head back. My couch, lovingly deemed The Couch of Death because it pulls everyone into its sleepy grasp, is doing its magic on him. He closes his eyes.

"Yes and no. I had an event yesterday that kept me out late. I almost didn't make it back on time to catch Paxton's fever."

"But then you stayed home with him."

"Exactly. And I have the entire weekend to curl up with him. Some serious Mommy time."

"You'll be crawling out of your skin by the time Monday comes around."

He's absolutely right. "See? Perfect balance."

"And everything's okay here? You don't need any money? Not behind on bills? Got enough groceries? Bub's juice?" Dad's practically reaching for his wallet.

"No. I don't need your money, Dad. We've got everything we need." I bump my shoulder into him, and he grunts.

"You know if you find yourself struggling with anything, there's always room for you two at home." His voice holds that wistful tone again. I hate that he's in that house all alone, but staying there makes me feel like a kid. Like a kid with a kid. And it's not a good look on me.

Besides, Paxton needs the stability of our established routine. It's been in place since his birth, and it works. Only one more year until preschool. Then, we can make other changes.

"What would Jackie do without us?" I gasp in mock horror. "You can't leave him out."

"He can have your sister's old room."

We laugh together, quietly. And I hum. "I'd better go check on him. It's been an hour."

Dad pats my hand. "Let me do it. He needs some Pop Pop time."

Pulling my knees up to my chest as he rocks himself up, I nod. "Thanks, Dad. He loves his Pop Pop."

That grin redoubles. He's more proud to have his grandson love him than anything else. It makes my heart feel huge and full.

Dad pauses after a stretch. "Is all this helping you figure out what you want, pumpkin?"

I search his face for what exactly he means, but I know my answer will be laced with much more than what he's asking me.

"Yeah, it is."

And I can say that honestly. I may not know exactly what it all means for me long-term, but I want to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing—at work, with Henry, Jake, and Eli, having my shared space with Jackie, and my special time with my son.

Although, my past experience says it won't last.

But seeing Henry with Paxton made my heart soar. If I let my fears go, hope would take residence in my chest and build itself a little nest.

Can I do that to myself again?