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It is completely inappropriate to come on to the nanny.
Skye knows this. Skye is fully aware of this, and has read several forum posts about it.
She also knows last night she had a dream that Grant was doing the laundry, and she came into the laundry room and said, “Oh Grant, let me reward you for all the hard work you’ve been doing.” At which point, dream!Skye pulled down Grant’s pants, revealing a rather impressive dick, and despite that she’d somehow managed to get the whole thing in her mouth without struggle.
Which shows, one, how ridiculous her dreams are, and two, that she is thirsty as all hell.
Well, maybe not like, super thirsty. Because she doesn’t just want to go out and get dick. She want’s Grant’s specific dick. Like, so badly that it’s starting to drive her out of her mind.
She is dying of thirst out here. Literally dying.
And what makes it even worse is that last night, in a not-dream reality, she and Grant had the stupid, stupid stupidity to cook dinner together. Which had just been a lot of closeness. At one point he’d stood behind her while she made pasta sauce. He’d accidentally grasped her hips and held her against him. Which is like, understandable. He’s such a sweet guy that he’s just trying to make sure she doesn’t get too close to the stove. And he’d only been blushing when they’d broken apart because she was SO. WEIRD. ABOUT. EVERYTHING.
Why did he have to be so hot? And nice, and smart, and talented, and funny, and understanding, and literally the perfect father to her child? It’s like he’s an angel from heaven, or something.
Which makes wanting to sleep with him an ACTUAL, CARDINAL SIN.
It didn’t matter that he’d said he loved her that one time. She was sick. She probably hallucinated it. Or maybe he meant that he also loved her like a mom? There’s a variety of options. It didn’t mean he’s IN LOVE with her, is what she means.
She should get out of bed. It’s already 9:30AM and she technically has stuff to do. She just has to pull her pillow over her face and scream into it, first.
NOTHING IS HELPING THIS THIRST.
She makes her way into the kitchen. And Grant is shirtless, naturally, crouched over the high chair. He’s got a spoonful of baby food in a small, airplane-shaped spoon, grinning and laughing as Phillip reaches for his food.
“Can I have some of this?” Grant asks, turning the spoon towards his own mouth. “Can I have some of your breakfast, Phillip?”
Skye is going to throw herself out the window. Just super casually. Just walk backwards towards the nearest window and lean out of it.
He’s always shirtless. He sleeps without a shirt on and he does pushups in the afternoon without his shirt on and he cares for her baby in the most perfect way with, guess what, no shirt on!
He’s so fit. He’s made of marble. She needs to lick him.
He’s just noticed that she’s in the kitchen. “Skye!” he says. And he does this thing where his whole expression changes from baby friendly to Skye friendly. Like a light’s gone off in his perfectly-shaped head and he’s excited to see her.
If he had a tail, it would probably always be wagging.
“Heeeeeeeey,” she offers. “Guys. Fun breakfast?”
“Yeah!” Grant says, with all the enthusiasm of the most perfect man in the world. “Except-” He gives Phillip a look of exaggerated disappointment. Phillip laughs in delight. “Someone’s being a fussy eater!”
“Aw, Phil,” Skye says. She takes the spoon from Grant, and offers it to Phillip. “Do you miss my boobs?”
“I would,” Grant says.
Skye almost dies. She’s 90% sure almost just died. Grant coughs about thirty times. Phillip finally decides to eat his damn baby food, so at least there’s one success.
“Sorry,” Grant says. “I’m- I mean- Breastfeeding is so- I was never breastfed as a baby so like-”
“You can stop,” Skye says, heaping out another spoonful of baby food. “It’s all good.”
“Okay,” he says, relief palpable. “Good. I’m glad we get each other.”
“Better than anyone,” Skye says. “You wash my underwear.”
He laughs to himself. “You wash mine.”
Maybe it’s like saying “I love you too,” except they’ve never kissed and he’s probably super uncomfortable and it’s nothing like saying “I love you” at all. Skye is just deeply, deeply delusional at this point. But she’s willing to admit it.
Phillip sticks his fingers into his baby food, obviously not willing to wait for the flirting to stop. He attempts to feed himself, and instead gets most of it on his cheeks.
He attempts it again.
“No, no,” Skye says, catching his little wrist. “No sweetie. We’ll feed you.”
He drops his handful of mush onto his high-chair tray, where it splatters. Skye is lucky enough to get some of it right in the eye.
She winces as Phillip mashes his free hand against his tray, splattering mush all over his bib, Skye, and Grant’s torso.
Phillip laughs in delight.
“Aw,” Grant says. “He’s making art with his food!”
Skye has no idea how he does it. All she’s feeling for Phillip is the sort of exasperation that she’s come to equate with motherhood.
Yet another reason she’d be boned without Grant, really.
All she needs is to be boned by Grant, and then everything will be perfect.
Okay. Not the time. There’s baby food in her hair, and all over the baby, and Phillip’s trying to feed her, apparently. He’s offering her his most recent handful of baby food.
“Look at how smart he is!” Grant says. “He’s trying to help with breakfast!” He crouches down to Phillip’s eye level. “You are so special and smart!” Grant says. “The best baby in the whole world!”
Phillip doesn’t want to wait for Skye anymore, so he flings his baby food at her face.
He gets her right in the cheek. Good aim.
And Grant goes from appreciative coos to a small gasp of horror. “Phillip no,” he says. “That’s not how we eat!”
“It’s fine,” Skye says, stepping back from the high chair. She wipes her cheek off with a paper towel. “He’s got a good arm.”
“An athlete and a genius!” Grant says, now that Skye has deemed being hit with baby food as acceptable. “Phillip, you have to save some talent for the other babies! Otherwise it won’t be fair!”
Phillip makes babbles of confusion.
Grant nods in understand. “I know. It’s not easy being so talented. I’m proud of you!” he says, tickling Phillip’s little foot. “Yes I am! I’m so proud of you!”
No one makes Phillip laugh like Grant does. Skye’s pretty sure it’s because Phillip has accepted Grant as Parent, and Skye as Less Important Parent. Which isn’t unfair, since Skye lacks all of Grant’s tact, patience, and understanding.
But still. She was the one that had to go through labor.
“I’m gonna go get this stuff out of my hair,” Skye says. “You good?”
“We’re great!” Grant says. He’s taken the spoon back up. And he’s making airplane noises, which is unfair for him to do with no shirt on. His entire existence is unfair. Skye loves him so much it may literally kill her.
“Okay,” Skye says. Grant’s distracted, anyway. “Great.”
She rinses the baby food out her hair in the shower. She’d briefly considered setting the water to ice cold, like maybe that would help. But she’s a wimp and she likes hot showers and she’s just going to have to suffer, here.
Grant is so good looking.
Grant is so good, period. He’s got the brightest, kindest heart Skye’s ever seen. And she wants him so badly that she considers just never leaving the shower again. There’s this constant push and pull she’s got going on in the back of her head; she either wants to throw herself at him or lock herself up. She doesn’t know what he wants. What he’s expecting, what he needs. She’s just being undoubtedly selfish in a situation where she could fuck herself over potentially forever. And even after that. Grant is nurturing. Grant is sweet. Above all else, he has this kind of unattainable goodness that Skye is afraid to step on. What if she hurts him? What if she goes too far?
He needs to be protected, just like he protects her baby. Needs something that can love him, that isn’t just her.
Skye might just have an idea.
He’s family. He’s her family, but he’s not her boyfriend or her husband. Yet! All she needs is something that will bring them even closer together. One last piece to bridge the gap.
Grant Ward needs a dog. And Skye is willing to fulfill all his needs. All of them.
She’s going to hell.
She’s going to get him a dog, damn it. And he will love that dog so much.
Good news: It’s Sprout TV time, so it’s not like they’ll need her for a few hours.
She throws on her lazy ‘going outside’ outfit, and grabs her bag.
“Grant,” she asks, in the doorway of the living room. “I need to head out for a few hours. All good?”
He turns to look at her over his shoulder. Grins. Oh boy. He’s making her knees week. “All good,” he says.
“Call me if you need me,” Skye says. She doesn’t add ‘physically,’ to it, because again, she’s thirsty as hell but she hasn’t quite stooped that low. Not yet, though she feels pretty close to it.
“Will do!” Grant says. “Say Bye-Bye to Mommy, Phillip!”
Phillip makes a series of noises that are probably supposed to mean goodbye. Grant claps proudly.
“Look at you!” Grant says. “He’s so smart, Skye. I know I say it a lot but I really mean it.”
“I know,” she says. And she’s still just standing there, waiting for something to happen. “So... I’m gonna go.”
Phillip makes the “bye-bye” noise again. It’s not quite words, but Grant’s right: he’s really, really getting the hang of almost talking.
“Bye!” Skye offers. It feels corny and weird and she feels corny and weird, and standing her is getting her nowhere so-
“Skye!” Grant calls, and he’s suddenly catching her wrist as she’s almost out the door.
She blinks. “Hi,” she says.
He’s wrapping her into a hug. He’s put a soft white shirt on, he smells like Grant and home and he’s hugging her. “Be safe!” he says, like he hasn’t just changed her whole world.
“Anything for you,” she says.
He stares at her.
She thinks it’s best to actually leave.
--
It doesn’t take more than a couple of hours.
She’d thought it would take longer. That she’d need to go to more shelters, or something. Maybe that was the usually case. She didn’t want to appear impulsive, picking the first dog she saw. But after she’d seen this one, she couldn’t think about adopting anyone else.
Plus, he’s two years old. He’s not a tiny puppy, and his coloring is a little funny. Skye loves him. She knows what it’s like to wait to be adopted. Oh boy, does she know what that’s like.
In dog years, the little guy is already 14. She remembers the ache of 14.
The dog seems relatively unfazed, though.
“Ready to meet your new daddy?” she asks. She briefly considers if she should’ve asked Phillip the same thing, before hiring Grant. She wonders when Grant went from “Nanny” to “Dad,” and realizes it’s only the most logical procession of things.
“Grant?” she asks, knocking on the door to her apartment. Her arms are a little full. “I’ve got a lot of stuff, so if you could get-”
The door swings inward. “Are you okay?” Grant asks. “Phillip is in his swing so I can-”
The the dog looks up at Grant with happy, brown eyes. And Grant, for his part, goes perfectly still, letting out a small gasp.
“So,” Skye says. “I wanted to show you how much I ca- appreciate you and I got you a-”
“Puppy!” Grant declares, scooping the dog up before Skye even registers it.
To add insult to injury, that dog had squirmed when Skye held him the first time. But with Grant, it’s straight to face-licking.
Another one bites the dust.
“He’s two, actually,” Skye says. “His name is Snoopy, and-”
“He’s perfect,” Grant says, as Snoopy wags his little tail. “He’s exactly what we need! Look at our little family!”
Skye swallows. Grant’s too excited to notice his slip-up, and it’s a really, really flattering one. Skye doesn’t want to correct him. She wants it to be true. “I had to get some stuff for him,” she says, trying to lift the pile in her arms. “I got food and toys and-”
“Oh wow,” Grant says, quickly tucking a happy Snoopy under his arm. Skye hands him the leash. “Sorry! Let me help! I got distracted.”
“He’s housebroken, too,” Skye says, as Grant takes the bag of dog food from her. “Which is nice.”
“Aw Snoopy,” Grant says, giving his new best friend a squeeze. “Are you potty trained? Are you a good boy?”
Snoopy barks in assent.
“So you speak baby and dog?” Skye asks, following Grant into the apartment. “What about cat?”
Grant shrugs. Puts Snoopy down on the kitchen floor, and the kibble on the countertop. “Cats are stubborn.”
“Oh my God,” Skye says. “Grant Ward, how are you real?”
She’s almost positive the face he makes at her is illegal in its cuteness. “I just listen.”
“Yeah,” Skye says. “You’ve told me that.”
“I can’t believe you got a dog,” Grant says. “That’s amazing. It’s such a good idea. Phillip is going to be so happy!”
Okay. Okay. Just tell him. She meets his eyes. “I got Snoopy for you, really,” Skye says. “So you’ll always feel appreciated.”
“Oh,” he says. “Oh Skye, I- You- You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I wanted to,” Skye says. Puts her stuff in a pile on the kitchen table, because she at least needs to be able to touch Grant’s arm, damn it. “I- About the other night. When I was sick and we-”
Grant blinks. “We-”
She’s tracing the line of his sleeve. “We almost-”
Snoopy starts barking at the two of them. Skye’s life is garbage and her new dog is garbage and she, herself, is personally garbage.
“Hi Snoopy!” Grant says, pulling away from her. “What’s going on?”
Snoopy wags, then proceeds to chase, his own tail.
“He wants to go for a walk,” Grant says. “Maybe we could go get Phillip and all go to the park?”
“Sounds good,” Skye says. “Whatever you want.” He doesn’t want to talk about it and he hates her and holy shit, she’s a terrible boss and-
She’s currently in her second Grant-hug of the day. “I know it must’ve been an impulsive decision,” Grant says. “But it was the right one. He’s perfect, Skye.”
“You’re perfect,” she says, partially muffled by his shoulder. “You’re my family, Grant. Phillip’s family and this dog is-”
“Our dog?” Grant offers.
“Yeah,” Skye says. “Our dog.”
“Well let’s take our dog and Phillip to the park, then,” Grant says.
“You know,” Skye says. “You’ve called Phillip ours a couple of times, and um-”
“Oh!” Grant says, turning pink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“No,” Skye says. “I think you should. I think he is ours. Yours, really. Mine genetically but. Yours.”
“He loves you,” Grant says. “I wish you saw that as much as I do.”
What about you? Skye wants to say. This would be the time to do it. “I love him,” Skye says. “He’s my son.”
Grant tucks her hair behind her ear. “You’re an amazing mom,” he said. “I’ll tell you every day, if you need to hear it.”
Is her face hot? Is she on fire? Is she dead? “Walk in the park?” she says.
Grant beams. “I’ll go put the baby sling on!”
She is going to die.
“Do you want to stop at Starbucks, by the way?” Grant asks, from the hall.
She is not going to die until she’s had her Starbucks.
They make quite a crowd, standing in the Starbucks line. It’s her and Grant and her (their) baby strapped to Grant’s chest, and the new dog tucked under Grant’s arm so not to break any rules.
“Do you want me to hold him?” Skye asks. “You’ve already got the baby.”
“No, no,” Grant says, inching Snoopy closer to Phillip. “This is so they can bond. It’s better if I’m holding both of them.”
Well. He’s the expert. And she did mean that sort of sarcastically, but now that she thinks about it, it’s actually pretty true.
Phillip has taken to patting Snoopy’s head, now that Snoopy is finally within arm’s reach. Snoopy responds by trying to lick Phillip’s chubby hand.
“Look!” Grant says. “Best friends already.”
Skye chuckles. “Well they’ve got you to play mediator,” she says. “So of course they’d get along.”
Snoopy has succeeded in licking the baby. Skye knows this because Phillip screeches loudly with delight. Which would be fine if they weren’t on line.
“Grant, bab-” Holy crap. No. No no no nope. “Grant,” she says. “Wanna go sit down with them?”
He nods. He didn’t notice. He couldn’t have noticed. “Sure thing,” he says.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Iced green tea would be nice,” Grant says.
Skye smiles despite, her earlier flub. On their first Starbucks trip, Grant had been so nervous. So anxious about her treating him. But they’ve fallen into routine now. He trusts her. That’s a feeling wrapped very tightly around her heart. “Of course.”
She watches him walk across the Starbucks, quietly marveling at how his butt always looks amazing. It’s unfair. It’s an affront to civil society.
“Your husband is literally the dream,” the barista says.
Skye takes a moment to realize she’s talking to her. “Oh,” Skye says. “Um, he’s-” Not her husband. Not the father of her child. Not in love with her, are you crazy? He only said it like, once, it’s probably a fluke. “Really great.”
The barista gives a little sigh. “You’re so lucky,” she says. “Finding a guy like that.”
Skye feels a faint kick in her abdomen. Like she’s having a baby and his father isn’t there. “I had to go through a lot to get there,” Skye says. “Trust me.” Trust her, because she is telling lies. Apparently, this is her dream life and Grant is her husband.
That’s one hell of a dream. It hasn’t been six months.
They’re not even dating.
Skye swallows the entirely of her insecurity whole, and orders two iced green teas.
She chews on her straw as they walk down the park path. It’s just ice at this point, but having something in her mouth is keeping her distracted.
This is terrible. She is terrible.
She’s also keeping the cup in her right hand, just in case she gets the urge to hold hands with Grant, or something equally awful.
This is so weird. This is so stupid. She’s not usually this shy! She has a baby. She has literal, actual proof that she knows what sex is.
And she’s sure Grant’s had sex. Look at him? Who wouldn’t want to have sex with him? Oh. That makes a small bit of jealous flare in her stomach. Nope. Not going there.
“You know,” Skye says, as they wander through the park. “You haven’t gone on a date since I ruined your last one.”
Grant stares at the trees and the flowers and not at her. “Yeah, I know.”
“Is that my fault?” Skye asks. “I mean, for calling you in the middle of your last date. Are you worried I’ll ruin it again?”
“No,” he says. “Not at all.”
“You’re young,” Skye says. “You should be dating people.”
A snicker. “You know you’re younger than me, right?” Grant says.
“Yeah,” Skye says. “But I’m a mom. That makes me emotionally older by default.”
“I’m not interested in dating,” Grant says, in a rush. Like he barely heard her last statement. “I don’t-” He runs a hand through his hair. Looks down at her, with his head backlit by the afternoon sun.
Snoopy walks happily ahead of them. Grant’s holding his leash. And carrying the baby. And Skye feels kind of useless and helpless and speechless, all at once.
“It’s you,” Grant says. The leash is slung around his right wrist, and he fidgets at it with his left hand. Phillip reaches for the brightly-colored leash, probably hoping to chew on it. Grant pulls his hands away, whispering something softly to Phillip to keep him from crying. He’s not looking at her. Just at the top of Phillip’s head. Up ahead, Snoopy tugs on his leash.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t want to-”
“No one compares to you,” Grant says. “No one comes close.”
Oh. Oh. “I’m not that special,” she says. “You’re like, a master caretaker and you’re built like a god and you’re so kind, Grant, really, if anyone should be the standard it’s you.”
“But you’re like,” he gestures. “A genius. A literal genius. And you’re gorgeous. And funny. And cool, and you’re a great cook even though you think you’re not, and I-” He’s a funny shade of pink. “I-”
“I heard what you said to Phillip,” Skye said. “When I was sick.”
Pink bleeds into red. “I-”
“And I’m sure you meant it in like,” Skye waves her hands. “I’m like a maternal figure, or whatever, I’m your boss, and it was just-”
“That’s not how I meant it,” Grant says. “You’re a great mom but I have never seen you like that, personally. That’s not how I, um- That’s not how I feel.”
She’s going to throw up. Like, rainbows or something, but still. “How do you feel?” Skye asks.
They’ve stopped walking. They’re just standing in the path, with Snoopy straining to pull ahead and a baby between them.
He leans forward. She drops her Starbucks cup, mostly out of surprise. Maybe out of anticipation. Phillip is reaching for her, completely oblivious to what’s happening above his head. His little baby hands pull at her hair.
She doesn’t care. Grant meets her gaze. She takes a breath in, and shuts her eyes.
And Grant kisses her. Just like that.
It’s soft. Gentle. Like a first kiss between thirteen year olds, and not two adults.
She doesn’t care. It’s perfect.
Or it is, until Phillip pulls really, really hard on her hair. Grant had been right. Her baby’s got an arm on him. “Phillip!” she chides, untangling his fingers from her hair. “That hurt!”
Phillip gurgles in response.
She looks up at Grant. He’s smiling. More than smiling. He’s laughing.
She giggles, despite herself. “Moment ruined?”
“No,” Grant says. “It’s perfect.”
She nibbles on her lip for a moment. “Want to walk a little more?” Skye says. “Tire these two out-” She gestures between Snoopy and Phillip. “And then we can go back to the apartment. And talk.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” he says.
She takes a moment to pick up her cup, because she may be love-struck but she’s not an animal. And this time, she holds it in her left hand. That way, her right hand is free.
Grant gently laces his fingers with hers. “That okay?” he asks.
She squeezes his hand. Tries to. His hand outsizes hers by like, a lot. “Yes,” she says. “It’s more than okay.”
He takes his eyes off her. Just for a moment. Just so he can look at Phillip and ask, “Can I hold hands with your mommy, Phillip?”
Skye snickers. “Seriously?”
Phillip makes a series of low, serious-sounding noises. Skye’s pretty sure it’s because Snoopy is up ahead and he wants to pet the dog again, but hey, she’s not the one that speaks baby.
“He says as long so I take care of you,” Grant says. “Then it’s okay.”
Skye lightly thumbs Phillip’s cheek. “Are you looking out for me, Phillip?” she says. “We all know he said the opposite. He’s probably more worried about me taking care of you.”
Phillip babbles in assent. She doesn’t blame him.
“I guess we’ll both have to listen to him, then,” Grant says.
“I guess so,” she says.
Snoopy barks at them, giving an insistent pull ahead.
“Let’s get moving,” Grant says.
“Following your lead,” Skye says.
He kisses the top of her head for good measure.
Phillip is already asleep by the time they put him in his crib. Making tiny little baby snores, his hand firmly place in his mouth.
“Do you think we should talk to him about it?” Skye says. “Try to explain?”
“I think he gets it,” Grant says. “Though talking to him about it couldn’t hurt.”
“Will he understand, though?” Skye says. “Maybe we should wait till he’s older.”
Grant turns his head. Looks at her with the most curious expression. “You’re planning to keep me around that long?”
She nods. Mostly to herself. “You’re-” She takes in a breath. Slides her hand along the railing of the crib, until her pinky links with his. “You’re Phillip’s dad, Grant,” she says. “I can’t lose you. Not ever.”
“I wouldn’t go anywhere,” Grant says. “I just... can’t fathom that you’d really want me around forever.”
“Well fathom it,” Skye says, which isn’t the smoothest line but feels like the right one. “Because you’ve kissed me and now you’re on lock.”
He laughs. “Okay,” he says. “If those are the rules.”
“Come on,” Skye says. “We should let him sleep.”
“We should,” Grant agrees. “Come on, Snoopy.”
Snoopy looks up at them from where he’s settled, under Phillip’s crib. With a chuff, he sets his head back on his paws.
“Snoopy,” Skye says. “I bought you a bed! I had it delivered! It’s in the living room!”
Snoopy doesn’t budge.
“He wants to stay with Phillip,” Grant says. Skye notes his proud little smile, and knows she’s probably the most love-struck idiot in the world right now. She could never deny him anything. “Best friends stick together!”
“Families stick together,” Skye says, tugging on Grant’s hand. She waves a warning finger at Snoopy. “If you bark and wake him up, Snoopy-”
“He won’t!” Grant says. “Snoopy would never.”
“And so it begins,” Skye says.
Grant raises his eyebrows. “What?”
She pulls him from the nursery, laughing to herself.
“Skye?” Grant asks. “What’s so funny?”
She siddles up to him in the hall. Stands on the tips of her toes. Pokes him square in the chest. “You, Grant Ward,” she says. “You’re what’s funny.”
He wraps his arms around her. “I can do funny,” he says. “I can do whatever you want.”
If possible, Skye would have stars in her eyes right now. He smells amazing. He always smells amazing, and his jaw is so strong and his eyes look like gold and-
She grabs his jaw and pulls him down into a kiss. It lacks the gentle kindness of his kiss in the park, and she thinks that’s the point. She’s hungry. She’s starving. She needs him.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. One of his hands finds her hair. Not to pull, but to stroke. To feel. She bumps her hips against his.
He breaks the kiss. “Oh,” he says. “Um-”
Too much. Too much, she’s such an idiot. “Sorry,” she says. “I got-” Horny? Eager? “Excited.”
“That’s good,” Grant says. “Excited is good.”
She swallows. “Grant Ward,” she says. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
Now it’s his turn to look starry-eyed. “Yes,” he says, immediately. Turns pink. “I mean- Wow. Yeah. Yep. 100%,” he says. “There’s nothing I want more.”
“Thank God,” Skye says.
He comes in for another kiss. She’s more than happy to oblige him.
This time, when she rubs her hips against his, he ruts back. Okay. Oookay. She’s not prepared for the way that makes her feel.
She moans. Tosses her head back. He follows her lead, moving in to place gentle kisses and nibbles along the column of her throat.
They’re still in the hallway. She doesn’t care. He could literally take her in a public bathroom and she wouldn’t care. All that matter is Grant Ward loves with her, actual in-love love, and he’s going to be inside her in exactly-
Whenever there isn’t someone at her front door. The pounding knock practically kills her. On the inside.
“Are you kidding me?” she says. Grant’s hand has moved to her butt, and is still firmly there, despite the circumstances. She appreciates it.
“It’s probably the dog bed,” Grant says. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We can get it and then-”
“Go back to talking,” Skye says. “Of course.”
“Right,” Grant says, with a lopsided, dopey grin. “Talking.”
Another booming knock. “I’m coming!” Skye yells. She storms down the hall, since clearly the delivery guy has no patience. “If they wake Phillip, I swear to God-”
“They won’t,” Grant says. “Just keep your voice down, and-”
Skye pulls the door inward.
And there, in all of his glory, is the biological father of her child.
“Nope,” Skye says, which is the most eloquent thing she can come up with. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
Grant stands behind her. “He’s not-” She doesn’t like Grant’s change of tone. Not one bit. “You’re not a dog bed.”
“Hey Skye,” Miles says, with that earnest look on his face that was once good enough to put a baby in her. “So, funny story.”
“No,” Skye says.
“Listen,” Miles says, which is never a good sentence opener from him. “Totally cool that you’ve moved on, I’m happy for you, I’m glad that you have, but-”
She balls her free hand into a fist. “Don’t you dare.”
Miles meets her eyes. And she knows that look. That stupid, determined look. “I’d like to meet my son.”
Behind her, Grant says, “Your son?”
And Skye is definitely, definitely boned. Just not in the way she wanted to be.