promise she won’t bite. Well, she doesn’t have any teeth, so if she does bite, it won’t hurt.”
He doesn’t laugh. In fact, the devastated expression on his stupidly handsome face makes me want to give him a hug.
All of my irritation with him drains away.
He may not be able to help how he feels about this at the moment, but I can lend a hand until he has a handle on things.
Until he doesn’t need me.
For some reason—one I’m not interested in evaluating—that doesn’t make me feel better.
I speak quietly, like I’m talking to a wounded animal. “She needs you, Rider. She doesn’t have anyone else. Not one other person on the face of this planet, and I speak from experience when I say that’s a terrible feeling.” I give him a minute to consider that and then ask again, “Do you want to hold your daughter?”
Finally, our eyes connect, and he blinks. Clears his throat. “Ye—yeah, yeah. I do.”
17
RIDER
According to what Gabby told us about gestation, this baby-making thing takes roughly thirty-seven weeks. That’s nine months and change to get used to the idea of spawning another human being.
I’ve had about ten fucking minutes. Or less than a week if you count when she landed on our doorstep.
Neither of which provide time to come to grips with this kind of situation.
Suddenly, all I can hear are my father’s warnings to wrap it up every time. That it would be the biggest mistake of my life if I knocked up some girl. That I’d regret having a kid so young.
But it feels wrong to say I regret my daughter. At the back of my mind, I wonder if that’s how my mother felt before she took off. If she regretted having me. Judging by the fact I haven’t seen her in three years, it’s a strong possibility.
I shake off those old memories and try to focus on the situation in front of me. Football has taught me how to compartmentalize. How to shove shit into a box so I can keep my head in the game.
But at the thought of how I’m supposed to balance football, school, and a kid, panic sets in.
Damn. I have a child. A living and breathing little person I’m responsible for. How is this possible? Why would the universe give me a baby? The only pet I’ve ever had was a goldfish, which died after a week. I am not a good candidate for parenthood.
Gabby places Poppy in my lap and tells me to hold her firmly. “She can be a little wobbly. Don’t assume anything about her abilities until you see it for yourself. Otherwise she’ll roll off the bed or something equally terrible.”
I nod. “Right. Hold on to her.”
Gabby touches my arm. “Listen, I’m going to give you two a few minutes. I need to go home, but I’ll be back in a bit. I figure you might want to talk about her schedule, and you can ask me any questions, like, I don’t know, a refresher on how to change a diaper?” Her lips tilt up in the first smile she’s directed my way in three years.
“Gabby.” I grab her hand. “Olly was right. You’ve been amazing. I don’t know how to thank you or how I’m going to pay you back for all of this.”
Which reminds me how much money I owe my roommates. For all that baby crap we bought last weekend and those paternity tests. Not to mention the processing fees and express postage.
I haven’t a clue where I’m supposed to get those funds. What is it up to now? A grand? At least. Jesus.
Gabby starts to say something, but hesitates, then squeezes my hand. “I adore your daughter. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
When she stands, I reluctantly release her and watch her leave. I have so much I want to say to her, but right now I’m too fucked up to contemplate where to start.
I look down as Poppy tugs on my shirt. Her big green eyes blink up at me, and I swear my heart skips a beat. Maybe two. For a moment, everything in my head quiets.
Gently, I run a finger over her chubby cheeks. Through a wisp of her curly hair. Over her perfect button nose. She’s a beauty.
“Hey, Poppy. So you’re mine, huh? Sorry, kid. Guess you’re stuck with me now.”
I bounce her on my knees a little the way I saw Bree doing earlier, and she gives me a slobbery smile.