“He’s not your responsibility.”
I jerked my gaze to her. “This has nothing to do with obligation. He’s my buddy. I missed him today.”
She took a step back at the venom in my voice.
“Court not go well today?”
“Not great. But I won.”
“What happened?”
“I was distracted. Somebody else’s shit didn’t seem so important when I’m a dad now.”
Her face softened, and she opened the door a little wider. “He’s in the kitchen.”
“I thought he was asleep,” I said as I moved inside.
She shrugged with zero remorse for fibbing. I charged down the narrow hall, this sense of relief washing over me as soon as my eyes landed on Blake in his chair.
“Hey.” I closed my eyes, held him close. “I didn’t do too good without my partner today.”
“How. Ass.”
I laughed. “Not you too. I know your mom thinks I am, but I thought you and me were pals.”
Marlow leaned against the doorframe, arms over her stomach.
“I think Mommy wants a kiss. Then you and I have things to discuss. Guy stuff.”
I pressed my finger to her soft skin. Blake kissed her cheek. I did the same.
“Any chance you’re cooking dinner?” I beamed at her.
She slapped my arm. “That’s why you’re really here.”
“Maybe.”
I sauntered back down the hall toward the living room. I wandered along the edges, studying the life she’d had with Jack. They’d been married about ten years before she was pregnant with Blake, but how much of that time had he been present? How much had he lived on the other side of the world on missions? From the bits and pieces I’d gathered from Andrew and witnessed myself, it was a lot.
I shouldn’t feel anger toward Jack Linley, but it was hard not to when Marlow did. Probably for different reasons. But she’d loved him. Still did.
I touched a wooden frame. Wicked had ridden a Ferris wheel? Eaten cotton candy? Her face was coated with the sticky stuff in the photo. There was nothing but utter and magnificent joy in her expression. That smile. It was hard to believe that was Marlow. I’d never once seen her laugh like that.
Fuck. I couldn’t compete with this guy. Not when she still loved him, wished he was here.
What was I doing? Trying to take his family? Take his place?
“Little dude, you know I love you, but I’m not not sure I know how to stand in for another man. To be . . . your dad.” I looked down into his cherub-like face. He was sweet. Fun. Like Marlow in that photo. What would our baby look like? Would it be obvious they were siblings? “Gonna do my best, but I don’t want to be a substitute. You want me here, it’s gotta be for me.”
“Love.”
My lips parted. “What did you say?”
“Love,” he repeated.
“Wicked,” I shouted, rushing back toward the kitchen.
She met me halfway, panicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Say it again, buddy.”
He grinned at me. “How.”
“No, not that one.”
“How.”
“What are you doing, Patrick?”
“He said another word. I wanted you to hear.”
“What is it?”
I blinked at her. “I’d rather he said it.”
“It’s not—” she mouthed F-U-C-K.
“Of course not. I’d never teach him such filthy language.”
“You taught him a word?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah. I said it, and he repeated.” My chest puffed out. “Come on, Blake. Say it for Mommy and Pumpkin.”
“Who’s Pumpkin?”
I placed a hand on her stomach. “Our baby.” I kissed Blake’s head. “You’re gonna be the best big brother ever.”
“How,” he shouted.
“You can’t say stuff like that,” she whispered.
“Why not? It’s true.” I gently pushed in Blake’s nose. “You two will give us lots of trouble. But you’ll like hanging out with Daddy every day, won’t you?”
“How.”
“That’s right, buddy. How.”
“Excuse me.” Marlow ran up the stairs.
I chased after her. “Are you sick?” She slammed the bathroom door in my face. The lock clicked. “If you’re in there throwing up, I will kick this door down.”
“Go away,” she shouted.
I banged my fist on the wood, Blake doing his best to imitate me. “Let us in.”
No answer. I tried the doorknob despite knowing damn well it was locked.
“Wicked,” I softened my tone. “You’re scaring us.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded watery.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” she said, followed by a loud sniffle.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Prove it to me.”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care,” she choked out between sobs.
“Love.”
I fist bumped Blake. Perfect timing, little dude.
The doorknob turned. Marlow’s splotchy face appeared. “What did he say?”
I grinned. “Told you I taught him a new word. A good one.”
She swiped at her eyes. “What did you say, baby?”
“Love.”
She dropped her forehead to his. “I love you too.”
I cupped the back of her neck and kissed her hair. “Don’t shut me out, Wicked. This will never work if you do.”
“I can’t let you in,” she said hoarsely. “I just can’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“He promised the same thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Marlow
“Where are we going?”
I struggled to keep up with Patrick in my heels.
“How was your day?” He slowed his pace, pushing Blake in the stroller.
“We aren’t starting the vacation now?”
“Would it be so bad if we were?”
“What about more clothes?”
He waggled his brows. “What if you don’t need any?”
“Is that all you think about?”
“What’s the worst that could happen? Shouldn’t we have a little fun?”
I pressed my lips together. “This is your fault.” His expression was smug when he looked at me. “Didn’t take you long to get over the initial shock,” I muttered.
“I’m finding I like my new role.” He puffed his chest out.
“You don’t even want kids.”
“Now that I have them—” His phone chimed. He checked it and frowned. “Change of plan.”
“Patrick Whitley, if you made me put on these shoes—”
“I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to wear them. For me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“This is not a date.”
He hailed a cab.
“Of course it’s not. That would entail at least one of us liking the other. We both know that’s not the case.” He held open the back door for me and I slid inside.
“We’re going back the way we came from. Did
