Page 64 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

RORY

“ A re you sure you want to go out tonight?” I ask as I lean closer to the mirror and dab on some lip gloss.

After the game, he sent me a text, saying he was picking up dinner.

Instead, he showed up with a little black dress and a reservation at a local restaurant.

Not that I’m complaining. Doing anything with Jaxon and Poppy is a win in my book, but still.

“What if someone sees us together? I mean, I know we have Poppy as a buffer, but it’s a little harder to write off our motives considering this dress.

” I twist the cap back on the makeup and motion to the dress in question.

It's gorgeous and fits me perfectly, highlighting my curves and showing just enough skin to look sexy without making me feel uncomfortable.

Honestly, the choice is evidence of how well the man knows me, and when I tried it on a few minutes ago, my stupid heart pitter-pattered like a lovesick puppy.

Leaning against the doorjamb with Poppy on his hip, Jaxon watches my reflection. “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want takeout or something?”

“In that dress?” His chuckle is low and throaty. “Not even close.” He strides toward me and kisses my cheek, careful not to step on Hades lounging on the tile at my feet. “You look way too good to be hidden in this penthouse.”

“Maybe, but outside of this penthouse is Lockwood Heights and way too many family and friends,” I remind him.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. The question is, are you?”

My brows furrow as the buzzer to the elevator sounds from the front. “Who is it?”

With a shrug, Jaxon stays quiet and moves aside, giving me room to go see for myself. Curious, I stride into the hallway toward the panel near the kitchen, confirming that whoever’s requesting access to the penthouse can come up, since it’s clear Jaxon knows their identity.

Thirty seconds later, the elevator opens.

When I recognize the culprit, my lips part, and my breath stalls.

“Oh.” Hades’ bark cuts through the awkward silence, and I show him my palm.

“Hades, hush.” Leaving less than an inch of space between us, my grumpy beast plops his butt on the ground but doesn’t take his eyes off one of the last people I would’ve expected to see.

I clear my throat. “Uh. Hey, Uncle Mack.” I peek over my shoulder in hopes of Jaxon being close so he can save me from an awkward conversation.

Not that Uncle Mack is awkward. It’s just…

what the hell am I supposed to say if he asks about my outfit?

It’s not exactly my regular nanny attire.

“You look nice,” he says.

I smooth down the front of my dress, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you. Uh, Jax is…”

“Hey, Uncle Mack,” Jaxon greets from behind me. “Thanks for coming.”

With a frown, I glance at Jax. Did he plan this?

“We’ll only be gone for a couple hours,” Jaxon continues.

“I’m not worried. Take your time,” Macklin answers.

Dumbfounded, I turn back to Uncle Mack. Why is he acting like me being in a sexy black dress for an evening out with Jaxon is the norm?

Reading my expression, he smiles. “Don’t worry, Squeaks. I already know.”

“Know?”

Seriously, what is happening?

“Cornered Jax after the game earlier today.” Grinning, Uncle Macklin drops his voice low. “Told him to keep you in the dark as payback. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Secret? How does he know about our secret? I thought we were hiding it well, or at least, relatively well.

Weren’t we?

I want to ask what he’s talking about, but I can’t convince my tongue to work, let alone my vocal cords. Instead, I stand there in stunned silence.

He knows?

He knows.

Shit.

What does this mean? And is Jaxon okay with it?

I mean, he seems okay with it, but making assumptions is the last thing I was raised to do.

What if he’s not okay with it? I don’t know.

I don’t know, but I’m really confused, and if Uncle Mack wanted to knock me off kilter and dish me up some solid payback for keeping him—and the rest of the family—in the dark, he’s nailing it.

The big butthead.

Giving Jax his attention, Macklin claps his meaty hands and reaches for Poppy. “How’s our Pops doin’?”

“She’s good,” Jaxon answers. “Just had a bottle. Should be ready for bed in a few minutes. And don’t mind Hades. He’ll hang outside her bedroom door as soon as you put Pops in her crib.”

“Wait, are you babysitting?” I ask .

“Figured you could use a night off,” Macklin explains.

A night off? Why would I—the nanny —need a night off? Oh, because our secret’s safe with him. Right. How could I forget?

Closing my gaping mouth, I ask, “What if she starts crying?”

“I know how to handle a baby,” he reminds me. “Raised a few of them and everything.”

“Well, yeah, but Poppy…” I cringe as Jaxon hands her off to Macklin and she starts fussing right away.

With a low laugh, Macklin starts shifting on his feet, swaying from side to side as he pats her back softly. He’s completely unbothered and in his element in a way only a good parent can be. “I’m aware Pops has her favorites. Don’t worry. She’ll calm down.”

And maybe she will, but the unproven assumption doesn’t ease my anxiety.

Quite the opposite, in fact. Panic rises in my chest as her bottom lip wobbles.

As her tiny face scrunches and her skin reddens with every squeal of anguish.

I’ve never liked seeing a baby sad, but Poppy?

This is torture. Digging my fingernails into my palms, I challenge, “And if she doesn’t calm down? ”

Mack looks down at the bag hanging by his side that I hadn’t noticed before now.

“Just invested in some noise-canceling headphones, and she’s set to go to sleep in a few minutes.

I’ll be fine. And so will she,” he promises.

“Besides, if she doesn’t calm down in fifteen, I have both your numbers, remember? ”

He gives me a look that somehow rides the line between amusement, confidence, and a sprinkling of patience, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m fighting back on the proposition of a night off or if it’s because he’s channeling his inner monk in hopes of feeding the same energy to the baby in his arms .

Regardless, the man makes a good point. He does have our numbers, and it’s not like we’re going far.

We could be back in ten minutes. Five, if we go somewhere close by.

Even so, Macklin could have a thousand good points, and none of them would ease my growing anxiousness.

I stare at Poppy on his hip. The way she leans away from him.

The way she throws her head back. The way she flails her arms. It’s soul-crushing.

Helpless, I tap my fingers against my outer thigh.

One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. Pause. One, two, three. Pause.

Hades bumps his nose against the side of my knee, snapping me out of my spiral, or at least attempting to.

Turning to Jax, I beg, “Jax.”

“She’ll be okay.” His confidence surprises me, though it probably shouldn’t. He’s Poppy’s dad. He knows her better than anyone. And this isn’t his first rodeo, either. Not when it comes to knowing what’s best for Poppy and what she can and can’t handle.

“Go,” Uncle Mack urges.

On shaky legs, I reach for my purse on the kitchen counter, sliding it onto my shoulder while trying to ignore Poppy’s wails no matter how much it kills me.

Dodging her flapping arms, Jaxon kisses her on the forehead. “Love you, Pops. We’ll be home soon. I promise.”

Tears well in my eyes as I fight the urge to grab Poppy from Mack and never let go, even when I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt more torn in my entire life.

How do parents do this? How do they leave their babies?

How do they shut off the voice inside their head screaming at them to pull them close and never let them go?

But the worst part? The worst part is that I don’t know if it’s my OCD rearing its ugly head or if the instinct is real and shouldn’t be ignored.

And what if it is real and I do ignore it?

I’d never forgive myself. And it’s not that I don’t trust Uncle Macklin.

I do. I trust him as much as I would my own dad, but still. This is…this is torture. And what if?—

A warm hand touches my lower back, and I glance up at Jaxon.

“She’s okay,” he murmurs.

She’s okay.

She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay.

Holding onto his words like they’re a lifeline, I shove my irrational fears aside and lift my quivering hand to drag it over Poppy’s wispy blonde hair before leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Love you, Pops.” A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow past it.

“Like your daddy said, we’ll be…we’ll be home soon, okay? ” Breathe . “I promise.”

Jaxon reaches for my hand, tugging us into the waiting elevator.

Once the door closes behind us, he leans against the rail, and I tuck my arms around me, digging my fingers into my bare skin to keep from giving into my compulsion and tapping against my thigh.

Even then, it doesn’t stop the carousel of thoughts circling through me.

What if they’re on the balcony and Macklin trips and she falls over the edge?

What if she finds something on the ground and chokes on it?

What if he forgets she’s there and trips over her, breaking her or arm or leg?

What if he steps on her head? I know it would be an accident, but?—

Stop!

“I can’t decide if what I just did in there was a mistake or not,” Jaxon announces.

“Hmm?” I look up, finding his attention on me.

He gives me a sad but reassuring smile. “You know I always love taking you on dates, but you look about as excited as a woman on her deathbed. You okay?” He moves closer and brushes a stray tear from my cheek, spreading the moisture between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting it. “I’ll take this as a no. ”

Batting his hand away, I sniffle pathetically. “I just…I hate to see her sad.”