“Leaving Winnie and Sophia at home was torture. I wanted to be there, with them, but I couldn’t. I had obligations to this place, to the employees, and to those who pay for our services. I needed to be here, rebuilding what was destroyed by that fire, when all I wanted to do was throw in the towel and head home to my family.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat.
“I promise it gets easier, leaving your child, but you couldn’t have left him in more capable hands,” he says, referring to his wife.
“But he’s not… my child.”
Harrison gives me a pointed look, one eyebrow rising on his forehead. “Isn’t he?”
The air in the office is warm and suffocating as I try to tamp down the tears threatening to fall. Harrison doesn’t call me on them, just picks up the pen and starts to sign his name again.
No, Milo isn’t mine… but sometimes, it feels like he is. That warm feeling I get when I think about that sweet baby hits me square in the chest, making my heart gallop and the waterworks fall. The answer to the big question still hangs open. The lab hasn’t sent the results from the swab, and I think it’s starting to take a toll on my emotions. I reach for a Kleenex on the corner of the desk and silently dab at my lower lids.
When he’s done signing, he slides them back my way. I keep my eyes focused on the names on the checks, carefully dividing them by location and stuffing them in individual envelopes. “I’ll take these,” he says, taking two stacks of completed checks, “And Chase can run these,” he finishes, sliding the other pile my way.
“Okay,” I whisper, the single word thick in my throat, grabbing the stack that’s left for our location.
Harrison looks up, his dark eyes soft with understanding. “Take a quick coffee break.”
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I need to call the distributor.”
“Those diapers aren’t going anywhere. Take a break and then make the call,” he says, getting up and taking payroll with him. I do the same, gathering the pile that Chase will run. “You got this, Gabby.”
Then, he does something completely shocking and pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you,” I whisper, sniffling against his All Fit T-shirt.
Before my brother-in-law can reply, a loud, animalist growl fills the room. “You got your own woman, Drake. Get your hands off mine.”
Harrison snorts, but doesn’t let go. “Mind your own business, Callahan,” he teases, knowing he’s ultimately just poking the bear.
“Fuck off,” Chase demands, pulling me from his best friend’s arms and into his own. His familiar scent and embrace washes over me, immediately causing two things to happen. I’m wrapped in comfort and suddenly aroused. Chase notices my tears (or what’s left of them) and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and sniffle. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing is making you cry?” His eyes bore into mine with so much love and affection that it steals my breath.
“I’ve just had a shitty day,” I tell him, tucking my body back against his and pulling him close.
“Ahh, I’m sorry, Gabs. If it makes you feel any better, my day has been shit too,” he whispers, resting his chin on the top of my head and just holding me tight.
“I’m heading to Porter to deliver the payroll. Chase, Gabby has the Dalton checks for you,” Harrison says, heading toward the door. “I’ll drop these off at the front counter,” he adds, referring to the stack that stays in our building.
When we’re left alone, Chase takes a small step back and looks down at me. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“You mean plans other than falling into bed by seven and sleeping for fourteen hours straight?” I ask, knowing there’s no way either of those will happen, not with a baby. But a girl can hope.
He smiles that breathtaking, panty-melting smile. “Yeah, besides that.”
I shake my head. “No, no other plans.”
“Great. Milo and I will pick you up at five thirty.”
My eyebrows shoot for the sky. “What happens at five thirty?”
“Your date begins.”
“A date, huh?”
Chase runs his hand across my forehead, moving stray strands of hair. “A date. Milo and I were talking this morning,” he starts.
“At two thirty?”
“Yeah, then,” he replies with a chuckle. “Anyway, we were discussing the fact that I haven’t been able to take you out on a proper date.”
“We went on a date,” I remind him.
The way his eyes darken, I know he’s remembering that particular night as well. “Yes, but I want to take you to a restaurant. Milo agreed to go with me, you know, as my wingman.”
Now, I’m giggling and the heaviness I felt earlier starts to lift. “He did, did he?”
Chase nods. “He says it’s important that he comes with me to make sure I don’t screw it all up.”