Her Dad’s Best Friend novel Chapter 81

"Poor baby," I say.

"Can I help you with anything?" he says, looking at my luggage.

"My dad said last night that he wanted me to live with you while he was gone."

"He's leaving today, then?"

"Didn't you guys talk about this last night?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't set in stone."

"Dad is already gone. He went out on the first flight this morning," I tell Jeff.

"Damn," he says. "What's wrong?"

"With your dad in the air, today's going to be more hectic than usual. I'll probably go to the office."

"It's going to be fine. Danny and I will be okay."

There's a hint of worry in his eyes. I don't know if Danny has genuinely gotten sick before today. Colic, yeah, but that's not really a disease.

"I'll call you if we need you. Where's the pediatrician's number?"

"I'll write it on the big whiteboard." In his kitchen, there's a giant whiteboard with a ton of magnets. His dead wife must have put it there. It's utterly practical. He walks to it and writes down a phone number he must know by heart. It strikes me then how scary it would be to have my first child alone, something having a ton of money can't erase.

"Get dressed and shave," I say firmly. "Danny will be fine."

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I hope so." He walks away and up the stairs. I shove my stuff into the guest bedroom downstairs before going to see Danny. Danny's room smells like vomit, even though Jeff already cleaned up the evidence. Danny is restlessly moving around even though he's asleep. I'm prepared for him to throw up again. I go to the thermostat and turn it off. I open up the windows to let out the gross smell. I can hear the shower running as Jeff gets ready for work.

I yank out my phone and start looking up what to do if a baby has a cold. Apparently fevers are okay as long as they are under 101 degrees. I tilt the mattress under the baby so that he's a little elevated. His little face is screwed up like he's about to start crying in his sleep.

"Poor little guy," I say, pulling him into my arms.

As expected, Danny begins to cry. The volume increases exponentially, but I'm used to it now.

"I know you're sick, little buddy," I say, patting his back. "I wonder if your daddy has fed you yet?" "No," Jeff says.

When I turn around, I have to swallow really hard.

Jeff is only wearing a towel around his waist. He obviously didn't take time to dry off when he got out of the shower, because there's water dripping everywhere. He looks like a female fantasy come to life.

"Danny is fine," I say. "You're getting the floor wet."

He looks down at the wet imprints his feet have left on the carpet and walks away, giving my heart a little space to slow down. Holy shit. He looks fine as hell. He has a six pack that doesn't have an ounce of anything extra on it.