“You know, I was thinking . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip, and I tried not to stare at the luscious pink curve. “The rest of the house feels so homey and lived-in. Maybe we could spruce up Dylan’s room a little too? I mean, I don’t know what your budget would be—”

“That sounds like a great idea.” I sipped my wine. “Do whatever you want.”

“You don’t want to have some say in it?” she asked with a frown. “It is your child’s room, and I don’t want to impose.”

I furrowed my brow and shrugged. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to start. So have at it.”

She laughed, a clear, ringing sound that skimmed along my skin and made my posture relax a little more. “Well, why don’t we experiment a little?”

I stared at her, forcing the filthy thoughts of all the ways I’d love to experiment on her from my mind as I waited for her to continue.

“We could both design a room for her, maybe. Have you ever been on Pinterest?” she asked.

This time it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah . . . no. That’s the site where women put pictures of coffee cans that they made into flower pots or something, right?”

“Sometimes.” She lifted the laptop from the coffee table in front of us and handed it to me. “Here, I have it on my phone, and you can use the one on my laptop. So basically, it’s just like an image search. You look around for fun ideas and make a board for them. I’ll even make yours for you.” She leaned across me, brushing her chest against my arm as she moved. Her hair fell in front of her face, and the lavender smell of her shampoo took hold of me again, sending a rush of blood pulsing to my cock.

I shifted, leaning forward to take another sip of my wine, thanking the gods that her computer was hiding my lap from view.

“There.” She looked up at me. “Now enter some search terms like ‘cute baby room ideas,’ and then use the little red push pins to add things to the board. It will give me an idea of the type of stuff you like. I’ll do one too, and in a few minutes, we’ll compare and see what we come up with. Ready?”

I nodded, then racked my brain, thinking of what would go best in Dylan’s room. I wanted it to be nice—not too frilly, and definitely not all decked out in pink decor and crystal chandeliers. Something she could grow into and enjoy.

I picked my pins carefully, and by the time Addison announced the time was up, I was feeling pretty damn confident about my choices.

“All right, who goes first?” she asked.

“I’ve got nothing to hide.” I shrugged and turned the screen toward her.

She glanced at it, then at me, then at the computer again.

“A big-screen TV? She’s one, Max. Plus, you only have three pins,” she said. “We’ve been looking for like twenty minutes.”

“The TV is for when she gets older. Or if she wants to watch Barney or something. The dude kind of freaks me out, to be honest, but hey. Kids like him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And the Bob Dylan poster?”

At that, I paused, weighing my options. This was the can of worms that I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to open.

“The baby’s namesake.”

Addison’s eyes softened, and she lowered her phone to her lap. “That’s really sweet.”

Silence filled the air, heavy and pronounced, and when she opened her mouth again, her gaze was thoughtful.

“I know it’s not my business. That said, I had wondered . . . if something were to ever happen to you, I know I have your parents’ numbers, but—”

She broke off, but I knew the words she would say before she said them.

“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.”