Page 9 of I Knead You Tonight

Drew mentioned she was behind on her bills, but I didn’t realize she wasthisbehind on them.

The guilt seeps in just a bit more.

Glancing around the room, I begin picking it apart.

The paint is peeling, and there’s a bucket in the corner clearly placed there to collect the water dripping from the ceiling. Cabinet doors are missing. There’s a musty smell Drew’s tried to cover with the candles littered about.

It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen, but it’s not ideal, especially with the lack of heating.

I step farther into the room, looking over the very personal items strewn about.

It’s mostly kid toys—rattles and other noisy shit—but there are a few things of hers lying about too.

A romance novel is splayed across the arm of the couch, holding her spot for whenever she gets another free moment to read, something I know she used to love doing.

A grocery list and a pen with a mercilessly chewed-on cap sit on the coffee table next to an abandoned blue bracelet and a pair of earrings.

A single photo of Drew and Riker in the hospital sits in the center of the small entertainment center next to an old, outdated laptop.

Other than that, the place is sparse.

No decorations. No other photos. Nothing.

She doesn’t even have a bed for crying out loud. She’s been sleeping on the couch.

It’s like she doesn’t plan to be here long enough to settle in.

The door behind me rattles as Drew tries to push it open and I pull on the knob, knowing her hands are going to be full of Riker and his things.

“Thanks,” she mutters, barreling through the door. “I’ll just grab some of his stuff real quick and we can get going. It’s way past his bedtime.”

“Just tell me what he needs, and I can grab it.”

“It’ll be much faster if I do it. You have no idea what’s what.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not incompetent, Drew. I can deduce what a baby does and doesn’t need.”

“Fine.” She turns her lips down at the corners, hating to accept the help but knowing it’ll be better in the end so she doesn’t risk waking up the baby.

I roam around the room, stuffing some diapers, formula canisters, bottles, wipes, plenty of clothes, blankets, and a few toys into the two different diaper bags I find as Drew coos and sings to a sleeping Riker.

“Shit, Winston, how long do you think we’re staying with you?”

“As long as you need to,” I answer simply.

I pull open the only two drawers on the small, raggedy dresser that must belong to her and she squeaks from behind me.

“Wait! Those are my drawers.”

“Yes,” I say, holding up a pair of baby blue lacy underwear. “I assumed this isn’t something Riker would wear.”

“Put my panties down,” she urges through clenched teeth.

“Relax. It’s not like I’m going to stand here sniffing all your underwear in front of you.” I tuck the lacy garment into my front pocket. “I’ll save that for later.”

“I hate you.” She shoots a fiery stare my way, wanting so desperately to charge at me and wrestle the panties from my pocket but knowing there’s nothing she can do about it right now.

I grab a handful of underwear and socks, shoving them into another bag I found. I grab some tees and pants, enough to get her by.

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