Page 49 of The Way We Collide

I can’t resist teasing him. “Feeling empathetic?”

“Empathetic?” He’s briefly confused, then he quickly relaxes, kissing our daughter’s little head. “Oh, no. Haddy’s never getting married. She’s never even going near a boy. And if I ever see a stinky little boy coming around here…”

He bounces her every time he says it, and she leans forward, cupping his face in both her hands.

Pressing my hand against my chest, I try to deny the swell in my heart. I think about what I said to Amelia. It might already be too late. The sweeter he is to our daughter, the more he falls in love with her, the harder it is for me to stay detached.

“You know, you haven’t stopped holding her since we left Newhope. Not even at bedtime.”

We’ve taken to falling asleep every night in the home theater to some bedtime-friendly movie. Every morning I wake up to find Haddy in her crib and Hendrix asleep in the bed in her room or in the kitchen making coffee.

“It’s a big transition coming here, especially for a little baby. I’m her dada. It’s my job to look out for her.”

“You’re spoiling her rotten.”

“Impossible.” He rubs her back, and she rests her head on his shoulder. “Haddy’s too sweet to spoil.”

My chest squeezes, and it’s not just the way he treats our baby. Hendrix projects the image of a player, but he still tried to make our justice-of-the-peace wedding special.

It was so sterile and impersonal, and as kind as the old people helping us were, my sister wasn’t there, my dad wasn’t there.

I was a little on the brink of tears, which was completely out of character, when Hendrix reached out and took my hand.

He saved the day.

“What happens when you have to be out of town?”

“I expect you to step up, Mamma. Don’t let my baby cry.”

I laugh, walking into the kitchen. It’s dinner time, and I need to mix up her cereal. “She was always a good sleeper. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“She’s a champion sleeper. I put her in her crib, and she never stirs all night.”

Exhaling a nod, I can’t argue. “I guess she was sleeping in my room before I came here.”

I take out the envelope of organic baby cereal. Hendrix ordered all kinds of organic, non-toxic, biodynamic, who knows what else baby food from a store called Erewhon.

He follows me into the kitchen, putting Haddy in the new baby chair we got for mealtime. “You never told me what you were doing before you came here. Did you get a job at a TV station? Were you at least gaining on Jim Cantore?”

“No.” I exhale a laugh. “I got a job at a teeny-tiny station in Pierre Point, Louisiana.”

“Where the fuck is that?” I cut my eyes at him, and he quickly edits himself. “Where thefonkis that?’

“South of Baton Rouge, north of New Orleans, near French Settlement and Port Vincent. I loved it. Best people in the world.”

“What happened?”

“This little girl happened. I found out I was pregnant, and all hell broke loose. My morning sickness was so bad…” I remember not being able to get out of bed except to vomit. “I didn’t even know it could be that bad.”

“Dang.”

“Tell me about it.” Taking the warm cereal out of the microwave, I stir it with a plastic baby spoon.

Haddy watches me all ready to eat, and I squint my nose with a smile. “I was sad to leave them, but I wouldn’t trade anything for my Haddy.”

“My sister Dylan dreamed of dancing with the American Ballet Company in New York. She worked so hard all through high school. Craig was her dance partner, and they were really, really good.”

“She told me a little about that.” I think about his feisty little sister, my friend. “Then she broke her foot?”

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