Page 49 of Push

I’d done the same thing. I was my father. The clinic had given me an excuse to disappear when jokes and orgasms hadn’t fixed Gwen. The attention I’d craved was easy enough to find elsewhere. Gwen needed proof she could trust me with the secrets eating her up inside, and I’d failed to hand her the receipts.

One more flaw on my list to talk about with the psychologist.

I zipped Noah’s buggy down the concrete path. My feet ached from a busy day of laundry, cooking, and Gwen’s never-ending to-do list. Only one thing was left—Stroller Squad.

I glanced around the park. The sun warmed my skin, just enough breeze kicking up for me to pat myself on the back for stuffing Noah’s coat in the baby bag. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I swung around the bend. A group of women gathered under one of the gazebos. A few more—and a guy—stretched out on blankets scattered over the grass. Some had babies propped on their hips, and a neat row of strollers was parked nearby.

This must be the right place…

I wheeled closer, and one by one, the women turned, narrowing their eyes on me.

“I thought Gwen was joking,” one muttered.

Uh-oh.

A woman with a blonde ponytail bounced over. She waved at the stroller. “Hi, Noah!” Her huge smile faded into a glare when she looked up at me. “And…you.”

My eyes darted over the sea of scowling faces. I swallowed, but my throat was drier than Noah’s fresh diaper. I’d never set eyes on a single one of them, but they sure as hell knew who I was.

“Um…” I gulped. “Hey.”

The guy in the group jumped in front of the angry mob. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and he wore the stylish dad’s uniform of jeans, a black tee, and a blazer. His scare factor was minimal compared to the mums glaring at me from the gazebo.

A shy smile broke across his face. “Hey, mate.” He pushed his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose. “First time here on your own?”

“First time here ever,” I admitted.

The guy pointed at a chunky baby with a shock of dark hair crawling around on a picnic blanket. “That’s my son over there. Alfie’s the one munching on a—” He did a double-take. “Farout. I’m pretty sure that’s a stick. Can’t leave ’em for a second, right?” He rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. “I’m Zach.”

I didn’t think twice before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Zach.”Thank Christ for the olive branch.“Toby.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Everyone here, uh, kind of knows you.”

“Sure seems that way.”

“Gwen asked everyone to play nice, but… You know how it is.”

I stared at him blankly. I really didn’t.

Zach grimaced and added, “Word travels fast in the group chat.”

“Oh, is that what Stroller Squad is? You guys have a group chat?”

Zach nodded. “My wife set it up. Eden. She thought it was important for mums and dads to connect and get out of the house. And I say ‘dads’ like there are hundreds of us orsomething. I’m currently Token Dad.” His laugh was bright and easy. “We catch up every second Monday and talk baby stuff. The kids are a bit young to play together yet, but it’s good for them to socialize early, you know?”

I didn’t know. I had no bloody idea.

“Come over.” Zach nodded at the blanket. “Hang out for a bit.”

I bent down and unstrapped Noah from his buggy, his arms and legs flapping before I plopped him next to the other baby. Zach wrestled the stick from Alfie’s stubborn fist and replaced it with a rusk hidden in his pocket. His eyebrow rose when he produced a second, and after I lifted a shoulder to say, “Sure,” he passed it to Noah. The guy was Pro Dad.

“So,” Zach said. “Gwen’s got job interviews today?”

“Yeah, how’d you—”

“The group chat.” He let out a low chuckle. “Nothingescapes the group chat.”

I swallowed. “Nothing?” I darted a glance at the women still glaring a hole into the back of my head.

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