Page 70

It didn’t get any better from there. An advertisement for a new pair of trainers. Then it decided it hated me. A smiling couple appeared on the screen.

Five Things Every New Dad Should Know.

I froze. The blood drained from my face. Before I could stop myself, I clicked it. Mistake. A massive fucking mistake. The man in the video grinned as he spoke about supporting your partner during the first trimester.

“You can expect fatigue. Morning sickness. Food aversions.”

I exited the video immediately. Another one replaced it.

Hospital bag essentials.

Wonderful. I exited again. This time I hopped onto a completely different app.

Pregnancy announcement ideas.

Are you kidding me? My jaw clenched. The phone was now enemy number one. I typed into the search bar to reset things. It worked for a bit, but then out of the blue.

Unique baby names.

“Fuck off. Fuck, all the way off,” I muttered, this time holding down the screen for the stupid pop up so I could tell the app I wasn’t interested in this shitty ass content.

Where the hell was it even coming from? Maybe people were right. The phones listened in on conversations. I’d had it out at the store, and it probably didn’t help that I’d Googled a few things. Not my wisest idea. The next video loaded.

A tiny baby wrapped in a blanket. I launched the damned phone across the room. It struck the wall with a satisfying thud before bouncing off a filing cabinet. The impact rattled everything. A framed picture crashed to the floor.

Glass shattered. The debris reminded me of the porcelain fragments littering the floor of Sonny’s trophy room. It reminded me of Isabella sitting on the floor, and the tiny cuts on her fingers. My jaw tightened.

“Brilliant.”

The last thing I needed was Kinsley stepping on broken glass. With a sigh, I pushed off the couch and crossed the room. A framed photo lay face down near the wall.

I crouched beside it and carefully lifted it. Then I grabbed the broom from the utility closet. The sound of the rhythmic scrape of the bristles against the floor grounded me. Tiny shards glittered beneath the lights as I swept them into a pile.

Only after I was satisfied every piece was gone did I dump it into the bin. Silence settled over the office once more. I rolled my shoulders to loosen the tension.

The mantrum hadn’t helped. Not even a little. Thankfully, my phone survived. I picked it up and wandered over to Kinsley’s desk. The familiar scent of her honeysuckle lotion lingered in the room.

The desk itself looked mostly organized. A stack of papers sat slightly crooked. I fixed them. Then the pen cup looked off-center. I fixed that too. Then I adjusted the keyboard and picture frame.

My hand lingered. Three smiling faces stared up from the frame. Kinsley sat on one side of the table. Tori on the other. Isabella was between them. She looked…

Happy. She was smiling. It had totally transformed her face. My thumb brushed against the edge of the frame. The photo had been taken at the teahouse. Judging by the ridiculous tower of pastries in the middle of the table, Kinsley had probably ordered enough food to feed a village.

Shit. Had my little princess eaten anything today?

I could text her. That wouldn’t hurt, right? My phone was already in my hand.

“No. She asked for space.” I stared at her smiling face one last time. “And you’ll bloody well give it to her.”

I unlocked my phone and opened Google. Maybe I could find a counselor outside the family to talk to. This hurt and confusion wouldn’t go away on its own. But then I remembered my promise. No one meant exactly that.

And you love her enough to honor her request.

The declaration lingered like a splinter beneath my skin, impossible to ignore no matter how hard I tried. With a frustrated sigh, I dropped my phone onto my desk and opened my laptop instead.

There was always club-related work that needed attention. Membership applications, instructor schedules, and inventory. Hell, even maintenance requests would be a better use of my time than moping around.

I lost myself in spreadsheets and emails. The hours slipped by unnoticed. At some point, I made coffee and chugged it like crazy. The glow of the screen left my eyes aching.