Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(3)

Vanessa had said she’d fed her, so she wasn’t hungry. She was dry. No gas, no pain. She had to be tired, but something was keeping her from sleeping.

What kept me from sleeping?

And then I had a thought.

I laid her down on the couch cushion, opened the blanket, and started to feel around her little footie pajamas. I ran my fingers along the seams and about mid-belly I found it. A clear T-shaped plastic tag fastener, still stuck to the outfit. Totally invisible.

“No wonder you’re pissed. I’d be pissed too,” I said. I looked around for scissors. Didn’t see any. So I leaned down and pulled the thing off with my teeth. Then I unzipped her little pj’s and took out the rest of the offending object and rubbed the red spot on her belly with a knuckle. “Shhhhhhh…”

She stopped crying almost immediately.





CHAPTER 2





HOT GUY TAMES MY BABY!




VANESSA

I wasn’t entirely truthful when I said I didn’t know him. Adrian Copeland was the hottest guy in my building, so of course I knew him. Or, rather, I knew of him. Everyone did. He was sort of this bachelor legend around here.

He probably didn’t know me. And when I finally met him, it was 4:00 in the morning, my poor parenting skills had woken him up, and I had barf in my hair—because of course I did.

I was honestly too tired to care. This had been the worst night of the worst two weeks of my entire year. I’d been thrust into instant motherhood, I’d gotten into a huge fight with my sister, and now Grace was having some sort of epic meltdown that I couldn’t figure out.

I just didn’t understand it. Grace was a mythically good baby. Like, ridiculously good. If I was going to have a surprise infant dropped on my doorstep, I couldn’t have asked for an easier one. She wasn’t a crier, she slept well, we’d gotten our routine down over the last two weeks—and then all of a sudden right after her bath she lost her ever-loving shit.

I’d tried it all. I even did a video call with her pediatrician who seemed wholly unconcerned and suggested I bring her in tomorrow if she was still “fussy.”

Adrian’s offer was too good to refuse.

One, his reasoning made sense. What I was doing—or not doing—was not working. And I was extremely open to suggestions at this point. I would have tried an exorcism if the person who had knocked had been a priest instead of a hotshot attorney.

Two, the man had too much to lose to do something stupid.

This was a guy who made it into the Star Tribune at least once a month for his legal prowess. I knew this because every time he did, Yoga Lady in 303 sent me a link along with twenty heart-eye emojis. I think she had a Google Alert set up. She was practically his stalker.

Adrian was like me. He had a reputation and a public persona to safeguard. Murdering Grace and me would be highly out of character and really bad for business. Plus, he thought he was in an apartment full of cameras—which he wasn’t—but he didn’t know that.

And lastly? Nobody was coming to rescue me. No one else was banging my door down to help me in my seventh level of hell. And I needed that shower. Bad. I just needed to wash off the barf and the sweat and change out of pants that didn’t have baby pee on them. And Grace needed someone to hold her while I did it. Every time I tried putting her down she started crying so hard she looked like she was going to explode.

All I needed was five minutes. Just five short minutes. Maybe it would help—and if it didn’t, at least I’d be in a better headspace to keep dealing with the screaming because as it stood, I was two seconds away from a complete mental breakdown.

I stripped and washed myself like I was being timed for speed. Approximately four minutes after I’d gotten in the shower—which was by far the best, if not the shortest, one of my life—I turned off the water to get out, and I was met by eerie, cold silence.

My heart plummeted.

Oh my God.

Something was wrong.

I wrapped a towel around me so fast I almost slid on the tile.

What had I been thinking? I didn’t know this man. I mean I did, but I didn’t. What if he kidnapped her? Dropped her off the balcony? What if he was a perfectly normal guy who had been on the verge of a psychotic break and the crying had pushed him over the edge and now he’d shaken her to death? I was so stupid!

I threw the bathroom door open, braced for Lord knows what, and froze.

Adrian was lying across the sofa in my dim living room, head on a throw pillow with a finger pressed to his lips. Grace was nestled in the crook of his arm on her back, and she was sleeping.

I just stood there gawking at him. I couldn’t even believe it. I had to tiptoe over to them dripping wet to see it close up.

What was this sorcery? How did he do it? The man was like a baby whisperer or something. Grace cooed softly in her sleep, and I had to clutch a hand over my heart.

There must be a primal internal switch that flips when you see a man take care of a child, because I swear I fell a little bit in love right there. I mean, the guy was gorgeous without this witchcraft, but now? Holy shit.

I was sopping wet, just staring at him. When I didn’t move to go, he blinked at me and made a small shooing motion. I blushed, forcing myself to go back to the bathroom to get dressed.

When I returned, working my hair into a damp braid, Grace hadn’t moved. I stood next to the sofa twisting an elastic around my hair.