heels and slam the door behind me. He is out of control. If he keeps this up, I’m going to have to do something about it.
A few minutes later, I stand outside Em and Sebastian’s apartment, knocking on the door.
A muffled, “Coming,” sounds before Sebastian swings it open. His hair is a mess, his glasses are skewed, and his shirt is half-untucked . . .
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I tell him. “I’ll just go.”
He bursts out laughing. “Lennon, it’s fine. You’re not interrupting. The girls are here,” he says.
“Ohhh,” I mutter. “Okay then.” I step past him and into their apartment where his nieces, Everly and Hazel, look as disheveled as Sebastian does.
“Lemon!” Everly cries when she sees me.
I chuckle. “It’s Len-non,” I remind the five-year-old who thinks she’s hilarious. “How you doin’, squirt? How’s that new baby brother of yours goin’?”
“He’s soo tute,” she says, beaming. “But he poops a lot.”
The smaller of the girls, Hazel, who is two, waddles over to me before wrapping herself around my leg. I pat her on the top of the head, and she giggles.
“She’s not a dog,” Em says. “She wants you to pick her up, not pet her.”
“I don’t hold babies; you know that.”
She rolls her eyes as she gives me a quick hug before picking up the toddler. “What are you doing here? I thought we were hanging out tomorrow night?”
“I just walked in on Bates boning a baseball Annie in the living room.”
“Eww,” Em says, her face scrunching.
I nod. “Yep,” I agree. “Mind if I hang out here until the coast is clear?”
“Of course not. But I’ma need you to share those egg rolls, mm-kay?” she says, eyeing the bag of takeout clutched in my hand.
“Fine,” I grumble, following her to the kitchen. “You’re just lucky I ordered more than I could possibly eat on my own anyway.”
Sooner than I expected, my cell chimes with a text from my boneheaded brother.
BATES: Sorry, Lenny. I’ll make it up to you.
LENNON: You can start by getting me a new couch.
BATES: I’ll have a new one delivered tomorrow. Promise.
I sigh, dropping my cell on the counter as I slide onto a barstool.
“That Bates?” Em asks.
“Yep,” I say, popping the P. “He’s buying me a new couch.”
Em chuckles. “As he should. That’s just nasty. I’m glad he didn’t pull anything like that while I was still there.”
I dig a piece of orange chicken out of my takeout container with a pair of chopsticks as I arch a brow at Em. “Silly, Emmy. He probably did, and we had no idea. You’re just lucky you were already pregnant or you might be carrying a baby Bates right now,” I tease.
She gags. “Gross!”
Laughter bubbles up my throat as her face scrunches in disgust.
A loud, pain-filled cry sounds from the living room, and Em and I rush to see what’s wrong. Everly is in the fetal position on the floor, clutching between her legs, and Hazel sits beside her, rubbing her head.
“What happened?” Em asks, crouching beside Sebastian and Everly.
“Hazel gave me a gina-shiner,” Everly whimpers.
I frown. “What’s that mean?”
Sebastian is clearly fighting against finding this humorous. A smile flits on and off his face, and he clears his throat. “Hazel tripped and headbutted Ever’s vagina,” he says in a rush.
My eyes widen, and suddenly, I’m feeling all kinds of sympathy for the little girl curled up on the floor. I drop beside her and stroke her forehead. “Oh, honey, I know what that feels like.”
Em’s eyes fly to me. “You do?”
I shrug. “Long story,” I tell her then turn my attention back to Everly. Tears shine in her eyes, and she shuffles closer to me. I reach out, slide my hands under her arms, and drag her into my lap. “Do you want an ice pack, squirt?”
She shakes her head as she burrows into my embrace, sniffling. I rub her back. That’s soothing, right? I’ve never been hands-on with kids—not that I’ve had the opportunity to be.
Feeling eyes on me, I glance up and find Em and Sebastian watching me with weird looks on their faces.
“What? Am I doing it wrong?”
Em shakes her head, wetness gathering in her eyes.
“What then?” I ask, panic rising in my veins.
“Go on, tell her,” Sebastian says to Em, curling an arm around her shoulders.
She swallows hard then says, “We want you to be the baby’s godmother.”
I blink at her, my eyes suddenly feeling stingy. “Why would you ask me? I suck with kids,” I say in