Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

NOLAN

M y hands are shaking when I hang up the phone. I'm going to have to sit in front of a camera and discuss my life. I'm going to have to answer questions that I'm not sure I have answers for. It's basically my worst nightmare. Except for the part where Amber is going to be sitting next to me.

My head drops onto the pillow beneath me, and I stare at the ceiling. I'm starting to think that I'll weather just about anything to be with Amber.

Fake dating. Invasive interviews. Public judgment. Adjacent fame.

My phone vibrates with a text. Teddy asked if he could swing by the hotel to see Maddy. I told him yes.

If I wasn't worried about waking Maddy, I'd groan out loud. Teddy is about the last person I want to see right now.

A second later, another message appears. I shouldn't have done that. I'll call him and tell him no.

I sigh. Amber has other things she needs to be doing. It's fine. Get ready for your show and I'll handle Teddy.

Teddy Fucking Lance. The balls on that guy. I'm not a violent person but if I were I'd kick his ass. Why is he determined to make Amber miserable?

We're quite close to the arena so it's only about ten minutes later that I hear a knock at the outer door of the suite. I shift Maddy so I can slide her into the crib that's next to the bed. Before I can set her down, her eyes blink open. They're watery and a bit puffy, as if she's been crying instead of sleeping.

The knock sounds again—a little louder this time.

"Do you want to answer the door with me?" I ask. Her mouth screws up like she's going to cry so I tuck her against my chest, weave my way through the suite, and pull open the door just as the knocking resumes.

With his fist raised, Teddy nearly falls into the room. At the last second, he restores his balance and without looking up or moving forward, he starts fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket.

"Want to come in?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.

"Umm…yeah." He shuffles into the room, and I let the door fall closed with a thud. His gaze stays locked on his zipper as he bites his lip and runs his free hand through his messy hair.

"You wanted to check on Maddy?" I ask when he still doesn't break the silence. Part of me can't believe he's here. The other part thinks he wants me to yell at him.

"Oh…umm, yes." He finally looks up and zeroes in on Maddy's pink cheeks and watery eyes. "She looks…cozy?"

"She's extra cuddly with this fever." I start to hand her to him, but he puts his hands up and backs into the door. Maddy whimpers and clutches my shirt as if she doesn't want to leave my arms. "You don't want to hold her?"

"I'm not really…good with babies." He drops his hands and starts fiddling with his zipper again.

Annoyance zips through me. "She's your daughter."

He flushes. "She might cry if you give her to me, so it would probably be best if you keep her." He says it like it's a statement of fact and there's nothing he can do about it.

"You don't hold her when she cries?" I ask incredulously as my annoyance increases. I know I haven't seen him with her very much, and I did witness his mad dash out of the pool, but he's got to be kidding. Why is he even here if he doesn't want to hold her?

"Um…not really. Amber's better at that kind of thing. So I just…um…stick to playing with Maddy when she's happy."

My eyes narrow in judgment, but he can't see my expression because he's back to focusing on the stupid zipper.

"Teddy, take your daughter right now," I demand as I adjust my grip and press her against his chest. He grabs her before he can stop himself.

I release her, and then hover in front of them because I can't believe I just told him what to do and I don't entirely trust him not to drop her. Her already miserable eyes fill, and she starts crying exactly as he predicted. It isn't the loud screaming she excels at—more of a pitiful whimper—but it's still enough for him to look like he's going to puke.

"Breathe," I tell him. "Turn her around, put her against your chest, and rub her back."

He complies with shaky hands, and I barely resist the urge to snatch her away from him. Even though I forced him to take her, I'm going to be pissed if he drops her.

With him.

And with myself.

"She's still crying," he says, rubbing her back almost frantically while he takes short, halting breaths.

"Babies cry when they don't get what they want. It isn't the end of the world." I usher him further into the room while trying to access my inner calm. It isn't easy. "She's sick and you woke her up when you knocked."

He winces and almost stumbles. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"I'm going to warm up her bottle. Why don't you have a seat?" I practically push him into the closest chair. She'll be much safer if he's sitting down.

He peers up at me. "I don't like it when she's unhappy."

"No one likes it when a baby's unhappy, but you can handle a few tears, and so can she."

I know my tone makes me sound like a jerk, but the last thing Teddy needs is more coddling. His woe is me act has worn thin. He's a grown man with a child and he ought to start acting like it.

I turn toward the kitchen and busy myself warming up Maddy's bottle while she keeps whimpering and crying softly.

Out of the blue, Teddy starts making weird shushing noises. She doesn't stop crying, but it's oddly charming to see him finally making an effort. I scowl because I'm not in the mood to find him charming.

He's an asshole who wants to ruin my life.

I screw a nipple onto Maddy's bottle and stomp across the room, hand it to him, and stick a pillow under his right arm. He awkwardly adjusts Maddy's position. It isn't hard to tell that he hasn't given her a bottle before, but he manages to get it into her mouth, so I don't offer any advice or suggestions.

She quiets as she starts to drink it.

"You must think I'm such a dumbass," he says softly.

I make a humming sound because, yes, I absolutely think that.

"Why'd you let me come over?" he asks.

"I didn't. I'm not in charge of those kind of decisions." Then I add, "Maddy is your daughter."

His brows draw together. "I think we both know I'm not really father material. I don't even know what to do when she cries."

"It's kind of too late to decide you don't want to be a father."

He tenses and says, "I didn't say I don't want to be her father. It's just—I'm not much of a role model, so it's probably best if I keep my distance."

"Being a role model or not is sort of up to you, isn't it?"

"Maybe," he grumbles under his breath. "It's just—why aren't you pissed at me?"

"Is that why you're really here? Because you wanted to see if I'm pissed?"

"No. Of course not." He shifts his attention to the ceiling. "But…aren't you?"

"Of course I am. And not just for the reason you think."

"Okay. I'll bite." He rolls his neck from side to side.

"I'm pissed at the way you treat Amber and I'm pissed that you outed our relationship to a reporter. But mostly, I'm pissed that you don't take accountability or responsibility for yourself or your daughter."

He flinches. "I…uh…already told you, Maddy's better off without me."

I make a buzzing sound. "Wrong."

His cheeks redden. "Is that why you made me hold her? Because you think I'm not any good at this?" He sucks in a breath. "I think we both know you're more of a father to her than I'll ever be."

I scrub my hand across my face and wonder if I should let him off the hook. It isn't as if I can make him be the father she deserves, and it isn't my place to tell him that he should do better.

Although, there isn't anyone better qualified to speak about the challenge of having an infamous father, and if I don't say it, who will? "It isn't a competition between us. Sure, I can love her. And I could probably make it so that she doesn't miss you much, but—and I can't stress this enough—she'll always feel your loss if you choose to be nothing but a casual observer in her life."

He doesn't react other than the tear that runs down his cheek. "You can't know that."

"Wrong again. My father is Russell Gage, so I'm quite familiar with having a father who isn't always around and who adores being famous."

Teddy's mouth opens and closes twice before he manages to get any words out. "Holy shit. You're serious? Your father is the movie star Russell Gage?"

I sigh and nod. If telling him about my father wasn't necessary in order to make my point, I wouldn't have done it.

"Your dad is hot," he adds.

"Not relevant." I rub my forehead. "Why do you think I told you about my father?"

His response is immediate and surprisingly accurate. "Because if Russell Gage can be a decent father, I can too."

"Precisely."

His expression brightens and his eyes light up, but as the seconds tick by, the joy slowly seeps away. "I appreciate your example, but"—his voice drops to a whisper—"I have no idea what I'm doing. Even if I wanted to do better, I wouldn't know how."

He gets points for admitting that. Not many but a few.

"I'll help you." The words come out of my mouth, but I'm not sure which of us is more surprised.

His jaw goes slack. "Why would you do that?" he asks suspiciously as Maddy wrestles the bottle out of his hands so she can tip it further back.

"Because you need the help."

I must have lost my mind.

"I do. And I appreciate that you realize that, but I don't understand why you aren't being a dick to me. I wouldn't blame you if you were. I wronged you." His voice drops. "It might have been on purpose. Amber is pissed. Really pissed."

"I can be pissed at you and still not act like a dick."

"Really?" His nose wrinkles.

"Yes, really. I have some control whether I'm a dick or not."

"Oh. You do? That's…unexpected." He blinks. "I'm not sure I can say the same."

"That's not news."

He fiddles with his zipper. "I hate when Amber's mad at me. It makes me feel out of control."

"Then maybe you should practice restraint from time to time."

"Probably." His shoulders droop. "I just—you don't have any reason to be nice to me but you are anyway, and I don't understand it. I don't like shit I don't understand." He taps on his forehead with his fist. "You're the first person who has ever called me out for avoiding the serious stuff with Maddy. In addition to never holding her when she cries, I've never changed her diaper, or watched her by myself. Amber thinks—or maybe she knows—that I'm not good at being a dad. So does everyone else. I can be the fun uncle or whatever, but that's it."

I run the words I want to say through my head. They're probably too blunt. But maybe he needs to hear them anyway. "I won't argue that you can be a selfish asshole. You hide behind your fuckboy persona, and you avoid taking responsibility for your actions. It's your own fault that no one thinks you can handle a baby." I pause to let my words sink in. "But—and this is important—none of that is relevant right now. You are her father. And she deserves your best. It's up to you if you give it to her."

He exhales. "Fuck. Now I feel even worse than I felt when I got here."

"I'm not here to make you feel better." And now, I do sound like a dick. I wonder if I've gone too far, but he just nods.

"I know. A lot of people think I'm a jerk and an asshole but pretty much no one is willing to say it to my face." He wrinkles his nose. "I think I kind of like hearing you say it."

I shake my head. He's going to have to find someone else to unpack that with.

He doesn't seem to require a response because he continues rambling. "I sort of hate you. Amber likes you or loves you—I don't know which—but the way she looks at you is not the way she looked at me. Plus, you're so damn competent with Maddy. You're like…perfect dad material." He pauses. "It sucks. I am sorry about what I did. I'm not very good at controlling my impulses and I got caught up in my misery which caused me to say some things I shouldn't have said and now—" He groans loud enough to startle Maddy. The bottle falls out of her mouth, and she starts to fuss.

His gaze locks on me. "Will you please take her?"

I take pity on him, and her, as I rise and scoop Maddy up. She settles comfortably into my arms, still fussing a bit. He purses his lips and tips his head back as he sinks deeper into the chair.

"She likes you," he mumbles.

"Yep. Doesn't matter though. She can like me and still need you."

"I didn't mean Maddy. Obviously Maddy likes you, and I hear what you're saying about not using that as an excuse to be a shitty father." He sighs. "I meant Amber. I lost her a long time ago, but it didn't feel permanent until now. I'm not used to regret and can't say I like it very much."

"You have a lot of things you don't like." I don't want to say the next part, but like everything else I've said to him, I think he needs to hear it. "You shouldn't doubt that you're important to Amber. She still cares about you, even if you don't deserve it."

He makes a noise that I can't decipher. "I suppose. I'm sorry about Annabelle. Truly sorry. Talking to her about your relationship was a shit thing to do. It might not be the shittiest thing I've ever done, but it's definitely in the top ten and I can't claim I didn't know what I was doing." He scrubs his hand over his face. "I don't really know what I can do to make it up to you, but I'm going to try to stop being a dick. And I'm going to try to stop wanting what I can't have."

Wanting what he can't have.

I don't want to feel sympathy for him. If the defeat in his voice is any indication, he doesn't like himself any more than he likes me. Knowing what I know—about myself, and him, and Amber—do I have any choice other than to offer forgiveness?

"I appreciate your apology. You and I are going to be fine." I shift my attention to Maddy, who has drifted asleep again. She isn't my daughter, but she's wormed her way into my heart and I'll do whatever I can to give her the best life. "I'll help you find your footing with Maddy. I didn't live with my father and when he was on location I didn't see him for months. He was rarely there for the day-to-day aspects of my life, but I always knew he loved me, and he's always been there when I needed him to be. You can give Maddy the same thing he gave me. Maybe even more if you want."

Teddy sniffles. Big fat tears trickle down his cheeks and drop into his lap. "I don't deserve your help."

"It doesn't matter. Do you want it?"

"Yes." He swipes at the tears on his cheeks without shame or embarrassment. I don't know many men who will openly weep. He's such a strange mix of vulnerability and arrogance. He's more like my father than anyone else I've ever met. Maybe that's why it's impossible for me to hate him.

"Okay then. We'll figure this out and we'll make it work."

He nods. "I think I should probably go. I'm not supposed to be here. My manager is going to be pissed." He rises to his feet, kisses the top of Maddy's head, and shuffles toward the door. Partway there, he stops and looks back over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"You have my number if you want to check in on Maddy. You can call anytime."

He nods again, pulls open the door, and disappears into the hallway.