Page 21 of One Pucking Life

Max steps back, opening the door to the nursery, and gestures toward the living room.

I follow him out of the nursery, carefully cradling Caroline in my arms. As we move into the living room, I take in the beautiful space. Every piece of furniture is high-end, but nothing about it feels stuffy. There’s something comforting about this place. More than the surroundings, I feel content with Max and Caroline.

We settle onto the couch, Max taking a seat beside me, and I gently arrange Caroline on the sofa between us.

I sit back, still processing the unspoken connection between Max and me, that quiet moment in the nursery. I don’t know what it means. Maybe it’s just the ease of the situation, or maybe it’s something more. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is changing. I push those thoughts aside. They don’t matter. This is a job.

Max looks over at me, his smile softening as he glances down at Caroline, then back at me. “What’s on your mind?” he asks gently, his voice steady and kind.

I shake my head, offering him a small smile. “Nothing, just thinking.”

He nods, his eyes lingering on me for a beat longer before turning his attention to the TV remote in his hand. The comfortable silence stretches between us for a moment. But then, as if sensing my slight hesitation, Max adds quietly, “I’m really glad you’re here. I think this is going to work out.”

I meet his gaze, feeling a warmth spread in my chest. “Me too,” I whisper.

Max flips through the channels and stops on a rerun ofHappy Gilmore, which is an odd choice. Yet maybe an Adam Sandler comedy is exactly what we need to fill these awkwardspaces. It’s always a little uncomfortable starting a new job and acclimating into a family.

We both laugh as Happy Gilmore and Bob Barker fistfight on the TV screen. It’s been years since I’ve seen this movie, and that part gets me every time.

The doorbell rings, and we both glance toward the front door. “Pizza’s here.” I make sure Max is watching Caroline so she doesn’t roll off the sofa, and I offer to greet the delivery person.

As I head to the door to collect the food, I try to wrap my mind around my current feelings, but I’m so all over the place that it’s impossible.

When I return, the smell of pizza and garlic bread fills the air, and I can’t help but smile as my stomach rumbles. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. As I set the food down on the coffee table, Max is already arranging the plates. We both settle in, Caroline nestled between us on the couch, and I admit, this feels good.

And just like Max promised—the ranch is delicious.

CHAPTER

NINE

MAX

Ishould be at practice, but I’ve called off—again. It’s become a habit as of late. What makes today different, though, is that I actually hired a nanny. And she’s here. With Caroline.

Last night was her first night, and it was also the first full night of sleep I’ve had since Monique showed up on my front porch with Caroline in tow. I feel incredible—like an actual functioning human being again. It’s wild what a full night of sleep can do for a person.

So now that I’m well-rested and have a full-time nanny under my roof, there’s really no reason I shouldn’t be at practice. Except… I can’t make myself go. I don’t want to leave Caroline.

There’s this pressure sitting heavy on my chest. I’ve felt it before in different forms, but never quite like this. If I had to label it, I’d say it’s anxiety—but that doesn’t make sense. I should be feelinglessanxious now, not more.

Maybe it’s not just about leaving Caroline.

Maybe it also has something to do with the woman currently dancing and singing in my kitchen.

Leaning against the doorframe, I take in the scene. Caroline is propped up on the table in a foam baby seat, her little body held upright. She’s completely oblivious to the world, happily chewing on her fist while drool trails down her arm.

Delaney stands at the stove, spatula in hand, wearing small cotton shorts and a baggy white T-shirt. She’s softly singing along to something playing through her earbuds. I can’t make out the song—either I’ve never heard it before or her singing voice isn’t exactly built for clarity.

Her hips sway gently as she stirs the eggs, and my eyes drop—traitorously—to the way her shorts cling to her. Her hair’s twisted up in a messy bun, exposing the soft skin at the nape of her neck. I’m not proud of it, but the view… it does something to me. Logan would die. She’s the literal embodiment of the hot nanny trope.

But here’s the thing—I actuallyneedher. Caroline needs her. Which means I can’t screw this up.

I tear my eyes away from her and focus on my daughter instead. The last thing I want is for Delaney to feel uncomfortable in my home. As gorgeous as she is, I have to stop looking at her like that. Her job—and Caroline’s care—matters more than anything else.

Grabbing a towel from the countertop, I move toward Caroline to wipe up some of the drool on her arm. The motion gets Delaney’s attention, and she turns from the stove with a gasp, holding her hand to her chest.

Releasing a breath, she pulls out an earbud. “Oh my God, you scared me.”

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