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  I go back to my workout, but after a couple of sets of pull ups, I wonder how Audrey’s doing. I head to the daycare and look through the window again. They have her on a blanket on the floor. One corner of my mouth turns up a little. She’s so good at sitting up on her own now.

  But she’s just sitting there.

  “Hey,” I say to the girl at the front desk. “Someone should give Audrey her taggy blanket. She likes the texture. It’s in her diaper bag.”

  She glances back. “Oh, okay. Um, I think she’s fine, though.”

  I stand there for a second, my hands on my hips, my eyes moving from the girl to Audrey. She does seem okay; she’s watching a couple of toddlers. But if she gets bored, she doesn’t have anything to play with.

  “Taggy blanket. It’s in the diaper bag.” I turn around and go back to the weights.

  About ten minutes later, I’m thinking about my girl again. Is she okay in there? I look through the daycare window and at first, I don’t see her. Where the fuck is my kid?

  I’m about two seconds away from losing it when I spot her. She’s on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor, chewing on a blue plastic ring. Someone must have moved her; she’s not crawling yet. But what does she have in her mouth? That’s not one of her toys. What the hell? It’s probably dirty. I don’t want her trading slobber with some other little cretin.

  Fuck this. I’m out.

  I run to the locker room so I can change back into my dark gray Henley and slacks. At the daycare, I hand the card they gave me to the girl at the front. “Audrey Reid.”

  “Done already?” the girl asks, giving me a cheerful smile.

  I don’t smile back. “Yeah. Baby, please.”

  “Okay.” She goes into the back and comes out with Audrey and our diaper bag. I grab Audrey first and then take the bag.

  “Bye, Audrey,” she says in a singsong voice.

  We head back to the car and I get her strapped in. I have a patient to check on at the hospital, but I wonder if I should take Audrey home and feed her first. Or does she need a nap? I wonder what Kendra would do. I look at her for a second and she chews on her fingers, getting drool on her chin.

  I’m not usually so indecisive.

  “Okay, Peanut. Daddy has to do a little work today. Shouldn’t take too long.” I kiss her forehead, hoping I’m making the right call.

  My patient is a post-mastectomy reconstruction that I performed yesterday. Surgery went beautifully. Strictly speaking, I don’t have to go in, but I want to check on how she’s doing.

  At the hospital, I find a spot in the physicians’ area of the parking garage. I get Audrey situated in the baby sling Kendra got me. It’s black and goes over one shoulder, making a pouch where Audrey can sit in front. I could carry her around like this all day, and if she gets sleepy, it’s easy for her to snuggle in and nap.

  My patient is up on the third floor. We get out of the elevator and I absently rub Audrey’s little hand while we walk through the corridor. It seems like everyone we pass stops and stares—the women, anyway. I don’t know what the hell they’re looking at. I’m pretty sure they’ve all seen a baby before.

  A woman in blue scrubs comes toward me. “Oh, Dr. Reid.” She reaches out to touch Audrey. “She is so precious.”

  I angle myself away so she can’t get her hands on my baby. I don’t like it when other people touch her. “Thanks.”

  She pulls her hand back and I walk past her toward my patient’s room.

  “Hi Dr. Reid.” Christy McCormick, my patient, smiles at me from her bed.

  I come into the room and log in at the workstation. “How’s your pain today?”

  “I feel okay,” she says. “Sore, but it’s not unbearable.”

  “Good. You’ve been out of bed?”

  “Yeah, the nurse had me up twice today,” she says. “It actually felt good to walk around.”

  I nod and check a few more things in her chart.

  “Is this your daughter?” she asks.

  “Sure is.”

  Audrey bangs her hand on the counter and makes some bubbly noises while I check over Christy’s chart.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  I glance over at Christy and crack a smile. You bet your ass my daughter is beautiful. “Thanks. She looks like my wife.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Christy says. “I’m glad you brought her with you.”

  “Looks like you’re doing fine,” I say. “I expect you’ll be ready for discharge tomorrow.”

  “Okay, thank you,” she says.

  A nurse in blue scrubs comes in. She stops in front of me and her eyes move from my face, down to Audrey, then back up again.

  “Wow,” she says, under her breath. “I never knew a baby sling could be so hot.”

  “They’re not.” What is with the women in this place?

  She blinks at me, her face flushing. “Oh. Sorry. Hi, Dr. Reid.”

  “Looks like the patient is doing fine, but page me if anything changes,” I say.

  “Of course,” she says, still staring at me.

  I raise my eyebrows and glance between Christy and the nurse. “Okay, then.”

  Audrey babbles as I walk out into the corridor and I fiddle with her little fingers again.

  A man walks down the hall toward me and I stop in my tracks. It’s my father.

  Considering he’s the head of surgery here, I don’t see him very often. But only about ten percent of my patients come to this hospital. I’ve only spoken to him a handful of times since I severed ties with my former partner, Ian. My dad lost a lot of money when I left Ian’s practice, and I doubt he’ll ever forgive me for that.

  He knows I got married, but as I glance down at Audrey, I realize he probably doesn’t know Kendra and I had a baby.

  Huh. This should be interesting.

  “Weston,” he says, and the lines in his forehead deepen as he looks me up and down. “What is that?”

  “She,” I say, emphasizing the word, “is my daughter.”

  “Does she belong to that woman you married, or someone else?” he asks.

  A knot of anger forms in my gut. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “A reasonable one,” he says. “A friend of mine is a family law attorney. If you get into trouble with child support issues, let me know.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I say under my breath. “I’m not you, Dad.”

  “I didn’t father any illegitimate children,” he says. “I did the smart thing and had a vasectomy right after you were born.”

  I stare at him for a second and the hot flash of anger I always feel when I see him dissipates. He really has no idea what he missed. My entire childhood, I was ignored by him at best—treated like a burden at worst. I’ll never understand how a man could have a child and not see the miracle of it. How he could be so wrapped up in his own bullshit, he failed at the most important job he ever had.

  Looking at him now, feeling my baby girl’s hand wrapped around my finger, I realize something. I’m not angry at him anymore. I feel sorry for him.

  When I fell in love with Kendra, I fell hard. Before her, I hadn’t experienced real love—at least, not since my mother was alive—and it was both addictive and life-changing. Now that we have Audrey, those two are my entire world. Loving them makes my life worth living.

  What does my father have? A dead wife he didn’t care about? A long string of girlfriends who never meant anything to him? He has money, I suppose. For all the good it does him.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I say. “You’re missing out.”

  He furrows his brow. “Missing out on what?”

  I kiss the top of Audrey’s head. “Everything.”

  I don’t bother to say goodbye as I walk away. There’s nothing I can do to change my father. He’ll probably never realize what an idiot he is. He has a beautiful granddaughter, and he’s not going to be a part of her life.

  Poor bastard.

  I head home with my baby
girl. Maybe I won’t always know what she needs or how to best take care of her. I’ll probably make mistakes. But is there anything more important for me to do than love her?

  Even an asshole like me can do that—and do it well.

  When she starts to cry while we’re stuck in traffic, I don’t let it get to me. I reach back to stroke her head and talk to her in a soothing voice. I know she’ll be fine. There’s no way I’m going to fail at this dad thing.

  We get home and she’s still fussy. I cradle her in my arms and feed her one of the bottles Kendra left for her. She falls asleep and I hold her for a while. Even as little as she is—she takes after Kendra, so she’s petite—my arm eventually gets tired. I put her down in her crib so she can finish her nap.

  We’re at home for the rest of the day. She wakes up and I feed her again. I play with her on the floor for a while, then put her in the little bouncy saucer thing. She slobbers all over the toys. I give her some solid food for dinner and I think she wears more of it than she eats.

  That’s a problem easily solved by a bath. When she’s clean and dry, I walk around with her for a while, smelling her hair. Soon it’s time for another bottle and her sleepy little eyes close.

  We’re on the couch, so I stretch out and carefully move her so she’s lying with her head on my chest. I could get up and put her in her crib, but I’m enjoying the feel of her warm weight on top of me.

  Kendra’s hand on my shoulder and her voice whispering my name wakes me.

  “Hey.” She strokes Audrey’s hair.

  “Hey.” I didn’t realize I fell asleep. Audrey is still sleeping soundly on my chest. “Did you just get home?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’ve been sitting here watching you sleep for the last few minutes. You two are so adorable, I thought I might die. How was your day?”

  “It was good. How was the conference?”

  “A lot of fun,” she says. “I missed you, but I’m glad I went.”

  She smiles and I reach out to draw her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft, and I enjoy the familiarity of her mouth against mine.

  “I love you, Kendra.”

  “I love you too.” She gently lifts our daughter and cradles her in her arms. “I’ll get her to bed.”

  With Audrey settled, Kendra and I undress and get into bed. I pull her against me and hold her close.

  “Thank you.” I kiss her forehead.

  “For what?” she asks.

  “For you, and Audrey. For this.”

  She tightens her arms around me. “Thank you.”

  And that’s the thing, isn’t it? This thing Kendra and I have, it goes both ways. I’d do anything—sacrifice anything—for my girls. My wife would do the same for me.

  There’s really nothing better.

  A few hours later, we wake up to the sound of Audrey crying. I roll over and kiss Kendra’s forehead.

  “Go back to sleep, baby,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

  Want to read more about the Lawson family? Sign up for my newsletter to get Her Best Friend, a short story about Caleb’s daughter, Charlotte.

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  Keep reading for a preview of Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance.

  Her Best Friend

  Sign up for Claire Kingsley’s newsletter and get Her Best Friend, a short story about Caleb’s daughter Charlotte, for FREE.

  Noah Douglas and Charlotte Lawson have been best friends since first grade. Noah had a hard time relating to other kids, and Charlotte was painfully shy. But once they found each other, they were inseparable.

  Now sixteen, Noah is starting to see Charlotte through new eyes. Maybe it’s just a crush. Charlotte is talented, fun, and pretty. What guy wouldn’t be attracted to her?

  But the threat of someone else dating his best friend brings out deeper feelings Noah didn’t realize he had. Can he risk telling her how he feels? Or are they better off as friends?

  Her Best Friend is the sweet-as-sugar love story of Caleb Lawson’s daughter, Charlotte, and her friend Noah, who meet as children in Hot Single Dad. It’s a short story of approximately 6,000 words and is meant to be read after Hot Single Dad.

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  Turn the page for a preview of Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance.

  Always Have: Chapter 1

  Kylie

  Ten minutes to midnight, and I have no idea where my date is.

  That’s the problem with letting your best friend set you up with someone for a New Year’s Eve party. It’s such a date sort of holiday, with all the pressure to have someone to kiss at midnight. I’m surrounded by couples—drinking, talking, kissing, slipping hands in naughty places when they think no one is looking—but I’m leaning against the kitchen island at my best friend Selene’s house, looking like an idiot as I comb the party for … what was his name?

  Steven. Right, it’s Steven.

  Things started off well enough. He showed up looking nice in a blue sweater and jeans. Clean-cut, smooth jaw. All in all, not a bad looking guy. I’m rocking a black mini-dress and a pair of fantastic red heels—because why not, it’s a holiday, and my red heels are hot. I wore my dark hair down and wavy, which makes me feel sexy, and I think I’ve finally perfected that smoky eye thing without making myself look like I got punched in the face. The way Steven’s gaze moved up and down when Selene introduced us, he seemed to like what he saw. We grabbed a couple drinks and made semi-awkward conversation, the way you do when you’re both the victims of a set-up and aren’t quite sure if agreeing was a good idea.

  Two drinks in, he was leaning closer, and he did smell good. He said he’s an accountant, and I had to stop myself from choking on my beer. Selene set me up with an accountant? Then again, I was just telling her that I need to stop dating the wrong guys. Hot men with killer abs who are stallions in bed are fun, but they’re not necessarily the kind you bring home to meet your father. And as much as I do not want to admit it, I’m not in my early twenties anymore. Hell, I’ve passed my mid-twenties at this point, and thirty is getting awfully close. I feel like maybe it’s time to get serious about this adulting thing—quit chasing the bad boys with fabulous cocks, and find someone responsible. Mature. In fact, it’s one of my new year’s resolutions.

  Steven seemed like he fit the bill, although the more we chatted the more I realized I felt absolutely nothing for him. No desire to inch closer and accidentally-on-purpose brush against him. No temptation to tilt my chin up and lick my lips to draw attention to my mouth. No finding excuses to put my hand on his arm.

  I was kind of bored.

  Still, that’s no excuse for the guy to wander off and ditch me just before midnight.

  Music blares through the speakers; the living room turned into a dance floor about an hour ago. I see Selene, swaying to the music with her boyfriend Nathan. It’s a fast song with a good beat, but they’re acting like two kids at prom, slow dancing as if no one else is around. I’m happy for Selene. I wasn’t so sure about Nathan at first. He struck me as too much the bad boy type—or, more accurately, the Selene type, which is not necessarily a good thing—but he actually seems pretty nice.

  Selene’s been my best friend since we were kids; my father was their family’s lawyer. She and her twin brother Braxton lost their parents when they were ten, and my dad saw to the estate and managed the trust that contained their parents’ considerable fortune. It meant I spent a lot of time roaming around their big house, the three of us getting into all sorts of trouble together. Over the years, we’ve stayed close. If anything, we’re better friends as adults than we were as scabby-kneed kids.

  I search the crowd for Steven again and see Hope trying to murder me with her eyes. Hope is Braxton’s girlfriend, and she hates me with a seething passion I can feel from across the room. I pretend I don’t noti
ce her. She’s disliked me from the first time we met, about a month ago. I don’t let her ire concern me in the least. This is Braxton we’re talking about. Braxton’s relationships never last. He’s way too much of a player to stick with anyone.

  I give Hope another month, two if she sucks his dick regularly.

  Still, I don’t understand why she hates me so much, other than the fact that I’m Braxton’s best friend. She must assume that means friends with benefits. It’s never been that way with me and Brax, though. We’ve never even fooled around. It’s one of the main tenets of our friendship—the thing that makes this guy/girl thing work, despite the fact that Braxton seems to want to stick his dick in half the women in Seattle. He and I don’t cross that line.

  Not that I haven’t considered it. Braxton isn’t the type of man you can be around without thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Or fuck him. Because if there’s any man in this world who is totally and completely fuckable, it’s Braxton Taylor.

  But I leave that to the steady stream of women who flit in and out of his life, and keep him firmly in the friend zone.

  Selene and Nathan wander over from the makeshift dance floor. Selene’s house is amazing. She still lives in the house she and Braxton grew up in, a fucking mansion in Phinney Ridge. Braxton insisted she keep it, and after college he bought himself a condo not far from here, just off Greenwood. The house is deceiving from the outside. It’s like one of those magical Harry Potter tents—looks pretty normal from the street, but once you walk in, it’s breathtaking. It has six bedrooms, a huge living, dining, and kitchen area with soaring ceilings, an old-fashioned study, and great views from upstairs. Braxton and I don’t live here, but we still have our own bedrooms, leftover from our college days. Selene used to bug me about moving back in with her—the house is definitely way too big for one person—but I prefer to live on my own. There’s a certain weirdness in leaning on their money, even though both of them have plenty. I have an apartment about ten minutes away, but I crash here when the occasion arises. I definitely will tonight—although, sadly, it appears I’ll be sleeping alone.