Tequila Rose (Tequila Rose #1) - Willow Winters Page 0,26
in a breath. “I can’t help her and I don’t know why she’s crying. I have no idea.”
“You’re a good mom.” Robert makes the statement as if it’s fact. “The bad moms don’t even wonder if they’re doing a good job.” No one’s ever told me that. No one’s told me I’m a good mom and I nearly burst into tears again, matching my little girl who’s still screaming in my ear.
“She won’t stop and I don’t know what’s wrong.” My words come out like a plea. I would give anything if she’d just stop crying.
“Sometimes they cry. I’m pretty sure it’s like a baby’s checklist,” he tries to joke and I would roll my eyes but something magical happens.
Bridget seems to take an interest in Robert when he talks. Her cry is hesitant and he picks up a piece of paper, waving it in front of her face. Mimicking a child’s voice, he says, “I heard that wittle babies like a wittle wind in their wittle faces.”
I let out a laugh, but more than that, a breath of relief. Bridget’s head falls back and she shuts her eyes, letting the breeze blow against her face.
Breathlessly, I beg Robert, “Don’t stop.”
He laughs and continues to wave the paper just above her little three-month-old noggin. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again,” he says with a handsome smile.
I let out a small laugh, continuing to bounce my baby girl and I’m grateful for the quiet. Is it that simple? Just a little wind in her face. Probably not, I think. Tomorrow’s another day, but it’ll pass. It won’t be like this for long.
“It’s just a phase,” I say, reminding myself of what the doctor said.
“And you’re a good mom,” Robert adds. With a small smile, I meet his kind gaze. “I mean it, Mags. You’re doing such a wonderful job.”
I wish we could go back. I wish I could change so much. But more than that, I wish I could have him tell me that every time I feel like I’m failing her. I just want to be a good mom to my Bridget. And I wish Robert would stay, but he doesn’t.
Present day
“I don’t want to influence you.” As she speaks, Renee has both of her hands up, doing her best impression of a bank teller during a robbery.
I could huff and puff and roll my eyes but instead I’m deflated, and my energy levels are nowhere close to being where they should be. It’s not every day you have to break news to someone like I have to. Hey, it’s been a few years since we spent fewer than twenty-four hours together … By the way, my little girl may be biologically related to you. Surprise!
“Can’t I just leave him a note?” I half joke, lifting my gaze to the computer screen which should be showing ticket sales for the gallery exhibit but instead it shows social media sites for Brody Paine. A picture of him seated in a foldout chair on the sand of some beach on the East Coast three years ago stares back at me. His tanned skin and cocky smirk light a fire inside me I’ve been doing my best to smother. “Dear Brody,” I say to begin my best impression of reading a nonexistent letter aloud, even holding up the imaginary piece of paper as if I can see it. “You’re a father. I should have told you sooner but I couldn’t find you after I bailed college to come home to a scandal that ruined my name and made my life hell. I’ve only just now found my place in this life, but congratulations, you’re a dad. At least I’m pretty sure, since her eyes look just like yours.”
Renee stifles a laugh with the cuffs of the sleeves to her favorite navy blue zip-up hoodie that boasts a heart in the upper right corner along with the words, “How about no?” With her leggings and gray tank underneath, I know she’s wanting to go on her run. She does that, all the working out and physical things. I, however, have a three-year-old. If I’m running, it’s because I’m chasing my little girl who probably stole a Sharpie off my desk.
“If you want to tell him, tell him.” Renee shrugs and a more serious tone takes over. “If you want to give him a note, do that.”
“What if I don’t want to do either?”
“You don’t want to tell him at all?” Renee’s expression