The House Mate (Roommates, #3)

“What happened to Dylan’s mom? I don’t want to pry, but I wasn’t sure if I could expect her to stop by, or what to say as Dylan grows older and someone asks,” she said, looking apologetic.

I let out a sigh. Of course Addison would wonder that. It was only natural. But how could I tell her the truth? Then again, what choice did I have now?

“Dylan is new to my life, actually,” I said, wondering how best to explain what had happened to Jenn-what had happened to me. “I dated her mother, Jenn, for a couple of months last year. I wasn’t ready for anything serious and she was, so I broke things off. I didn’t hear from her once it ended. Fast forward to a few days ago when she left Dylan on my doorstep and said she couldn’t handle it anymore. I had no idea she was ever pregnant.”

“Oh my God.” Addison raised a hand to her mouth, but before she got the chance to respond, I rushed on.

“Look, I know it’s weird. But just because I’ve only known Dylan for five days doesn’t mean that I don’t love her as deeply as any father loves his daughter.” I didn’t know why, but it felt important that Addison knew that. The defensive tone to my voice was hard to hide. Since she’d arrived, there hadn’t been a single moment that felt like a sacrifice. Making room for Dylan in my life was easy-I really did love the little thing already.

“This just . . .” She shook her head. “It explains so much.”

“It does?”

“There are no pictures of her or Dylan as an infant anywhere. And I couldn’t understand why you’d give a baby an entire piece of burned toast with peanut butter on it for breakfast.”

I let out a grudging laugh. “I’m clearly still getting a handle on this whole thing.”

“So, what happened to Dylan’s mother? Where did she go? Does she want to see Dylan again?”

I swallowed. I didn’t know the answers to those questions. How could I explain this to Addison if I couldn’t even explain it to myself? I’d been the one to screw things up with Jenn in the first place. Maybe if I had just stopped her from leaving, or if I’d told her something, anything, when she’d asked about having a family, I wouldn’t have missed the first year of Dylan’s life.

I didn’t know what she looked like when she was born, and hadn’t gotten to celebrate her first steps or her first tooth. It was all my fault. Because Jenn had known she was pregnant when she’d asked about having kids. Instead of probing or realizing how emotional that conversation had been on her part, I’d just written it off and let her go.

These last few days, late at night when I was alone in bed, I’d begun wondering if somewhere deep down, I’d known all along and it had just been more convenient to ignore.

My heart flipped in my chest as I thought of the ramifications of those actions.

Jesus, what if Jenn hadn’t brought her to me? What if I’d missed countless more milestones as Dylan grew up without her father?

I cleared my tightening throat and shrugged, turning my attention back to Addison, who waited patiently for my reply.

“I’m not sure what Jenn’s plans are, but no matter what, Dylan will be in my life going forward,” I said finally.

Addison nodded. “She’s a lucky girl.”

I winced and took another slug of wine. “Debatable.”

She patted my arm gently and then pulled her hand away. “I see how you are with her. You’re a natural when it comes to the important stuff, like love and attention. And hey, we’ve all got our regrets, you know?”

“Do we?”

She pursed her lips, apparently at war with herself, then in a too-casual tone, she said, “Sure. Hey, I turned my last boyfriend gay, so . . . you know, sometimes life is full of curveballs.”

“You did not turn him gay,” I scoffed.

“I promise you, he was definitely gay, and you do not want to know the details.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I said. “You didn’t turn him gay. He probably just wasn’t willing to admit to himself or anybody else that he was gay, and you got caught in the crosshairs. Happens to more people than you think.”

She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her wine.

“Truly, any man would be lucky to have you. You’re beautiful and funny and smart.”

She looked up at me through her thick lashes, a soft, thoughtful expression in her eyes. A pretty pink blush colored her cheeks as she said, “Thank you.”

I shook my head, ignoring the pulse fluttering in her neck and the swell of her breasts. “Just stating the facts. Now, you still have to show me what you came up with that is apparently so much better than a sweet-ass baby cave with a big-screen TV and a Dylan poster.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

She clicked on her phone, then handed it to me. It looked like a real little girl’s room-pictures of boxy white bookcases filled with brightly colored books, stuffed animals, and toys abounded. There were soft, fluffy blankets, and in one picture, just above the crib, hung a hand-painted plaque with the quote, “She be small but mighty.”

Everything was in shades of dove gray and pink with touches of yellow. These were only pictures, but I already felt like it was special somehow. Like it had all been put together just for Dylan.

“This is great,” I said sincerely. “I’m impressed.”

Addison shrugged, and her fingers brushed over mine as she reclaimed her phone. “One of my favorite hobbies. It’s nothing.”

“I beg to differ.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“Are you always so hard on yourself?” I asked.

Her blush deepened, and she swirled her wine thoughtfully. “Maybe. It’s just . . . you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I said, and something in my tone made her straighten. She let out a deep breath, her brow furrowing again.

“Fine. It’s just like, have you ever felt like a complete disaster area?”

I nodded. “When I first started my construction business, I knew I was going to torch everything important to me. I’d left the Army and the promise of a promotion to do something I had no experience in. It’s just one of those things you have to let play out. I love working with my hands, and if I hadn’t given it a try-“