“How long has he been in there for?” I ask as Connor lays his sopping cheek on my chest, grabbing a fistful of my hair as he settles himself with deep breaths.
Brandon’s shoulder pops up and down, eyes never leaving the TV. “Hour or so.”
“Seems like he just wanted some cuddles.”
His gaze flicks to me, eyes rolling. “He needs to learn he doesn’t get everything he wants by crying.”
“He’s a baby , Brandon. He can’t regulate his emotions. He’s crying because he wants comfort, and we’re his safe place.” I press my lips to Connor’s hair and rub his back, rocking him back and forth. “He just wants to be close to us. He wants interaction.”
“I’m not a TV show. I don’t always wanna entertain him.”
“You think I want to entertain him every minute? It’s hard and exhausting, but we chose to have a baby, so we do it.”
“I didn’t choose shit.”
I stop bouncing as the color leaves my face. “What did you say?”
He sighs, setting his bottle down so he can sit up and drag both hands through his hair and down his face. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
He leaps to his feet, arms wide. “It’s too much! He’s too much! All he does is cry until you come back. He takes forever to get to sleep, and I lose my own sleep because of him. I just…I don’t…” He tugs his hair, spinning away from me.
“Be very careful of your next words,” I warn lowly. “You’ve walked out on him once, just to crawl back a month later. If you do it again, you won’t be welcome back. He deserves to have people in his life who love him.”
Brandon spins on me, pointing at me with a threatening finger. “Don’t do that. I love him. He knows I do.”
Then act like it , I want to scream. Instead, I walk away, pull open his door, and glance back at him. “He deserves to be surrounded by people who want to be in his life, no matter how challenging the days can be.”
That has gotta be a nine-inch dong, at least. Maybe ten.
Do ten-inch penises exist? They must, because I’m almost certain this man is packing one.
Jesus, I wonder if his back hurts carrying that around between his legs all day.
Unless it’s padding. I’ve heard they do that sometimes, fluff the junk up with padding to make it look extra big.
But no, I don’t think so. No, the arrogant, confident look in this man’s piercing green eyes says, I’ve got a huge dick and I know it.
Connor’s as fixated as I am. He reaches out, laying his tiny hand over the photo of the man’s package. The size difference is so alarming, it’s comical.
“Connor, buddy.” I take his hand and guide him back toward the bench in the bus shelter, turning my laugh into a cough. “We don’t touch other people’s bodies, even if it’s just a picture.” A gigantic picture of a gigantic dong, tucked in a tight pair of boxer briefs.
Seriously, who the hell decided a bus shelter was a good place for an underwear ad? I don’t care if the man is—I squint at the words—God’s gift to hockey, women, and underwear. What does that even mean? I bet the model doesn’t even know. He heard his monster dick would be on display and jumped at the chance.
The rumble of an engine sounds, and Connor’s head snaps up before he races toward the sidewalk. “Brum, brum !”
I grab the stroller and follow along, but it’s not the bus.
“Tuck,” Connor states proudly, pointing at the midnight blue truck as it approaches. “Big tuck!” He waves both hands, bouncing on his toes. “Whoooa ! Hi, big tuck!”
The truck pulls to a stop beside us, and a man with a grin as devastatingly handsome as it is sheepish hops out.
“Well, hey there, little buddy,” Adam says, crouching in front of Connor. “Remember me?”
“Dada!” Connor leaps at Adam, wrapping his tiny arms around his wide shoulders. When Adam laughs and lifts him into the air, something happens inside me.
It’s the strangest thing, like something mending and unraveling all at once. I feel a pull toward a future I’ve always dreamt of, a stability I’ve craved and been deprived of for too long. And yet I’m ready to throw away nearly everything I know, all that I’ve worked for, for the smallest taste of this man, to feel his hands coast the valleys of my body, to make every inch of me come alive. Because, God, I feel alive with him, and all he’s doing is standing there, holding my world in his arms, looking at us like we might be his.
“What are you doing here?” I take a hesitant step toward him, my hands shaking at the realization that he means so much to me in no time at all, no rhyme or reason, and I’m afraid this will end the way life has always worked for me: him, leaving, and me, walking this road alone. “I don’t have a car seat.”
“No, but…” He opens the door behind the passenger’s seat. “I do.”
I stare for so long, Adam winds up in front of me, two fingers touching my chin, closing my mouth, amusement shining in his eyes while Connor snickers and tries to do the same to Adam.
“I didn’t run out and buy a car seat or anything,” he quickly clarifies the longer I’m silent. “I’m not…please don’t think I’m…I’m sorry if this is too much and I scared you. My friend has five cars and a seat in all of them—don’t ask me why; he’s just super ostentatious about all things—and he let me borrow one. He helped me install it, which, as it turns out, is super fuck—uh, freaking hard. There are so many rules, but he showed me how to adjust it so we can make sure it fits Connor just right.” Adam smiles. It’s extra wide, super gritty, and all teeth, like he’s just realizing how wild this is. “I totally overstepped, didn’t I? Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to. I’m so out of my realm here. The thought of you two taking the bus home alone later tonight didn’t sit well with me, so I…I…” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”
Connor lays his hand on Adam’s cheek and pulls his hat off, letting his curls spring free, a beautiful disaster Connor wastes no time burying his fingers in once he’s tossed Adam’s hat over his shoulder. “Hair,” he says simply, patting the dark tresses. He points at the truck. “Big tuck. Beep-beep!”
Connor’s simple words clear the fog from my head. Everything is simple to him. He’s easygoing and flexible. He sees something he likes—like Adam, his hat, his hair, his truck—and he takes it. I want to be like that. I don’t want to overanalyze every detail. I just want to let go and take it.
I step around Adam, peeking at the car seat. “Oh wow,” I murmur. “Top of the line.”
“Yeah,” Adam whispers in my ear. “He’s, like…super ostentatious.”
“He sounds fun.”
He swallows. “A little over the top.”
I glance over my shoulder, and Adam’s eyes drop to mine, bouncing down to my mouth, barely a breath from his with his chin dipped low, before ricocheting back up. “Connor is thirty-two inches tall and twenty-three pounds.”