A Lie for a Lie (All In, #1)(64)

We head back up to Lainey’s apartment, the elevator half-full with people returning home from work.

“Mommy’s not feeling all that hot, buddy, so we’re going to take care of her, and you and me are going to have a boys’ night. Sound good?” He squawks at me, like he’s in agreement with this plan, so I keep talking. “We can watch some hockey, and I’ll even let you drink all the mommy milk you want, as long as you don’t rat me out.” Kody makes more baby sounds at me and reaches up to smack uncoordinatedly at my face. “You high-fivin’ me?”

The elevator dings and I glance up, checking to see if it’s my stop, which is when I notice that every woman on the elevator is staring at me. Thankfully, it’s my floor, so I excuse myself, and they all clamber to either move out of the way or hold the door open, since I’m laden down with baby things and a baby.

“I think my ovaries just exploded,” says one woman as the doors start to shut.

“He’s like the poster boy for DILFs,” says another one.

I don’t get to hear any more commentary, because the doors slide closed. I have to set all the bags down and root around in my pocket to find the keys.

The door across the hall opens, and Walter appears. I’m loath to admit it, but he’s not a bad-looking guy. Lean, almost wiry build, still has all of his hair—but there’s a hint of recession flirting at the temples, which means in about ten years he’ll have a horseshoe. Solidly average, maybe, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an asshole. “You look like you’re struggling.”

“I got it,” I mutter, finally snagging the keys.

“Just so you know, I’ll be right here, waiting for the day when all the fun of playing house wears off and you abandon Lainey again.”

I glance over my shoulder and find him leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that. “Look, I know my showing up threw a wrench in your plans, Walt, and I appreciate the fact that you were here to help Lainey when she needed it, but you should probably move on. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll believe that when you’re still here six months from now. You’re on the road all the time, aren’t you? Professional hockey player and all that. Must be hard on relationships, being away that much. Lainey’s bound to need some help when you’re not around, and me being right across the hall makes it easy for me to step in.” He smiles wryly. “Have a good night, RJ.” He turns his attention to Kody and gives him a little tickle under the chin, his tough-guy facade turning into wistful sadness. “Be good for your mom.”

He disappears back into his apartment, and for a few seconds I feel bad for him. He was here when I wasn’t. He wanted Lainey despite the fact that she came with a brand-new baby that wasn’t his. He knows how special she is. But he’s wrong about being around to help out, because as soon as she’s ready, I’ll be moving them into my house, so Walter will effectively be removed from any and all equations.

I might feel bad for him, but I sure as hell don’t want him as my competition.

I put Kody in his activity center in the living room before I grab the fifty million bags Lainey sends with him to day care. I drop them all on the couch, lock the door, pick Kody back up, and head down the hall to check on Lainey.

I peek in the room and find her sleeping, which is good. She obviously needs some rest. I mentally scroll through the list of things Lainey typically does when she gets home from work. Usually she feeds Kody right away, and considering how he’s bumping his nose on my shoulder, I have a feeling he’s not going to be quiet about how hungry he is soon. And there’s no way I’m going to wake Lainey up to take care of him right now.

“Come on, little man, let’s get you some dinner.”

Lainey keeps bottles in the fridge, and there’s a box of baby cereal on the counter, probably from this morning. I put Kody in his saucer to bounce around while I follow the directions to make him dinner and heat up a bottle to go with it.

Word to the wise: feeding a baby cereal the consistency of . . . things I’d rather not compare it to is messy business. By the time I’m done, Kody has food in his hair and all over his neck, his bib, and his hands.

I somehow have managed to get it all over my shirt as well. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I’m forced to use a dishcloth to clean off the spots. Then I take Kody to the bathroom, run him a tepid bath, and wash all the cereal off him before I give him his bottle.

It’s well after six by the time we’re done with dinner and the bath, and I still haven’t eaten. I don’t want to make unnecessary noise on the off chance it’ll wake Lainey up, plus the smell might not go well with nausea.

I take stock of what’s in her pantry and the fridge and decide a shopping trip is necessary. There’s a small grocery store down the street where I can pick up a few things for her and something for me. I leave a note on her night table and get Kody dressed in his going-out gear.

Getting him into the stroller is another epic feat, but I figure it out. Lainey has one of those baby carrier things where I can strap him to my body, but there’s about seven hundred yards of fabric that I don’t know what to do with, so I leave that for another time.

I don’t take into account that this is Kody’s fussy time of day, or the fact that I can’t see him as he squawks his irritation, probably at still being awake and not in his mother’s arms. I manage to pick up the necessities, such as ginger ale, soda crackers, chicken soup, sports drinks, and some bread and cold cuts so I can make myself some sandwiches when we get back to the apartment. I also pick up a pizza slice and devour it while I’m loading things on the belt.