Page 41

Xavier

Panic strikes when I realize I'm alone. It's eerily quiet for the first time in three months. There's no crying baby and there is an empty spot that should be filled with a beautiful brunette.

The sheets are a mess from last night, barely hanging on to my bed. Still gaining my bearings, I yawn, grabbing a pair of shorts and slipping them on before I make my way down the hallway.

Wordlessly, I step over the threshold of my daughter's room and pause. The moment unfolding is too sacred to interrupt. I lift my phone, thankful I grabbed it, just as Holland peeks over Vivienne's shoulder as they sway back-and-forth while Vivienne murmurs sweetly to her in nothing but my shirt.

I snap the picture as she turns her head, kiss-swollen lips from when I woke her in the middle of the night pressing to fine, red, baby hairs.

She spots me out of the corner of her eye and says, "Hate to break it to you, Estrela, but your dad is a bit of a creep."

"And how long have you two been in here conspiring against me?" Stepping up behind my girls, I kiss the crown of Holland's head first, then turn and take Vivienne's mouth with a soft kiss.

She leans against my chest and her contented sigh blankets me. "Conspiring has such a negative connotation. I prefer gabbing. This sweet girl was telling me she wants eggs Benedict for breakfast."

"Is that so? Good taste for a three-month-old."

"Right? You'd think she'd be satisfied with a bottle, but no. Such a refined palate."

"Hmmm. Lucky for her, I know a place. But since Holland can't eat it yet, you could come and help her out. I know you're hungry after last night." The phone in my hands vibrates, and when I drop my eyes to it, there's a barrage of text messages already waiting and more coming through.

Dom:

We need to start an All Star Break tradition.

Hendrix:

I'm not moving up my wedding.

Dom:

Xavier. I need you to do me a solid.

Hendrix:

You can't marry him off for the sake of tradition.

Dom:

He's our only option.

Dean:

Um . . . Hello?

Hendrix:

Something you need to tell me?

Dean:

. . .

Cruz:

Brunch. The tradition can be brunch.

Dean:

Finally, the voice of reason.

Dom:

Weddings are cooler but I guess brunch could work.

Cruz:

Anywhere but Buns I wanted this to be her choice. But maybe her silence is her choice and I'm just not ready to accept that.

Unprepared to face a decision of that magnitude and taint any more of this otherwise perfect morning, I slip my phone into my pocket and take the steps two at a time, finding the one thing guaranteed to make me smile, Holland and Vivienne, playing together on the living room floor like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I want to hold onto these moments--both the tiny baby who's growing too fast and the bond building between them. This time I don't get to take a picture, because Vivi hears my footsteps and lifts her head, still chatting animatedly about Tenley.

"Am I interrupting girl time? We can reschedule brunch if you want me to . . ." I thumb over my shoulder towards the front door.

Vivienne's hearty laugh erases any lingering annoyance from my text with Collin.

"Cute and funny." She's not talking to me, instead keeping her focus on my daughter. "You ready to brunch it up, my girl?"

My girl.

Yeah, I like that.

Logically, I know she doesn't mean it in a permanent way. But hearing Vivienne say it unexpectedly starts to mend cracks in my soul. When everything on our list is checked off, there's a chance I'll be left broken again.

But for now, she's exactly what I need and I know it's the same for her. She told me at the start of this that she was using me, but that's not true. We're willingly giving each other what we need most: friendship--a person who sees us for who we are without trying to change a damn thing.

"Her bag is packed. I hope that's okay. You can double check it." Vivienne rises from where she's sprawled, bringing Holland with her.

This damn girl, always doing more than she needs to. At this point, I'm pretty sure it's a compulsion.

"Vi. You didn't have to do that. I don't need you to manage my life."

"But I wanted to help."

"Wanted to or felt obligated to? There's a difference," I remind her.

She crosses the room, carefully stepping over the baby toys scattered across the floor. "Is this you trying to protect me from myself?"

Shit. Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing. Instead of admitting as much, I ask. "Do I need to?"

"Sometimes," she admits. "But you're one of the few people in my life that's never made me feel like I have to do something. And that's an elite list to be on, so you should feel special."

"Oh, I do," I say, twisting a strand of hair around my finger.

"I packed her diaper bag because I really want that eggs Benedict. And I really want to see my friends . Not because I feel like I need to. You're a capable dad--which I told you earlier. I knew you could and would do it, but it was faster if I did it."

"Okay, then. Just making sure." I release her, turning to grab the bag.

"Hey, Xavier," she says to my back.

I hitch the backpack over my shoulder. "Yeah, sweetheart?" Her vivid green irises double at the casual use of endearment outside the bedroom.

"Thank you for looking out for me. I can be my own worst enemy."

"Aren't we all?" I agree.