Page 150 of Trusting You
39
Carter
My last week in New York passes by too soon, and Lily’s first birthday is tomorrow.
Locke and I settled into pleasant days when we brought him home. He isn’t 100%, but he’s getting there, especially considering he’s got a new drill sergeant for a roommate.
Much to Locke’s chagrin, I let Asher in on Locke’s physical therapy sessions, and he’s been by every day since basically booting Locke in the ass to get the exercises out.
Three times, Locke’s attempted to lift Lily’s stroller down the stairs when he thinks I’m not looking, or so distracted by filling my Instagram up with my paintings that I won’t see him limping over to her stroller, strapping her in, and creaking through the door.
Each time, I’ve yelled at him. That seems to be the way to get through to Locke—act like a coach, and he’ll act like a player. A real one, not the whore one.
I like this tactic and have employed it often, giving him a shit-eating grin every time he glowers at me, too frail to run away.
We’ve settled, Locke and me. Even discussed my potential return to see Lily next, and when he’ll come to Orlando with her to visit Disney for the first time.
“You have to be there,” he’d said one night while we were on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn. “Her first Minnie encounter? Or—hold the phone—Thumper? You gotta come.”
Luckily, my watery eyes were hidden from the dimness of the room and the horror movie we’d put on that barely contained any light.
“I’d love that,” I said, feeling his study of me despite the dark, and I thought my voice might’ve given me away.
We were happy together, but tentative, ever since the car ride home when he admitted his faults, the worst of himself when all he wanted was to start living with his daughter.
I can’t deny him that. As much as I want to protect Paige’s dignity, I can hear her whispering in my ear, I’m dead, girl. Who cares? Lily was the result. That’s all that matters. Please, forgive him.
And maybe, just maybe, I did.
When he wandered into Lily’s nursery for the first time after coming home, he limped back out, using a cane instead of his hated wheelchair, went to the main closet without a word to me, and fished around until he found what he was looking for.
Locke deigned a glance in my direction as he passed by again. I was using his laptop on the couch. In his free hand, he held a toolbox.
“I’m hanging it,” he said. “And I don’t want to hear anything about how I should take it easy.”
I smiled at his back.
Paige now overlooks her daughter, right above the crib.
“So,” I say to Locke now, cleaning Lily’s breakfast plate while she naps. He’s wiping down her high chair. “Are you going to tell me your plans for Lily’s birthday tomorrow?”
“Nope. I said it was a surprise.”
“Shouldn’t the surprise be for the birthday girl and not her guests?”
Locke smiles. “No other guest is going to be surprised.”
“Why me?”
“Why not you?”
I turn away in mock-disgust. “If you’re combining this into some kind of birthday-slash-good-bye party for me, you’re lame.”
“I’m not,” he says, and he’s come closer. I can feel him at my back, my body tingling at his presence despite my brain’s attempts to argue otherwise. “Promise.”
His whisper comes daringly close to my neck.
I duck away, needing the distance. If I’m to leave tomorrow night as planned, I must maintain our comfortable distance.