“I need to go out of town and can’t take her with me. If you can’t take her, I’ll leave her with a friend.”
Without a second thought, he reached for Petal. “Sure, I got her,” he said, his heart melting as he looked down at her sweet face. It had been less than a week since he had seen her, but she had already filled out so much. He bounced her in his arms gently and tried his best to calm her.
“Okay. One second.” Amanda went to her car and pulled out several bags and returned, dropping them to the hallway. “Diapers and stuff are in the red bag, clothes in the brown one. Formula and bottles are in the plastic backpack. You need to sterilize them before you use them and you’ll need to buy a car seat. I put my cell number in the diaper bag.”
Amanda turned to head back to her car.
“Amanda, wait.”
She stopped. “What? I’m in a hurry.”
Dred grabbed Lennon’s scarf from his hook and wrapped Petal in it. “I appreciate the chance to spend time with her, but why now? What changed?”
“Nothing changed. Don’t think it’s going to be like this all the time.”
“When are you coming back for Petal?”
“Tomorrow sometime.” With that, she hurried down the path, got in her car, and drove away.
Dred looked around at the mess by his feet and the small baby in his arms, the enormity of what just happened hitting him in the stomach. How the hell do you sterilize a bottle? And where do you buy a car seat?
Lennon ran into the hallway, his face ashen. “I thought I heard a baby scream.” He stopped a few feet shy of them.
Nikan followed Lennon. “So this is Petal?” he asked, stepping around Dred to pick up all the bags and close the door.
“Yeah,” Dred said, a lump in his throat. “This is my daughter. I guess that makes her your niece.”
Elliott joined them. “Holy shit, she’s got pipes like her old man.”
Dred looked down at the scrunched-up little face, all red and wrinkled.
“Can I?” Jordan gestured for the baby. Dred carefully transferred her into Jordan’s arms.
Jordan began to sing. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner . . .” The haunted lyrics to “Under the Bridge” had always left him in pieces. But seeing Jordan sing it to his daughter ripped out his insides and put them through a shredder.
There was no way she would ever feel the kind of loneliness he had.
He’d make sure of that with every fucking breath in his body.
*
Pixie closed the internet browser and leaned back in her chair. There had to be an explanation of why Dred looked so cozy with that Brazilian supermodel. He’d warned her that the paparazzi had an incredible knack of capturing the most innocent moment in a way that made it look sordid and cheap. There was no need for her to worry. Right?
He was a rock star and he was bound to meet beautiful women wherever he went. Worse, he was likely used to those women throwing their perky D-cups is his face.
Pixie stood and walked to the condo’s balcony doors. She needed to show Dred she could deal with it while convincing herself that she wasn’t merely being na?ve. The sky was an unusual mix of thunderous gray and deep purple. The air hung heavy with anticipation of the storm the forecast had promised. It reflected her mood.
She pulled out her phone and looked at the photos Dred had sent her over the past two days. What kind of mother dropped her child off with someone saying they’d be back the next day, only to remain conveniently out of touch for seventy-two hours?
A photo of Petal asleep on Jordan’s chest. Petal lying on a giant play mat with little animals dangling overhead. A picture of a bottle sterilizer with the message What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?
And the funniest one was Lennon, Nikan, and Elliott, each standing behind a different shopping cart packed to the brim with stuff, and Jordan stood in front of them holding Petal. The accompanying text said This is what $3,567.84 buys at Toys R Us . . . the rest is being delivered . . . Petal 1: Daddy 0
Her favorite was a picture of Dred and Petal. It was taken from the side and Petal was asleep on his shoulder. Dred looked straight at the camera and the look on his face was the closest she had ever seen to contentment.
This man wouldn’t cheat on her, she was certain, but somehow the tacky article had gotten under her skin, and not in a good way.
The buzzer to the condo sounded. Pixie walked to the door and checked herself out in the mirror. She’d dressed deliberately to face him. Her face was wiped clean of makeup. She was wearing a pair of nondescript boyfriend jeans and a washed-out gray hoodie that had a small hole under the arm. And her purple hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, making it impossible for him to grip the small hairs and the base of her neck. Yeah, she was dressed to meet Arnie.