Let her go.

She doesn’t really want you. She wants some version of you that doesn’t exist.

Let her find someone who can make her happy, someone who can make her his everything, someone who will give her the future she deserves, because you can’t.

It had been hard enough to close myself off from her today, but it had taken every ounce of strength I had not to give in when she touched my leg and spoke low in my ear and offered to help me work off the tension. She had no idea how badly I wanted to do exactly that—throw her down on the couch and ravish her hot little body, give her all the love and attention I’d denied her today, take my pleasure in pleasing her, show her how grateful I was that she was here, that she was perfect, that she was mine.

But I couldn’t. I had to let her go.

My hands balled into fists as she put on her shoes.

I’d feel better after she was gone, right? Just like I’d felt better after Rachel had gone. Less threatened. More in control. More like myself. It had felt so good to call the shots after she’d blindsided me—again—by showing up at my door and trying to take Paisley away. Maybe I’d been a little harsh, but fuck her for thinking she got to decide everything all the time. For thinking she could come and go with Paisley as she pleased. For treating me like I didn’t matter, like what I wanted didn’t matter. It had felt good to shut off my feelings, assert myself and take command of the situation. Tell her how things were going to go. Lay out my terms. It felt familiar.

That’s all I wanted. To feel like myself again.

Emme walked to the door.

Don’t look at her. Don’t watch her go.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She reached for the handle. And stopped. Turned around.

“No,” she said, as if I’d asked her a question.

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to be just another dick that blows me off without a good explanation. I’m worth more than that.”

So much more. But I couldn’t give in. “All I said was that I needed some space.”

“That’s bullshit. Something is going on with you, and you’re not telling me what it is.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I could have choked on my own self-loathing.

“No. It’s not.” She went over to the lamp and turned it on. “You look me in the eye and tell me nothing has changed since last night. Because the guy I was with last night is not the same person sitting on that couch right now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I met her eyes for exactly two seconds and looked away.

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about. So what the fuck, Nate? Which version of you is real?”

My hands clenched my knees. My stomach churned. “Last night was me trying to be someone I’m not.”

Silence. “Are you serious?”

I swallowed hard, gulping back all the words of apology threatening to escape my lips. “Yeah. I said what I thought you wanted to hear.”

“Why?”

“I was trying to be what you wanted me to be.”

“All I ever asked you to be was honest!”

“Guess I wasn’t very good at it.” Every word out of my mouth was despicable. I felt sick.

“Why’d you ask me to sleep over last night? Why’d you ask me to go with you to your mom’s today?”

I shrugged. “Seemed like things I should ask you to do.”

“Oh, my God. I cannot fucking believe this.”

I risked a look at her, and she’d fisted her hands in her hair.

“I cannot fucking believe I fell for another one of you.” Her eyes closed and she shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

Fuck. I did not want to be lumped in with all her other weasel exes who’d made her feel bad about herself. I wasn’t dumping her—I was trying to get her to dump me.

I stood up. “Emme, I’m not saying we have to break things off completely.”

She dropped her hands and gaped at me. “You can’t mean that. Now who’s living in a fantasy world?”

“You wanted me to be honest, so I’m being honest. Last night was more of an act than anything else. I wanted you to have a good time.”

“Oh, my God.” She put up a hand to silence me, but I went on.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to stop hanging out completely. It just means I don’t want a girlfriend. I really don’t have time, with Paisley and everything.”

“Don’t you dare use your daughter as an excuse. This isn’t about her.”

I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest like the stupid asshole I was while she gathered herself up.

“You know what, Nate? You were right about me. I trust too easily. I get carried away. I give up my heart without a fight. Congratulations on showing me the truth.” She walked to the door and opened it before turning around again. “I get it now. Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.”

Then she was gone.

I couldn’t sleep. Paisley was restless too, and I spent much of the night pacing the bedroom floor, trying to soothe her and trying to convince myself that I’d done the right thing in setting Emme free. I went over and over my reasons, and every single time I came to the same conclusion. Ultimately, it was never going to work. We were too different. We didn’t want the same things. We would have hurt each other in the end.

But it felt fucking horrible.

I kept seeing her face when I told her I hadn’t meant what I’d said Friday night. She’d been so devastated. It was such a shitty way to end things, to lie to her like that, but I’d been afraid that if I wasn’t a complete dickhead, she’d have been understanding and granted me the space I requested.

Crowded. What a fucking joke. I never felt crowded by her. In fact, all I ever wanted to do was get closer.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

How the hell was I going to get over her? Especially living right across the hall? Were we ever going to speak to each other again? God, I missed her already and she’d only been gone a few hours. And what if I saw her with a guy in the hall or something? Some douchebag who didn’t deserve to touch her hair or hear her laugh or hold her hand, let alone see her naked or smell her skin or feel her legs wrapped around him?

Fuck that guy! I’d fucking tear him apart.

No one deserved those things. Not even me.

Especially not me.

I moved Paisley up to my shoulder, and noticed that she seemed a little warm. Immediately I pressed her cheek to mine. It was burning hot. An alarm bell went off in my head.

I turned on the nightstand lamp and saw that her face was flushed. Oh, fuck! What if she had a fever? What should I do?

My first instinct was to go get Emme, but then I remembered that I couldn’t. Dammit! Grimacing, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and called Rachel. No answer.

Fuck!

Should I take her to the emergency room? But what if they asked for information I didn’t have? I didn’t even know her fucking birth date, for God’s sake! Or her social security number, her blood type, her weight, or anything else about her except her name. And I wasn’t even legally her father yet. Would they let me give consent to treat her?

I couldn’t worry about that—I had to take her. What if something was really wrong? I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her while she was in my care.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” I murmured, for myself as much for her. My heart was pounding. “It’s going to be okay.”

I set her in the sleeper so I could quickly get dressed and put some shoes on. Downstairs, I got her into her jacket and car seat, grabbed my keys, and had just gone out the door when my phone vibrated. It was Rachel calling me back.

“Hello?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think she has a fever.”

She gasped. “Oh no!”

“She was fine all day,” I said quickly, as if I had to prove this wasn’t my fault. “She ate and slept and was really good.”

“Did you take her temperature?”

“No.” That hadn’t even occurred to me. I was too busy panicking.

“Do you have an infant thermometer?”

Did I? Had Emme put one in the basket at the baby store? Maybe she did. “Actually, yes. I think so. I’ll look. You don’t think I should take her right to the emergency room?”

“Depends on her fever. Take her temperature and tell me what it is. I’ll either meet you at an Urgent Care or your apartment.”

At that moment, Emme’s apartment door opened and she appeared in her robe, pajama pants, and bare feet. My heart ached. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept, either. I wanted to wrap my arms around her so badly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, looking at Paisley. “Is she sick?”

“I think she has a fever,” I said. “Do I have an infant thermometer?”

She nodded. “It’s in a bin on one of the changing table shelves.”

“I’ll call you right back,” I told Rachel.

“Hurry, please,” she said.

We went into my apartment and Emme located the thermometer while I took Paisley out of her car seat. She wasn’t crying anymore, but I could tell something was wrong. Her eyes were glassy, and she was listless and radiating heat. It gutted me that she felt pain I couldn’t relieve.

“Here.” Emme handed me something that looked like a toy. It was small and white with a long, skinny tip and had a digital screen on the front.

“How do I use it? Under the tongue?”

She shook her head. “It’s a rectal thermometer.”

“R-Rectal?” My voice cracked.

“Yes. You have to take it that way in babies this young. Want me to do it?”

Jesus Christ. Of course I did. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask her. “No. I’ll do it.” I undressed Paisley, who began to cry again, like she knew something bad was coming. She’s going to hate me for this. “Should I put her on the changing table?”

“Just turn her onto her belly on your lap,” Emme instructed.

I laid Paisley across my thighs on her stomach and took the thermometer from Emme, noticing that she’d covered the tip with some kind of lubricant. Ten seconds later I was still staring at it. There was no way I could do this.

“Nate.”

I looked up at Emme. “I can’t do it. She trusts me not to hurt her.”

She rolled her eyes and muttered something I didn’t catch. “Give it to me.”

I handed it over. She pressed a button and carefully inserted the tip. Paisley wiggled and protested, her little arms and legs flailing. Emme frowned as she tried to keep the thermometer in place. Thank God she’s here, I kept thinking. Followed by, I don’t deserve it.

The thermometer beeped a couple times and then a number popped onto the screen.

“Ninety nine point nine,” Emme said.

“Should I take her to the ER?”

“I don’t think you need to, but let me check something.” Glancing around, she spotted my stack of baby books over on a side table. While she flipped through it, I took Paisley over to the changing table and put a new diaper on her, silently apologizing for the injustice she’d just suffered.

“No,” Emme said, reading from the book. “In babies three months or younger, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends taking a child to the doctor only if the fever is one hundred point four or higher. Call her doctor tomorrow.” She set the book down. “But you do need to give her a fever reducer.”

“Do I have one?”

“Yes. It’s in the same bin under the table. Give me a second to clean off the thermometer and I’ll find it for you.”

She went into the kitchen and I finished dressing Paisley. When she came over to the table, she pulled a bin from beneath it, dropped the thermometer in and pulled out a red box that said Infants’ Tylenol. “What does she weigh?”

Guilt slammed into me. “I don’t know.”

“You need to call Rachel.”

I nodded. “Can you watch her for a second?”

“Yes.” She picked her up and I went over to the couch, where I’d left my phone, and discovered Rachel had actually called twice in the last few minutes. I called her back.

“Nate? What took you so long? Is she okay?”

“She’s okay. Her fever is ninety-nine point nine. We’re giving her some Tylenol.”

“We?”

“Emme is here.” Our eyes met and Emme looked away fast. “How much does Paisley weigh?”

“She was eleven pounds, eight ounces at her last checkup.”

“Eleven pounds, eight ounces,” I told Emme.

“I’m coming over,” Rachel said. “I’m already on my way.”

I didn’t want her here, but I didn’t feel like I could say no, either. “Okay.”

“Don’t give her anything until I get there.”

“Why not? She’s got a fever and needs the medicine.”

“Because I’m worried about the dosage. It’s dangerous to give a baby too much.”

“I’ll read the dosage chart, Rachel. I’m not an idiot.” But I felt like one. If Emme hadn’t come over, I wouldn’t have even known where the thermometer was, let alone how to use it. A thought ran through my mind—I’m not cut out for this. And they both know it. Everyone knows it.

“Just wait for me, please,” Rachel demanded. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

We hung up and I walked over to Emme and Paisley. “Rachel is on her way over. She doesn’t want me to give her any medicine without her here.”

“Are you going to wait?”

“I don’t know.”

Emme pressed her lips together, but didn’t say anything. I picked up the Infants’ Tylenol box and looked at the front. It had a picture of a woman holding a baby on it. It was always a woman with a baby, on everything. Dads might as well not even exist as far as marketing was concerned. I checked the back of the box. “It says one point two five milliliters for six to eleven pounds, and two point five for twelve to seventeen pounds. What if a baby is in between eleven and twelve pounds? How much do you give?”

“I’d go with the lesser amount to be safe.”

The thought of making an unsafe decision for Paisley nauseated me. “I’ll wait for Rachel.”

“Fine.” She kissed Paisley’s forehead. “Feel better, peanut.” Then she handed her to me. “I’m going home.”

Please don’t leave me. “Okay.” I watched her walk to the door, my heart hammering. “Emme, wait.”

“What?” She didn’t even turn around, and I didn’t blame her.

“Do you hate me?”

“No, Nate. I don’t hate you. I hate what you did, but mostly I hate myself for falling for you. For believing your lies when I should have known better. I deserve this broken heart.”

I swallowed hard, wishing she would be harder on me. Tell me I was an asshole. Call me a liar. Hit me if she wanted to. Hearing that she blamed herself made me feel even worse.

There were so many things I wanted to say to her. Simple things like I’m sorry. Don’t go. I need you. And complicated things too, like I’m ashamed to be such an inept father. Why does love have to hurt? You said you wouldn’t let me push you away, but you did.

But in the end, I said nothing, and she walked out.

Rachel arrived shortly after Emme left, out of breath and frantic to get her hands on Paisley, who’d fallen asleep in my arms. She woke up when Rachel reached for her and began to cry.

“Did you give her the medicine?” Rachel asked, holding her close.

I stared at her. “You told me to wait for you.” She’d better not be mad at me for doing what she asked.

“I know, but you were so damn bossy earlier tonight I wasn’t sure you would.”

I went over to the changing table, angrily grabbed the box, and brought it over so she could see the dosage chart.

“Okay, let’s go with one point two five milliliters. Open it up and grab the little dropper thing.”

We managed to get Paisley to take the medicine, although she wasn’t happy about it, and it took both of us to hold her still on the changing table and get the drops in her mouth.

“Good girl,” Rachel said, scooping her up. “You’ll feel better soon, angel.” She cuddled Paisley against her chest and looked at me. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t capable of giving it to her, I was just scared.”

“I’m not sure I was capable of giving it to her. That took both of us.”

“You’d have figured it out.”

I shrugged. Only because Emme had been here. On my own, I was lost.

“It’s not like I know what I’m doing either, Nate. I never planned on having kids, either. I liked my life just fine.”

I didn’t want to talk about life before. I didn’t even want to think about it. “Do you want to feed her?” I asked Rachel, stifling a yawn.

“Sure.”

In the kitchen, I made a bottle and grabbed a burp cloth, then handed them both to Rachel, who was sitting on the couch. I sat adjacent to them on a chair and tried to stay awake.

“You look exhausted,” Rachel said.

“Because it’s fucking four AM and I haven’t slept at all.” I hadn’t meant to be a dick, but between the breakup with Emme and confronting my shortcomings as a father, my mood was shit.

“So she was up all night?”

“From about midnight on.” I yawned again.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I snapped.

“Sorry,” she said. “You mentioned her name earlier. I thought she was here, that’s all.”

“She went home. After rescuing me yet again.” The words were out before I could stop them. My brain wasn’t functioning right on so little sleep.

“Rescuing you?”

I rubbed my face with both hands and dropped them into my lap. “I didn’t know where the thermometer was or how to use it. She did it for me.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you known her?”

“A few years.”

“Earlier, she sort of made it sound like you two were a thing.”

I frowned. “We were.”

“You broke up tonight?”

“Look, I don’t really want to talk about this, okay? It’s none of your business and doesn’t really matter anyway.”

“Okay, okay. Relax. Jeez.” She sat Paisley up to burp her. “I was only going to say she seemed nice.”

“She is.” And sweet and beautiful and sexy as fuck, and I was never going to hold her again. Had I even thanked her tonight? God, my level of assholery escalated with every passing minute.

“I didn’t figure you for the type to have a girlfriend.”

“I’m not.”

“Then again, I didn’t figure you for the type to be a good father either.”

I’m not, I wanted to say. I can’t do it. I don’t know why I thought I could.

“And you are,” she said.

“Thanks.” But I wasn’t. I was a fake.

“Are you okay, Nate?”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t even tell anymore.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…overwhelmed. And I’m not handling things very well.”

“I understand.” She paused. “Why don’t I take Paisley home with me tonight?”

I didn’t have it in me to argue. “Fine.”

“This is really for the best,” she said five minutes later, buckling Paisley into her car seat. “You need sleep, and babies really need their mommies when they’re sick.”

“Right,” I said. My throat was tight.

“And we’ll see you on Monday at your office.”

“Right.”

“And then I’ll take her back to Battle Creek with me while you…figure things out. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I went down to the parking garage with her to switch the base of the car seat from my SUV to her car. Paisley was asleep by then, and I could hardly look at her as Rachel buckled her in.

“Get some sleep,” she said as she got behind the wheel. “We’ll see you Monday.”

I nodded, watched her drive away, and felt the weight of failure settle heavily on my shoulders.

I’d failed my daughter. I’d failed the only woman I’d ever loved. I’d failed myself.

But as I fell into bed a few minutes later, I told myself that they were both better off without me.

They were safe.