“That’s a great situation.”

“It is. But sometimes it’s hard to get your shit together at home. I get distracted a lot.”

“Yeah. I think I might have heard one of those distractions during the afternoon once.” I winked.

“Ouch.” He grimaced. “And here I was, thinking I’d done a good job distracting from your initial impression of me.” He formed his fingers into an L for loser over his forehead. “Fail.”

I laughed. “Just teasing.” It amazed me how fast I’d grown comfortable around him. I enjoyed his company.

“Anyway,” he said. “The good thing about working remotely is that I can work at all hours. So if I’m goofing off during the day, I get my shit done at night.”

“It’s awesome to have flexibility like that. I’m trying to find a similar type job as we speak. Know of anyone hiring?”

“Not off the top of my head, but I can keep an ear out. What kind of work are you looking for?”

“Well, my experience is pretty much administrative work. So, maybe like a virtual assistant? But I’m open to something new. I have a degree in general studies, but I spent so many years focused on ballet that my resume is limited, aside from the couple of years I worked behind the scenes. I assumed for so long that dancing would be my career.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “That makes sense.”

I fiddled with the green stopper that had come with my latte. “Not having a job has been fine for a while. I always planned to stay home with Sunny initially, but I think it would be good for my mental health to get out of the house a couple of days a week or find something I can do from home. It’s hard to find the perfect situation. But I definitely don’t want to leave her five days a week.”

Deacon let out an exasperated breath, seeming almost overwhelmed. “A kid changes everything, huh?”

“Yeah. It really does. These six months have gone by in a blur. I feel like I’ve been in my own world. But I wouldn’t trade it. My daughter is everything.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, from the little I’ve witnessed, I think you’re doing a great job. She seems like a happy baby. You’re a good mom.”

His words made my heart flutter. I don’t think anyone had ever said that to me before. And as much as I knew I was trying my hardest every day, it was nice to hear someone acknowledge it.

“Thank you, Deacon. You’re very sweet.”

“I don’t hear that too often, but okay.”

Our eyes locked. Then he suddenly looked down at his phone. “Anyway, I’ll let you enjoy the last of your quiet time before she wakes up.”

I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to leave. Instead, I said, “I’m glad you got to know me a little today—so you know I’m more than just the cranky, cockblocking neighbor.”

“And hopefully you see me as more than just the manwhore next door.”

“Not quite yet.” I winked. “But we’re getting there.”

He chuckled. “Take care, Carys. And if you need anything from the outside world, just say the word.”

My brow lifted. “What’s the word?”

He scratched his chin. “That would have to be…monkey balls.”

I cackled. “Ah. The perfect choice.”

As he headed to his apartment, I called after him, “Thanks again for the diapers and coffee.”

He turned around to face me, walking backwards and flashing a gorgeous smile that made my heart ache a little. “Diapers and coffee. Can’t say I’ve ever been thanked for that combination before.” He winked. “My pleasure.”

After I closed the door, I leaned back against it, catching myself mid-swoon.

Really, Carys? You’re pathetic.

Don’t even go there. He wouldn’t touch this situation with a ten-foot pole. Leave it to my starving heart to take a man’s charitable gesture and turn it into the beginning of some unrealistic romance.

After I polished off the rest of my coffee, I opened up the bag of diapers he’d brought.

There was more than just the package of Luv’s inside.

He’d thrown in a little stuffed Peppa Pig.

And some earplugs.

CHAPTER 2

Carys

BABY WHISPERER

A couple of weeks later, Sunny had a pediatrician appointment downtown late in the afternoon. Since we were out and about anyway, I took her to meet my friend Simone for an early dinner at a restaurant near the doctor’s office.

“How did her appointment go?” Simone asked as she perused the laminated card that listed today’s specials.

“Six-month checkup went great. The doctor says her weight is right on target for her age.”

“I’m so glad.” She looked up from the menu. “And how are you?”

I paused, momentarily stumped as to how to answer that. “Good…good.”

There was no point in venting about my day-to-day problems. Simone and I were in two different places in life, and she likely wouldn’t understand. As one of the city’s top ballet dancers, Simone was where I would have been had I not been injured: an elite principal dancer, performing at night, sleeping in most mornings, and attending rehearsals in the afternoons, in addition to having an active social life. In many ways, I lived vicariously through her. So, instead of admitting that most days I felt lonely or worried about my finances, I just responded with good.