it you want to?”
She squeezes me tighter. “Yes! Thank you, Mommy!”
And okay, maybe that makes it totally worth it—even if I feel like my anxiety level just hit new heights.
8
COLBY
If someone told me a few months ago that I'd be cleaning out my gym to replace it with a little girl's bedroom, I may have actually punched them in the face. The idea is so outlandish, and yet here I am, loading my gym equipment into the back of Griffin's truck.
“Dude, you sure you're good with me taking all this stuff?”
I nod. “I need the room for something more important. And besides, I can always use the gym at the stadium.”
We secure everything in, and he drives away as I go back inside. I take a minute to look at the now empty room. A hint of a smile appears on my face, and I know I'm doing the right thing. Grabbing the cans of paint I bought yesterday, I get to work.
“HEY SPYRO,” I SAY the second I walk through the door. “I need your help.”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
A year ago, Tessa was dealing with a few things and ended up intentionally burning a house down. Granted, the house belonged to someone who fully deserved it and who was dead months before, but still. From that point forward, she became Spyro. And if it wasn't that, it would be Swinger, for making me watch her beat the shit out of her gorgeous Lamborghini with a baseball bat.
“Enough nonsense,” I tell her. “You need to come with me to the store.”
Her brows furrow. “Isn't that what you have a personal stylist for?”
“It's not for clothes. It's for children's bedroom furniture.”
She practically chokes on the water she was drinking. “I'm sorry. What?”
I sigh. “Brenna is sleeping over on Friday, and I want her to have her own room.”
“And that's not something you can handle?”
Man, she's making this hard for me. “Look, I know plenty about women, but I'm fucking clueless when it comes to little girls.”
She chuckles. “And you think I'm not?”
I shrug. “Well, you used to be one, so...”
Honestly, as much as I love Tessa, she wasn't my first choice for this. Lennon would be able to help me design the perfect room, but she left on Sunday and won't be coming back any time soon. Especially not soon enough to help me pick things out.
By the grace of God, she gives in and stands up. “Fine. Just let me get dressed.”
WE WALK THROUGH THE furniture store, being led by a lady who doesn't seem to know her ass from her elbow. Last time I checked, Brenna is like three-foot shit and forty pounds soaking wet. She doesn't need a queen-sized bed unless she has a twin I don't know about. Then again, until a couple weeks ago, I didn't even know about her.
“What about that one?” I ask about a metal bed with a canopy. It looks like something a royal would have.
Tess cringes. “Is she a magical baby from the olden times?”
I snicker and keep walking until we come up to the perfect set. It's all white, with a twin-sized bed, a dresser, and even a little vanity. The whole set just screams Brenna.
“That one,” Tessa and I say in unison.
The sales rep turns to the one we're looking at and smiles. “Ah, yes. That's one of our best sellers.”
I pull open each of the drawers to make sure it's made well. “How soon can you have it delivered?”
“Well,” she says and looks down at her tablet. “We're a little backed up, but I could have it there as soon as Monday.”
Nope, that won't do. “Make it this Thursday, and I'll pay double.”
Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and she nods, suddenly able to move the date up with no issue at all.
I fill out all the paperwork and swipe my card before leaving the store, feeling accomplished. As we're walking to my car, however, Tessa realizes something.
“Hey, did you and Saige tell her that you're her dad yet?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but hopefully soon.”
The whole topic is obviously a sore spot for Saige, and I've been trying not to push my luck. If she ends up not letting me see Brenna because I pissed her off, this is going to get ugly. No one is going to keep us apart now. I'll make sure of that.
“Well, I'm just wondering,”