Page 70 of One Pucking Life

Down in the kitchen, I find Caroline babbling in her high chair, smearing mashed banana across her tray like she’s finger painting a masterpiece. There’s yogurt in her hair, a spoon on the floor, and she looks entirely pleased with herself.

“Uh, Max?” I call out, glancing around the kitchen.

He pops out of the pantry, holding a new container of protein powder. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.

I stop him, holding up a hand. “You’ve got banana on your face.” I chuckle.

He swipes his palm across his cheek. “That explains why I can’t get the smell of banana out of my nose.”

I laugh. “Okay, not trying to be critical, but did Care Bear actually get any food in her mouth?”

He glances over my shoulder with mock seriousness. “Bear, did you get any food in your mouth?”

Caroline giggles and slaps her yogurt-covered hands against the tray, sending white splatters flying across the room.

Max looks back at me with a shrug. “She says yes.”

“God, you’re such a menace,” I mumble through a smile.

He grabs a paper towel and wipes his face. “Thank you. I love you, too.” This time, when he leans in, I let him kiss me.

“Can you watch her for a minute? I need to transfer the laundry,” he asks.

“Sure,” I say, watching him disappear down the hall.

I take in the chaos of the kitchen—banana smears, yogurt streaks, a dropped spoon—and shake my head with a soft smile. I turn to Caroline. “You totally know how to eat without making this big of a mess. I think you’re taking advantage of your daddy.”

I reach in and squeeze her sticky little belly.

She giggles and nods, probably because she likes the way the mushy banana feels under her chin, but I choose to believe she’s agreeing with me.

“I need coffee before I even attempt to clean this up.”

I step into the pantry and find a sticky note stuck to the front of the coffee container:

You’re my favorite part of every day. Also the reason we’re always out of ranch.

“Guilty,” I whisper, my heart squeezing.

I peel it off the coffee canister and slip it into my pocket. There’s a box on our bedroom dresser where I keep the ones thatreally make me smile. I don’t know what I’ll eventually do with them, but they feel too special to throw away.

The morning continues with Max and me moving in sync—cleaning up, bathing Caroline, and making our way over to my apartment. We grab lunch out, then the three of us take a quick trip to the grocery store, which turns into a full-blown scavenger hunt.

I throw together a simple but delicious dinner, ribeye steaks with mashed potatoes and broccoli. We spend the rest of the night playing with the baby and reading her favorite books before Max carries her off to bed, her head resting on his shoulder, thumb in her mouth.

I draw a steaming hot bath, complete with lavender bath salts, a glass of wine, a few candles, and my current romance novel. I lean back with a sigh as the jets kick on, massaging my back. I don’t know where Max got this tub—or if it came with the house—but it’s hands-down the most luxurious one I’ve ever been in. I feel like I’m soaking in a five-star hotel suite.

I’m mid-sip of wine, toes just starting to prune, when the bathroom door creaks open. Max steps inside, shirtless, holding a folded towel in one hand and wearing a familiar crooked smile that tells me he’s up to something.

“Room for one more?” he asks, his voice low and playful.

I raise a brow. “What do you have to offer? I’ll see if I can make room.”

He grins wider and drops the towel onto the chair. “Just me. But I’ll do just about anything. Name your price.”

“I like that. Come on in.” I scoot up.

He climbs in behind me, careful not to slosh too much water over the sides, and settles with a groan like he’s been waiting to do this all day. His legs frame mine, his arms slip around my waist, and his chin rests lightly on my shoulder. I feel him exhale, deep and content.

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