Just as I’m playing with my baby’s hair, and plotting the possible demise of her father, there’s a knock on the door. “Hold on,” I call. I don’t care how much of a boob man Knox used to be, he’s not invited to this show.
I let Rose finish up and then snap my bra cups into place and pull my top down. “All good now,” I say. “You can come in.” The door handle turns, and he shoves it open with his elbow because he’s carrying two plates and two glasses. I make a move to help, but he waves me off with a shake of his head.
“I got this. How was dinner, Rose?” Damnit, why does he have to be so sweet? She turns her head toward his voice, and I swear she smiles, the traitor. Her separation anxiety is getting more pronounced the older she gets, but she seems to have zero issues with Knox.
As if he’s reading my mind, he brings one plate and a full glass of water over to me and sets them on the nightstand. “I hope this is ok? I figured you wouldn’t mind the privacy. The guys are all downstairs chilling. Booker and Ty are playing video games, and Whit and Ian are debating which bands from the 80s had the biggest influence on the gender bending nightclub scene, or some shit. I don’t know. Anyway, if you want to eat, I can hold her.”
He kneels on the bed and reaches his arms out. As though he’s a damn magnet, Rose launches her little body forward and crawls to him. He’s a bit awkward, at first, unsure, but his hands are steady.
He doesn’t look up at me, just focuses all of his attention on holding Rose. “I’m guessing you don’t eat a lot of hot food? So I thought you might want to, you know, eat a meal without interruption? But if you don’t like it, I can get you something else. I make a mean scrambled egg. Or I could order you pizza, or something?”
For the first time, I look down at the plate he brought. Like I told him, I’m not really a picky eater, especially if someone else cooked. But the food on my plate looks and smells divine. “Thanks. You’re right, I don’t. And this—whatever it is—looks really good.”
“I take no credit,” he shrugs, that crooked smile on display. “Whit’s the cook in this house. And when I tried to heat our plates up in the microwave, he about lost it. So, this oven-warmed dish is his version of chicken cordon bleu, I think? All I know is it’s delicious. And the bread’s homemade—no joke. And Phoebe made brownies, but they’re still cooling. And I’m rambling. God, can you tell how nervous I am? Like, I’m pretty sure my hands are shaking. Not badly. Oh, shi—sugar. Don’t worry. Like, I can hold your baby—our baby—safely. I didn’t mean that, I just…”
As Knox is rambling on, Rose is climbing all over him, tugging at his hair. I laugh. “It’s a good thing you got rid of the lip ring. She’d probably rip it off your face.”
He smiles, and I brace myself against the effect of his perfectly imperfect smile on my hormones. “And don’t be nervous. I guess that’s easy for me to say, but really, it’s true. She’s, um, really comfortable with you. I worried it might take her a while to warm up, but clearly, I was wrong.” I finish my sentence just as Rose leans into him and touches her nose to his cheek. My heart stutters and shock must register on my face. At my surprise, Knox looks stricken, as though he thinks he’s done something wrong. No matter how angry and hurt I still am, I can’t let him think that. It’s not fair to Rose. In an attempt to stop the thoughts running through his head, I put my hand out and touch his arm. Shaking my head, I explain. “She’s giving you a kiss. That’s how she does it. She sort of head-butts with her nose.”
The look of terror turns to one of pure joy and the Knox in front of me looks younger, happier, more carefree. He’s the very image of the man I remember, but I can’t go down that road. I can’t even think about that road or admit it exists. Nope. I need to make a U-turn and get the hell away from that road.
“Rose? Rosey-Posey, do you want a bite?” At the mere suggestion of food, Rose turns her head and almost topples over in her haste to crawl to me. She opens her mouth and I feed her tiny bits of cut up chicken.
“She eats real food?” Knox seems stunned at the idea.
I nod. “Yea, things like pasta or chicken or bread. Anything that can be torn or cut into little bites is good. But some fruits you have to be careful with. Like grapes and blueberries, because of the skin. But she loves bananas.”
With Rose perched in my lap, Knox looks down at his hands. “Jes—jeez. Jeez, I have a lot to learn. How do you keep it all straight?”
“The internet,” I joke. “Honestly, it’s not too bad. Most of parenting is common sense, as far as I can tell. Although I got knocked up at 18, so maybe I shouldn’t be talking about common sense—”
“Hey, look...”
“No. No, that’s my bad. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I can’t go back there, Knox. Not to our week. And definitely not to the summer that followed. I won’t bring it up again; that wasn’t fair of me.”
“Willa, it’s cool. You set the rules, ok? Whatever you want to talk about is fine with me. And whatever you can’t talk about is ok, too. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you and for Rose—I’m all in. Don’t get me wrong; my mind is spinning with a thousand questions, but I’m gonna let you set the pace, I promise.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “What kinds of questions? I mean, if there’s anything you want to know, I guess I’m the one to ask.”
“Her birthday? I feel like the world’s shittiest dad. I don’t even know my own kid’s birthday.”
“February 14th. She came about a week early. My water broke, and that was it.”
“Valentine's Day?”
“Yea. Easy to remember, right?”
He nods, but there’s a faraway look on his face and it hits me just how much he’s missed. I mean, she’s not even a year old yet, but there have been a million moments, and he hasn’t been able to witness any of them.
“You know what? I keep all her baby pictures and milestones and stuff on my phone. There’s an app I use. I should print them all out and make an album, but that’s expensive and I never have the time. I tell myself I’ll get it all done by the time she graduates high school.” He smiles at my joke. “Anyway,” I grab my phone, holding it just out of Rose’s reach. “I’ll invite you to view it, if you want?”
“Yea, definitely. Absolutely.” He takes the phone from my hand and adds his email into the open app.
“Great. Just download it and make an account and you’re all set.”
“Yea, I’ll do that tonight. Thank you. Um, God, this is awkward as hell, but, can I get your number? It’s kind of crazy to talk through Booker and Ian, right? I got a new phone, and…”
The excuse is flimsy, but I let it slide. He already has my number. Or he deleted it, which is more likely. But this is me being a mature co-parent. I rattle off my number and he taps it into his phone. Just then, Rose starts to fuss. “I need to get this little one home. It’s way past her bedtime.” Knox checks the time, and I can see the gears turning in his head. It’s barely eight, which means his night is probably just beginning, whereas Rose is settling down. I lift her into my arms, and she snuggles in close. Knox grabs the diaper bag and holds the door for us. “I’ll walk you guys out. I can drive you back, if you want.”
