“Mind keeping an eye on her while I go get a bottle?” I asked when I saw how Javi’s attention had zoned in on my daughter, the quirk at the corner of his lips ridiculously cute. He winked at me as if to say “busted.”
“S-sure,” he said.
Inside the house, I watched him through the window while I shook up a bottle of formula. He was making faces and Giuliana was clearly loving it, having forgotten her demanding tummy in light of Javi’s engaging presence. It was picture perfect, and I realized as I watched them that I could maybe actually have this: Someone who was great with my daughter, who was willing to help in an emergency, who was smart and dependable. If I could just stop shutting down my heart, demanding all or nothing from it, Javi and I could be something for real.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I looked at the text, I almost threw my phone across the room. It was Kyle. Seeing his name on my phone set off every alarm in my head, and I might even have growled.
Kyle: In town. Can I see you?
So fucking casual. As if we could just grab coffee and catch up. As if I could ignore his walking out on our whole life and the baby we’d chosen to have together. Outside, Javi was lifting a rapturously happy Giuliana in the air, both of them clearly in delight with the other.
That should have been Kyle. He should be out there. He should have been here for the constant night feedings, for her poop blow-outs, for her first hospital trip, her first smile.
And he wasn’t.
I typed out: Fuck off.
It felt good to hit send. I didn’t owe him my time or my kindness.
As soon as the phone was tucked into my back pocket, I headed back outside. After all, I had two people who I actually wanted to spend time with outside, waiting for me.
14
Javi
“Let me show you what I’ve done. All the logistics are finished on my end, I just need you to let the center know. Maybe see if they want to go in on advertising the event with us.” Reagan looked pleased as punch as he pulled out his laptop and started showing me what he’d worked on. He was the brains and the heart behind Get Ink’d, and I knew that he’d be able to take my idea and start running with it.
“You were right about palm-sized tattoos. It’s enough of a tat to get people interested but won’t take us too long to ink,” he said. “So we make a bunch of flash that’s new for folks to choose from. Then just hammer away for a full day, dawn until dusk, working in shifts. All the money will be donated to the center.”
I rubbed absentmindedly at my chest, palm pressed right above the shield. “All is too much. Just a portion is plenty. Fifty percent of proceeds from s-something like that would still be a huge b-benefit to the center.”
“Javi,” Reagan said, putting his pen down. “The center is important to you, and we do great business here. We’re getting more and more hits on social media, and you know as well as I do that with the exception of the hours we leave open for walk-ins, we’re getting booked out for months. Soon you’ll have a year-long waitlist if things keep going the way they have. One day of proceeds isn’t hurting us, and it sounds like it would do a hell of a lot of good for you.”
I stopped rubbing my chest and stared at him. His red hair was crazy and he was growing a beard that I didn’t think was his best look, but damned if he wasn’t the finest specimen of human I knew at that moment. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me—it’s your name that’s going to fill all the slots. That chest piece you finished a couple months back got a ton of traction on Instagram.”
It had been a good piece. I’d do a hundred more if it meant making Reagan happy, because this was such an enormous favor. I couldn’t wait to tell Mike, who’d probably shit his pants.
And Gordo, too. Not just because I’d need his help with creating promotional materials, but because we’d been seeing enough of each other lately for me to tentatively say he was a friend. A good friend, even. I’d spent a few weeks waiting for him to turn cold