Page 48 of The Refiner

Did I just say someone needs to take care of him? I changed my mind. “Don’t get on my nerves, Astor. I’m just starting not to hate you.”

And like Tatum knew she needed to break this up, she cries.

“I got her,” Astor tells me, that big, stupid grin still on his face. “I’m sure she just wants to be held. It isn’t time for her bottle. You finish eating, and I’ll bring back something for you to sleep in.”

He sprints off before I can even correct that delusional thinking of his. In no universe will I be wearing Dr. Potter’s t-shirt to bed. I’m sure it’s comfortable and probably smells divine, but it’s the principle of the matter. I can sleep in my own t-shirt just fine.

But thirty minutes go by, and Astor never returns.

Surely they’re okay, right? I mean, Tatum isn’t crying anymore, but what about Astor and his pajama plans for me? He wouldn’t have forgotten, right?

What if he collapsed again like before? He seemed okay, but… You know what? I’m just going to check on him. If he catches me, I’ll say I was looking for those damn pajamas he promised me. This man has already seen me at my worst. I couldn’t possibly seem any crazier at this point.

Walking down the hall where Astor disappeared, I peek into a couple of rooms that aren’t Tatum’s. One is an office that barely looks used, and another is a home gym that looks really used. It’s not until I’m at the end of the hall that I find Tatum’s room.

A room that steals my breath.

A room that is identical to the nursery my sister had at her house. The wall art, the bedding… Even the rocker is the same. I thought he would just take the furniture, not move the entire nursery. The room is a replica, and there, on the floor, propped up against the crib, is a sleeping Astor.

I don’t know what Piper was doing to help him, but I can see why she wanted to. No matter how much I despise men, I don’t hate this one. I want to, but he just won’t let me with all his love and thoughtfulness. What man would do all this? Who would make sure his dead friend’s sister ate, that the nursery she took great thought in creating was used just how she wanted? He could have driven me to Piper’s without an argument. He could have hired a fancy designer to decorate Tatum’s room in light gray, so it went with the overall color scheme of his house. But he didn’t. He hung every piece of pale yellow and pink on his walls for her.

This man is honorable.

I can see that now. I can see why he mattered to Piper—why he matters to me.

I take a few steps inside the room, careful not to wake him, and peer over the crib’s rails, noting a little girl fast asleep, her father at the foot of her crib like a sentinel. He shouldn’t sleep there; he’ll wake up with a kink. But he looks so peaceful. They both do, like they just need to be in each other’s presence to rest—something I haven’t done in a week.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m sitting on the floor next to Astor, my back against the crib just like his.

I tell myself it’s just sleep I need when my head goes to his shoulder.

And it’s just comfort we seek when his hand takes mine.

Keagan

Iwake on the floor covered with a blanket.

At first, I thought my sore back was what startled my eyes open at the butt-crack of dawn.

But then I hear…

Gagging.

Astor is… oh my gosh.

“Keys! Please!” Astor begs from the changing table in Tatum’s room. “I need your help.”

I’d like to tell you I’m a better person and didn’t laugh.

But that would be a terrible lie.

I start laughing. “I can’t—”

I can’t even respond as I watch Astor’s big back heave forward dramatically. This grown man—a doctor no less—is retching like he’s drowning in a porta-potty. It’s absolutely hysterical, and I can’t do anything but fold over my knees and laugh harder than I have in weeks.

“I’m serious, Keys. I’m going to be sick.” He gags some more. “Do you want me puking on the baby?”

Now he’s beingreallydramatic. “She weighs six pounds,” I say, pulling myself from the floor. Last night’s sleeping arrangement ended with my head slipping down Astor’s shoulder and into his lap. I don’t remember him moving or even getting up to change Tatum. I must have slept hard. Who knew Dr. Potter was more comfortable than a Sleep Number mattress? “What could possibly come out of her that is so revolting?” I tease, standing and taking time to stretch the muscles in my back. Didn’t I tell Piper he would need help with diapers?

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