That one makes me chuckle. “Are you going to keep up with new nicknames, or should I choose my favorite?”
Timmy rubs his bearded chin, pretending to think about it. “Nah, it’s more fun to keep you on your toes. I gotta keep things fresh.”
I roll my eyes but keep painting, the steady strokes of the roller against the wall surprisingly calming. The gray is nice. It’s soft but rich, a good neutral that’ll work well with whatever theme Haisley has planned for the nursery. I only provide the basics, such as the paint job and furniture. She can plan the rest.
Timmy steps back, hands on his hips, and squints at the wall. “Alright, maybe we don’t suck.”
“High praise coming from you.”
“Hey, I set the bar low for a reason, Himbo Hulk.”
I chuckle, finishing another section and grab my phone to check the time. We’re making good progress, but there’s still a lot to do with the furniture.
“Expecting a text from your baby mama? Or are you avoiding my award-winning commentary?” Timmy asks.
“Neither,” I say, even though he’s not entirely wrong. I wouldn’t mind a text from Haisley.
“She’s got you whipped already.”
“Shut up.”
“Hey, no shame in it. Just saying. It’s kinda cute.” He pauses, dipping his roller into the tray again. “I mean, this whole thing is. You stepping up, doing all this to keep her in your life. Not every guy would.”
I glance at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “I never even truly considered not stepping up,” I say honestly. “From the second she told me about the pregnancy, I knew this was it for me. Sure, there have been moments when I’ve wondered if my decision was the right one. But no regrets.”
Timmy nods, his usual playfulness fading. “Good. She deserves all that love and more.” Just as the conversation starts to take a heavy turn, he slaps his hands together. “Alright, back to work or I’ll get all emotional and cry into the paint.”
“Please don’t.”
He grins. “I could pull it off. Unlike you, Nordic Thunder.”
With that being said, Timmy starts singing off-key some pop songs from the early 2000s, the same ones Haisley loves. When I tell him to stop, he sings louder.
Somehow, tonight becomes another memory that will stick with me. And it’s just me, Timmy, and a bucket of paint for another hour.
39
I HAPPEN TO LOVE YOUR ROUNDING BELLY
HAISLEY
My dad was given the green light to go home today after a week at the hospital. The doctors still want him to come in and do additional testing later, but he can return to his everyday life. Well, almost. It’s still undecided how his work is going to continue from here. But one step at a time.
Once Rasmus heard the news, he offered to pick me up. And I couldn’t be more grateful. He keeps showing up without me having to ask, and I love that about him.
The second I settle into the passenger seat my body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion. I lean against the window, ready for a snooze when I realize we’re not going to his place.
I blink, checking my surroundings in confusion. “Ras, where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer right away, keeping his focus on the road. And then I realize where we are. We’re heading to my place.
I whip my head toward him. “We’re not going to your loft?”
“No, Haisley. We’re going home.”
Home.
The words hit harder than expected. For a few weeks, I’ve been living in his space, telling myself it was temporary. That I shouldn’t get too comfortable. That I wasn’t ready. But spotting the familiar brownstone, my home of more than fifteen years, I realize home is now where he is. Not here.
