7. Caroline

Walker's grunts and soft cries wake me. I look at my phone, blinking through bleary eyes as I try to make out the time. Eleven… Only an hour after I laid down to sleep.

I scoot out from the blankets, lift him up, and let him latch on to my breast. I look cautiously toward Jake, then lift up my knees to cover myself a little as I feed him.

Jake's huge form takes up most of the couch. He's lying on his back, one hand behind his head and the other dangling to the floor. Even beneath the blankets, I can make out the shape of his long legs and toned muscles.

I drag my eyes away, feeling silly for staring at him, especially as he's sleeping. Part of me wonders why we can't just agree to be grown-ups and share a bed. It's not like we never slept together, after all. It wasn't even as if we had some big blow-up and angry end to our not-relationship. He just… drifted away once I got pregnant and let him believe it was somebody else's baby. Go figure.

I bite back frustration. I'm going to tell him. Less than a week. I might even tell him tomorrow. I'm just waiting for the right moment. I'll apologize profusely when I tell him and explain exactly why I waited. I know he'll be angry with me, but I know Jake better than anyone. He'll forgive me, too. I know he will. It'd almost be easier if I thought he'd scream and yell.

But it's not like I just decided to keep it a secret for shits and giggles. I definitely had my reasons, even if they feel less and less justifiable now that Walker is born and Jake still doesn't know.

I stroke Walker's head as he falls asleep, reminding him to fill up so maybe he'll let me sleep a little longer before waking me up again. He dutifully resumes feeding.

I smile down at him. "You and me, Walker." I'm whispering so I don't wake Jake. "That wouldn't be so bad, would it? You and me against the world?"

Walker closes his eyes and seems to fall back asleep. I run my fingers across the few wispy hairs on his head. "But it wouldn't be terrible if it wasn't just us, right?"

I carefully put him back in his fold-out crib, set his small dinosaur lovie on his shoulder, and give him his pacifier. He sleepily accepts it, then lets out one of those tiny baby groans I love so much.

I drift back to sleep with a small smile on my face and a seed of doubt deep in my chest.

It'san hour later when Walker is stirring and crying again. This time, his cries aren't soft. He shrieks, and Jake sits up on the couch, knuckling his eyes.

"Is he okay?" Jake asks.

"I think he just needs a new diaper." I start to pull off the comforter, but Jake gets up, sticking out a hand to stop me.

"I can handle a diaper," he says. "Get some sleep for a change."

I hesitate. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure. And I'm going to cover up that little pecker so he doesn't piss on me this time. Give me a few days, and I'll be a pro. I promise."

I smile and sink back into my pillow. I know he's doing this so I can sleep, but I feel such a rush of appreciation for him right now that I don't think I could sleep if I wanted. Instead, I watch the father of my child lift Walker from his crib and go through the steps I taught him yesterday to change his diaper.

Walker cries even harder when Jake picks him up, but Jake seems calm in the chaos.

"Hey, man," he says softly. "Your mom is trying to sleep. Are you too little to learn manners? Because that's bad manners. You don't scream in the middle of the night, okay?"

Walker keeps shrieking–his little fists balled tight as he squirms and kicks.

"Okay," Jake says. "Okay, fine. We'll keep working on that." He's got Walker set up on the changing mat with a diaper in one hand and wipes in the other. I see him pause as if he's mentally going through a checklist before he starts.

Jake raises a warning finger to Walker. "I'm gonna pop this diaper open. I'm here to help you, okay? If you piss on me, that's going to be bad manners. Remember our talk about manners?"

Walker actually calms a little, as if he's responding to the way Jake is talking to him in such a calm voice.

Jake touches the diaper velcro, pauses, and gives Walker a look.

Walker starts kicking and pumping his arms up and down. Jake hesitates. "That better not mean you're excited to piss on my face, Walker."

He waits, narrowing his eyes as Walker kicks and waves his arms even more excitedly.

I'm smiling as I watch the little show between the two, even though it hurts my heart. I've been doing this on my own for two months now. I know some women do it on their own their whole lives, and two months would be a drop in the bucket for them. But I've also been trying to prepare myself for that. Seeing what I'm missing by doing this mom thing solo hurts in ways I wasn't expecting. Seeing how good Jake is with Walker hurts even more, especially when I haven't told him because he convinced me and half the world he never wanted to be a father. Well, I suppose it wasn't me he was trying to convince. But I heard what he said, along with everyone who watched his press conference during the Sophie Gray scandal.

Jake moves so quickly after he pulls open the diaper that Walker couldn't have peed on him if he tried. He pulls open the diaper and sets a wipe right over Walker's weapon in the same motion. He uses about three times as many wipes to clean Walker as I would have but otherwise does the job with expertise. It takes him a little bit of fumbling to get the fresh diaper strapped on Walker and then a few more seconds to get the onesie clipped back on.

Jake lifts Walker up, and I think he's about to put him back in the crib. But when he's holding him, Walker reaches up and touches the gold chain around Jake's neck. Jake pauses, watching as our baby holds his necklace and starts to shake it around. He smiles down at Walker, cradling him a little tighter as he seems content to stand there and watch.

My heart is melting, but I keep pretending to be asleep.

Jake bounces slightly on his feet like he's giving it a try. Walker's play with the necklace slows down over the next few minutes while Jake holds him. Eventually, Walker drifts off to sleep, and Jake sets him down softly in the crib. He glances at me, notices my eyes are open, and straightens suddenly like he was just caught.

He rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. "How did I do?"

"Amazing," I say.

"He's a pretty cool kid."

"I don't think I've seen him stop crying before he got his diaper changed before. That was impressive."

"Well," Jake says as he gets himself back on the couch. "If he's going to be my pretend son, I guess I can try to teach that little barbarian some manners, right?"

"Right," I say, yawning. I feel a little twinge in the back of my throat like dry hairspray and cringe. I had better not be getting sick. I haven't been sick since having Walker, and I'm not even sure how single mothers are supposed to deal with that. I put it from my mind, even though I can also feel a little stiffness in my shoulders and neck now that I'm paying closer attention to my body.

"Just let me know if he needs another change," Jake says. "I don't mind helping."

"Thank you," I say. "But really, you don't have to. I'm able to do this on my own."

"I know you are. But I want to help. So, get over it." There's a playful edge to his voice that makes me smirk.

I close my eyes again, and I'm hit with a wave of disbelief. I'm in a hotel room with Jake Summers and we're playing at being mom and dad together. I know I should keep the secret, but I'm also worried I'm going to spill everything to Mia and Andi once I get back. Paisley, though? I think she may have to be on the outside for this one. I love the woman, but she's a touch too wild when drunk and might just spill it by mistake.

I try to imagine Andi and Mia's reaction to all of this. They would lose their freaking minds. My amusement fades when I think about what's at stake, though. If this somehow goes wrong, I could lose my bed and breakfast. It's still hard to wrap my head around that.

I wonder how long I'll have to wait to hear from Jake's lawyer. Maybe we'll find out the whole thing was bullshit from the start–Peter never had any grounds to threaten the bed and breakfast in the first place. If we did, I guess Jake and I would just… call this whole thing off. He'd have to cancel the ring we ordered yesterday.

And I'd have to pretend I wouldn't be a little sad to see this cut short.

There's no point in lying to myself. I'm enjoying these glimpses of what my life could have been like if things were different–seeing what Jake would have been like as a father and partner.

I sigh, try to shut off my brain, and close my eyes tighter. Sleep, Caroline. Go to sleep because Walker is already scheming his next wake-up, and it will be sooner than you want. That's the one guarantee of motherhood.