Page 30 of Keeping the Score

I stand. “I hope your dad is killing it at training camp.” I carry her to the living room. “Today is medicals. I remember spring training for Trevor. You don’t know him. He’s my ex. He’s a…” I pause, mindful of language. “He’s a jerk.” I remember how important training camp is. It’s when players compete for places on the roster. I remember all the time Trevor spent working out—weightlifting, agility drills, core-strengthening, not to mention the on-field training—and I remember all the disappointing years he was assigned to extended spring training because he wasn’t ready for a full season in the majors or the minors. I don’t think the NHL is like that and I don’t think Ford is at risk of not making the team, but I know he wants to do well. “Hopefully your dad…” I pause.

Fordisher dad. We may have been doubtful, but he already got the results from the DNA test he did. The results were 99.999 percent certain that he’s Matilda’s father.

“Hopefully your dad is passing with flying colors. When are you going to sleep? I have work to do, Tilly.” I’ve started shortening her name. Ford doesn’t like it. I think it’s cute.

The new nanny starts Monday, so after tomorrow I’m in the clear. I just have to make it through one more day, entertaininga baby with toys and goofy games and changing diapers. I can handle this.

“I fired her.”

I gape at Ford. “What?”

It’s a week later. I just got back from volunteering at Bright Side Animal Shelter. I had to miss a couple of days I was supposed to go in because of looking after Tilly, and I was happy to be there today with the animals. I love animals, especially dogs. There’s a new guy, a lab mix named Draco, who I took for a walk today. He’s so sweet.

I’ve been blessedly baby free as the nanny cared for Matilda while Ford was at training camp, even in the evenings when he had exhibition games. Hanna’s been very flexible and accommodating, thank goodness. I met her briefly one day and she seemed nice and has a lot of experience with babies, although she is very young. I got a little uneasy at the way she looked at Ford, but I shook that off. Ford and I are just friends, so I don’t know why I felt weirded out.

Now he’s fired her.

“Why?” I demand.

“She wasn’t working out. She wasn’t adhering to the schedule I came up with for Matilda.”

Yes, it wasn’t long before Ford had a strict schedule for the baby. And I know babies do need routine and stability, but he got so upset when she wouldn’t go to sleep at the time he thought she should, or wasn’t hungry when he wanted to feed her. I don’t know how realistic his schedule was or how he came up with it.

“Oh. But is that really that important?”

“Of course it is! Also… she…” He stops.

“What?”

He looks away and rubs the back of neck, his face etched with discomfort. “I caught her snooping in my bedroom.”

“What!” My mouth drops open.

“Yeah.” His sigh could knock over a Zamboni. “She’s a big hockey fan. Like, a crazy fan.”

“No!”

“Yeah. I was worried that she wasn’t really looking out for Matilda. She was just trying to steal my underwear.”

“Jesus!” I know I’m swearing in front of the baby, but I can’t help it. “That’s insane!”

“I know. Fuck.”

Our eyes meet. We both make a “yikes” face and shrug.

“This kid’s gonna have a mouth like a sailor,” Ford says.

I wave my hands. “You have time to get used to it and adjust your habits before she starts talking.” Whendobabies start talking, anyway? I need to do some research.

Or not. She’s not my baby.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’ve talked to a few others from the agency.” He shakes his head. “None of them sound any better.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Nobody?”

He shrugs.

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