Page 7

Chapter Six

brYSON

T he cry of a tiny banshee broke my concentration, and I dropped my head onto the keyboard in defeat. I'd been struggling to finish this marketing report for two hours. I could feel the row of W's imprinting my forehead when the door opened, and Tucker walked in. He’d been outside on a work call but must have heard her crying.

“Don't worry, I got her!” he called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs, the picture of calm. I sighed, closing my eyes for a second. I needed three of me… and maybe a thousand more hours in the day.

I heard Chloe's cries fade into hiccupping sobs, and I fought the urge to go upstairs and check if everything was under control. I couldn't seem to sit still, obsessively straightening the pens on top the makeshift desk I’d set up in the living room and tapping my foot on the floor. I took a deep breath, trying to find some sense of calm, but everywhere I looked, there was chaos. A stray sock on the floor. A stack of baby clothes haphazardly teetering on the chair. Even the tiny pacifier on the coffee table felt like a personal affront. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten.

Tucker appeared in the doorway, Chloe finally quiet in his arms, looking as untroubled as ever. “She just needed some love,” he said with a grin, bouncing her lightly. Chloe gurgled and grabbed at his hair. I wished I could bottle their tranquility and chug it. I was in a state of perpetual drowning, and they seemed to be riding the current like it was a fun wave.

I forced a smile, trying to brush off the stress as he plopped her onto my lap and walked away. “She's certainly vocal about it,” I replied, glancing at my open laptop, the curser blinking at me like a silent scream.

I held Chloe, her tiny fingers wrapping around mine, and guilt tightened in my chest. Shouldn't I be enjoying this more? I sighed, walking into the kitchen where Tucker was rummaging through cabinets. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” he asked.

“Survival,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. Chloe snuggled against my shoulder, and I couldn't help but smile at the warm weight of her. Maybe if I worked while she napped, and made calls with clients after Tucker took her for a walk, I could catch up.

He laughed, shaking Cheerios into a bowl with abandon. I was surprised he didn't spill half the box on the floor. “What else?”

“Try to squeeze in some work while she naps,” I replied, shifting from foot to foot. I already felt behind, like I was losing a race against time. “You know, the usual chaos.”

“Usual chaos,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe for him, it was. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the weak link in our little trio, and it gnawed at me.

I sat Chloe in her highchair and fished out her baby food, aligning everything neatly on the tray. The table was covered in yesterday's mail and a sea of colorful toys. How could anyone think straight in this mess? I tried to clear some space, shoving a pile of envelopes aside while spooning mushy peaches toward Chloe's mouth.

“Oops,” Tucker said, picking up a dripping Cheerio that had catapulted out of the bowl. I stared at the little ring of milk left behind. Too late for that .

After breakfast, I locked myself in my bedroom for a client call, hoping to get at least one task crossed off my list. But every time I started to concentrate, Chloe would squeal, and Tucker's loud exclamations— “Who's a happy girl?” “Someone needs a diaper change!”—came echoing in, slicing my attention in half.

Lunch was much the same. Tucker juggled Chloe on his hip while slapping together sandwiches and making more of a mess than an actual meal. The kitchen was a war zone of crumbs and spilled juice.

With a clenched jaw, I set to work cleaning up, stacking plates in the sink and wiping counters obsessively until every trace of stickiness was gone. I stood there for a moment, letting exhaustion seep into my bones, feeling like I should be soaking in every precious minute of this chaos instead of drowning in it.

Eventually Chloe went down for a nap, and the house was finally still. I dove back into work, grateful for the brief sense of control. Without interruptions, I blitzed through a couple of projects, relief easing some of the tension in my shoulders. But as soon as I started feeling like maybe—just maybe—I had a grip on things, the cries started again, insistent and demanding. Naptime had flown by.

Tucker must have still been working, so I went to the nursery and picked her up, her tiny body warm against mine. I rocked her back and forth, my heart swelling and breaking at the same time. “Hey, I'm right here,” I whispered, trying to soothe us both.

Tucker appeared after a few minutes, scruffy and smiling. “How's it going?” he asked, tilting his head, unconsciously giving his magazine cover jawline some extra definition.

I wanted to say, “I don't know if I can do this,” but instead I looked at him, as calm as ever, and said, “Think you can take over for a bit?”

He nodded and reached for her, his touch as steady as his voice. “No problem. She's in good hands.” I watched him walk away, feeling a sharp pang in my chest. I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing both Chloe and Brooke.

Several hours later, I stared at the walls, wishing I could block out the world as easily as I could close my bedroom door. A cheerful shriek cut through the quiet, and I jumped, almost sending my coffee cup sailing. I glared at my phone, flashing with more demands from work, and dropped my head in my hands. The report was only halfway done, and I couldn't get past the blinking cursor, the emails, the noise. I wasn’t sure if I was more frustrated with Tucker for making everything seem so easy or myself for feeling so out of control.

I rubbed my eyes and picked up the phone, cradling it between my cheek and shoulder as I scrolled through another spreadsheet. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. My mind drifted as my boss droned on about KPIs and performance metrics. When I was working, I felt guilty for not spending time with Chloe, and when I was with Chloe, I felt guilty for not working. It was a vicious catch twenty-two.

Tuning back into the conversation, I bit back my impatience, trying to sound calm and capable as I interrupted. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll have that to you by tomorrow morning.” The deadline seemed laughable, but I’d figure it out somehow. I had to.

The door cracked open, and Tucker poked his head in. He held Chloe under one arm, a giggling, wiggling bundle, and he mouthed, “Want to take a break and play with us?” before flashing me a grin. He looked completely at ease, and my heart sank at how simple he made it all seem.

“Can’t right now,” I whispered, holding my hand over the mouthpiece and motioning toward my computer in a way that I hoped communicated imminent catastrophe.

He shrugged, a laid-back acknowledgment of my panic, and closed the door without another word. I ended the phone call with my boss and turned back to the spreadsheet, feeling the minutes tick by like a bomb, everything about to explode. If only I could wrap my head around this last section. If only I could finish the proposal without?—

Another loud laugh ricocheted through the walls, and I jumped, nearly knocking my coffee cup onto the floor. How was I supposed to focus when I couldn’t hear myself think? How was I supposed to get any of this done? Everywhere I turned, there was more chaos, more evidence of my inability to handle any of this. Tucker seemed to embrace it all, but I felt like I was slipping further and further behind.

With my frustration mounting, I stormed out of my room and stomped down the stairs. In the living room, Tucker was building a makeshift tower with empty boxes, Chloe on his lap, reaching for the toppling mess with gleeful abandon. He looked up at me as I charged into the room, the smile sliding from his face when he noticed my scowl.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, those piercing blue eyes, full of calm.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice more strained than I wanted. “I need…” my words drifted off as I took in the disastrous sight in front of me. Toys, books, and clothes strewn all around the room, like a tiny cyclone had come through, picked everything up and just tossed it. My head pounded as I felt my blood pressure rise. “You know what? I think I do need a break after all. I need to get out of this house for a while.”

He made a clicking sound with his mouth. “Have you looked outside? It’s been snowing most of the day.”

“I don’t care,” I said, trying to tamp down the hysteria that was building up in my chest. The walls felt like they were closing in on me and I knew if I didn’t do something soon, I was going to snap. “You’re welcome to stay here, if you want, but I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Tucker eyed me cautiously and I wondered if I looked as unhinged as I felt, like a caged animal about to break free. “Okay. We’ll go with you. Just give me a minute to get Chloe’s coat on her.”

I waited until he walked out of the room before releasing my pent-up breath. My hands shook as I reached up and smoothed down my hair. I was glad he’d decided to go with me. I didn’t necessarily want to venture out alone, I just needed to get away. Away from this house and the stress and the chaos that had become my life. I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.

I parked the car in front of the restaurant and looked around. The streets of Lakeside Ridge had transformed into a winter postcard scene while we'd been immersed in the whirlwind of instant parenthood. The sidewalks were lined with old-fashioned lampposts, their warm light casting a golden glow on the freshly fallen snow.

Next door to the restaurant, The Bookworm's Delight beckoned with its golden light spilling onto the sidewalk. Stacks of books lined the windows, their spines creating a colorful mosaic. A handwritten sign in looping cursive advertised an upcoming author visit, promising and signed copies and homemade cookies.

Across the street, Duncan’s Donuts and More sat between a tattoo shop and an insurance company, its bright pink door and cheerful pink and white striped awning standing out boldly amongst the more subtle shops along the street. A rainbow flag blew proudly in the wind, and I made a mental note to stop in there one day.

I watched my breath cloud in the frigid air as we stepped out of the car. “Are you sure about this?” I asked Tucker, who was unbuckling Chloe from her car seat with the determination of a man tackling a formidable task. “We could just order delivery. Babies and restaurants don't typically mix well.”

He scoffed. “Stop worrying. She's fed, changed—correctly this time—and the car ride here already has her half-asleep. Besides,” he added, glancing at me with those cobalt blue eyes that had a tendency to make my heart stutter, “if we don't get out of that house, one of us is going to start screaming louder than Chloe.”

I couldn't argue with that logic. Grief, lack of sleep, and the stress of learning to care for a baby had begun to take its toll, though Tucker wore his exhaustion with the same easy grace he applied to everything. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his thick head of hair catching snowflakes that melted almost instantly, and despite the dark circles around his eyes, he looked unfairly attractive.

“Fine,” I conceded, reaching into the back to grab the diaper bag. “But if she starts crying, we leave immediately.”

“Deal.” He grinned, that kilowatt smile that made him look like he'd stepped off a magazine cover rather than survived a tumultuous day with an infant. “Now come on—I'm starving enough to eat a moose.”

Lucky's Bar my throat tight with emotion. “Yeah, they did.”