Addison

Light streamed into the room and I blinked, rolling over to grab my phone from the nightstand beside me. Clicking it on, I glanced at the time and gasped.

“Shit.” I jumped from the bed and rushed to the baby’s room, my hands already outstretched to soothe whatever tears were surely waiting for me.

Why had the baby monitor stopped working? And why hadn’t Max woken me up before he left? He was already long gone—had probably left an hour ago, which meant Dylan was completely unattended and it was entirely my fault. If she was hurt or hungry . . .

I pushed open the door to find Dylan standing at the bars of her crib, gurgling happily, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” I breathed, moving closer to scoop her into my arms. As I approached, I noticed something else—a little piece of paper, the same shade of white as the crib, with tiny, scrawled words in cramped lettering.

 

Addison—

Sorry I missed you. The baby got up at the crack of dawn so we had a daddy/daughter early morning. She’s fed and changed and needed a few more Zs, so I figured I’d let her wake you when she was ready.

Have a great day,

Max

 

I blinked. “Have a great day?” That was it?

Why the hell would he get up so early with the baby when he had to work all day? Unless . . .

I scrubbed my free hand over my face and then lifted Dylan from her crib.

I’d overstepped last night—gotten too personal too fast. And now, of course, he was avoiding me.

Greg had done that too. When I’d first confronted him about his proclivities in the bedroom, he’d shied away from me and barely spoken to me for a week. He’d told me that I ran over him like a steamroller, that I didn’t give him time to express himself naturally.

Had I done that to Max too?

Dylan strained to get down and I set her gently onto the carpet. She toddled toward the little box full of toys I’d brought for her yesterday, and I glanced around the room.

This place alone should have been clue enough that Dylan hadn’t been living here long. Aside from the barely stocked white changing table and the matching white crib, the room was bare. The walls were white and the windows were undressed. It was more fitting for a nunnery than a nursery.

“We’re going to have to do something about this, little lady,” I told Dylan.

“Ball,” she responded, holding one up to show me.

“Smart little girl.”

I pulled her into my arms again and carried her downstairs, careful to make sure her ball was in tow, and together we started our daily routine. We made breakfast together and ate, and afterward, I built a fort for her with the spare linens in the hall closet.

Like I had the day before, I texted pictures and messages to Max, and little gray checks appeared on my screen, letting me know he’d seen my messages and had chosen not to respond.

Well, that was okay. After all, he hadn’t responded yesterday either.

Still, I couldn’t shake the mental image of him grimacing when he saw my name flash on his phone screen. Like just looking at what I said—no matter what it was—was some colossal reminder of what an oversharing, prying asshole I was. And then I’d gone and made it a billion times worse by telling him the story about Greg. Max had probably felt obligated to make me feel better, hence his panty-melting declaration, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d overstepped.

There was nothing to do about that now, so Dylan and I went on with our day, playing and cleaning and laughing until the doorbell rang at three in the afternoon.

I frowned, wondering if Max might be expecting a package, but when I made it to the door, I found a tall, leggy woman grinning at me. She was in a gray business suit that perfectly matched the color of her eyes and set off the bright red of her hair.

I sucked in my cheeks, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Dylan and I had deemed today a pajama day.

“Hello,” I said. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.” Her voice was just as chipper as her smile, but something about it sounded too shrill and wrong—almost like she’d had to rehearse what it sounded like to be polite. She took a step inside the house and I backed away, somewhat at a loss as she stuck her hand out toward me.

I accepted it and shook it, not sure what else to do.

“I’m Tiffany, Max’s assistant. I was in the area, and Max asked me to drop by and let you know he’d be working late tonight. He also wanted me to see if you all were doing all right?” She glanced over at the linen fort, which was primarily held up by the vacuum Dylan had taken to sitting on like it was a pony.

“There’s the little angel,” she cooed, striding past me and making a beeline toward Dylan.

The baby’s eyes widened and she scrambled from her seat, retreating deeper into the fort.

“Sorry,” I said. “Almost nap time. She’s a little fussy.”

“Quite all right.” Tiffany sank onto her knees and started slapping her lap like she was inviting a puppy to play fetch. “Come here, Dylan. Come say hello.”

Dylan didn’t move, and I cleared my throat.

“So,” Tiffany said as she twisted to look at me. “You guys are getting along all right?”

“Very well, thank you.” I tried hard not to grit my teeth, but this bitch was getting on my nerves now. What was I, some high-school babysitter who needed checking up on? I was a professional. Why the hell would he have this woman march in here and interrupt our routine like this without telling me she was coming?

Exactly right.

Whatever Max’s reasons, it wasn’t his assistant’s fault.

I blew out a sigh, irrationally feeling hurt. Then I knelt onto the floor beside her and motioned for Dylan to come toward me. When she did, I gestured to Tiffany.

“Dylan, will you say hello to Tiffany?” I asked.

The baby waved a chubby fist and Tiffany caught it eagerly, shaking it like they’d just made a business deal on Shark Tank.

“So nice to see you again, little miss,” Tiffany cooed.

“Oh, you’ve met before?” My eyebrows inched higher. Max had said Dylan had only been here a few days before I’d been hired. But then, that would have been over the weekend, so . . . “Did Max bring her into the office?”

Jealousy? This was new.

“Oh yes, but we met before that too. Dylan and I go way back.” She winked at the baby. “I can never get over how cute she is. Such beautiful eyes, just like her father.” Her tone suggested she’d seen a lot more than Max’s eyes, and I struggled to remain impassive.

“She certainly does,” I said, and Dylan scooted off my lap and crawled back into the sanctuary of her fort.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to live with him,” Tiffany went on, apparently not sensing what I thought was my very obvious discomfort with the subject.

“Oh, so far it’s been easy. Maybe he’s just got his best foot forward. Should I be worried? Does he leave the seat up or is it something worse?” I said with a forced grin.

“No, no, no. He’s just an exacting kind of man, you know? A lot of successful businessmen like him are. Plus the military training. His housekeeper must have almost nothing to do.”

I remained silent, not wanting to divulge the utter chaos I’d walked into the day before, slightly mollified that Miss Tiffany didn’t know as much as she thought she did. “Yes, he mentioned the Army.”

“Yup, he was a Ranger. Quite the accomplishment.” She said this as though she had given him the title herself.

“Oh, how interesting. You’d never know it,” I said.

“Unless you look at his tattoos. But you probably haven’t seen the one on his back,” Tiffany said with a wink, and I feigned a smile in return.

“Right. Well, I do appreciate you stopping by and checking on us. We’re going to get ready for naptime, but you can let him know that we’re all just fine here. I hope he doesn’t have to work too long.”

Tiffany sighed. “A workaholic. Another fault, I’m afraid. But yes, I’ll tell him you’re good. You’re sure you don’t need anything at all?”

I glanced at Dylan and tilted my mouth to the side. In truth, I’d been hoping to talk to him about the nursery over dinner, but if he wasn’t coming home . . .

“Well, we had talked about me sprucing up the baby’s room a little. Can you have him call me about that?”

Tiffany cut in with a tight laugh. “Oh, you should definitely go. Do you need a credit card?” She rifled inside her big red bag and pulled out a gold credit card.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, taking the card.

“And I agree with you that room could use some work. Make sure you sneak in a couple of dollies and maybe a tiara for the little princess too,” she whispered with a wink.

I thanked her and showed her to the door. Then, when I heard her car door shut, I joined Dylan in her fort and kissed her forehead.

Max could have sent me a message. He could have left it in his note before he’d left for work.

But no, he’d sent that woman here to check on me. A sliver of annoyance curled itself around my growing self-doubt, and I scooped up the baby and carried her upstairs.

“Come on, Dylan. After your nap, we’re going to the hit the town for some retail therapy.”