Page 57 of Trusting You

She rips it from my hands and shoves a fluffy ear into her mouth, staring at me with beguile. I can’t help but stroke a chubby cheek as she chomps.

Wallowing over my absence from Lily’s daily life does Locke a disservice. He more than tolerates me, maybe even likes me. There’s nothing to indicate he’ll keep Lily from me after…whatever this is…is finished and I go back to Florida.

And this is exactly what I’m resolving on the way back to Locke’s place.

There has to be stated terms, lines drawn. We can’t keep living in this fantasy where he’s the dad, and I’m the pretend mom and Lily is happy with us both by her side.

For my sake, there has to be a finite end to this masquerade.

“You’ll always be my heart,” I say to the top of Lily’s head as we stop at the door.

I buzz up to the apartment, and instead of hearing the answering zzzzzz to tell me the door’s open, there’s silence.

Could Locke have fallen asleep? I try again.

The door bursts open when I lift my finger to attempt a third time.

“Locke!” I say once a face appears.

His cheeks are red from exertion—or, more likely, contained pain—and he gestures for me to get out of the way so he can handle the stroller.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I say to him.

“I’m just fine.”

“I’m no doctor, but all you’re doing is ruining whatever work was done to repair your leg in the first place.”

“Goddamn, you people,” he grunts as he lifts. “Let me be the judge of it for once.”

“Don’t lump me in with your friends, whom I don’t even know,” I say as I follow him inside. Before he can yell at me, I’m lifting some weight off him, and we’re climbing the stairs together. “Though they’re right.”

He doesn’t respond and is probably ignoring me, the way I’ve noticed he deals with most issues he doesn’t like, and when we make it inside his apartment, I’m instantly sidelined by the smell.

“You cooked?” I ask.

“Yes, I cook,” he says. He’s already unstrapped Lily and is carrying her to the kitchen. While limping.

I walk up to him and lift Lily out of his arms. He’s annoyed but allows me to do it.

Keeping Lily safely away from any escaping steam, I lift the lid of the pot on the stove with my free hand.

“Pasta with red sauce,” Locke says, and I realize he’s peering over my shoulder, so close I can almost smell him over the scent of garlic and onion. “Also known as the only thing I can cook successfully.”

“It smells delicious.” I step away, but not because the food isn’t enticing. Because he is. “But I would’ve been happy to whip up something. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“I’m aware. You like to pay your way. But I wanted to do something to make up for my attitude earlier.”

I incline my head. “Is this apologetic pasta?”

Locke’s lips do a down curve.

I can’t help but breathe out a small laugh. “I guess it is.”

“Yes,” he says. Begrudgingly. “Sometimes, I let other people’s opinions get to me too much.”

Lily wriggles out of my hold. When she goes to open one of the bottom cabinets, I move to stop her, but notice Locke has already baby-proofed them. When I glance at him, he’s back to his arrogant smirk.

“Didn’t trust me to hide the knives, huh?”