Page 42 of Moms of Mayhem
“Yes, actually.” I dragged the changing table box down the aisle between the reformers. “I checked on it last night to make sure I wasn’t violating my policy, and we’re all good.”
“Except for the wholewho’s going to watch the babiespart.”
“I’ve got it covered.” I dropped the box with a loud thump outside the bathroom. Luckily, it was large enough to accommodate the new piece of furniture, so I grabbed the toolbox from my office and sat down on the floor, ready to assemble it.
Bygot it covered,my plan was multi-faceted. Shannon was on the schedule until six tonight, and I was secretly counting on the fact that this tough as nails woman actually loved children. Like, had a hard time walking past a baby on the street without stopping and talking to them, never in a baby voice, always teaching. Stevie’s little girl was adorable, and I had no doubt Shannon would crack the moment Stevie walked in the door with her. If all else failed, I was prepared to hold the baby myself for an hour.
Now I just had to hope Stevie actually showed up.
Between setting up the little play area in the studio andteaching classes, the day flew by. Pink light filtered through the front windows as the sun set over the mountains, and I looked at my watch every ten seconds or so while I wrapped up my last class of the day.
“If you enjoyed today’s class, I teach the same level at four on Thursdays, and it fills up fast, so make sure you’re on the list!” I said to my class as they wiped down their equipment, then hurried to the front desk. “Any word from her?”
Shannon shook her head, casting a glance at me. “You going to be okay if she doesn’t show up?”
“What?” I scoffed, trying to play off how disappointed I already was that we hadn’t heard from Stevie at all. I’d told her to just show up but had been holding out hope that she’d call to confirm. “Yes. I’m fine. If she doesn’t show up, I’ll go watch Jace practice like I was planning to. But I’m staying positive. If a team of Jamaican track runners can make it to the Olympics for bobsledding, then I can make a new friend as an adult.”
“I swear you live to annoy me.”
I pointed a finger at her, barely containing my smile. “Cool Runningsis as classic as Shania Twain. I’ll allow no Sanka slander.”
Shannon held up her hands, then stepped away from the desk to go through closing activities for the night like she normally would.
I stood at the desk, flipping through my phone. Ty had picked up Jace like I asked, and my son’s little tracking bubble showed he was at the rink like he was supposed to be. Even though I was dying for this to work out with Stevie, I was also curious to know how practice was going.
Ty had agreed to coach with Beckett like I knew he would. I might have fought harder against this idea if I didn’tsecretly think it would be great for Ty to pick his head up from all the responsibility he carried for literally everyone in town.
Yes, coaching was another huge responsibility, but Ty loved hockey in a way he did not love the hardware store or any of the multitude of things he signed up for. Retirement had been an adjustment for him, and I still felt like he was scrambling to fill his days so full he didn’t allow himself time to miss it.
And besides, Ty loved my son. Adored him, even. I might have struck out for my kid on the whole,sorry your dad is a piece of shitthing, but at least I’d given him the best uncle to ever exist.
I fiddled with the sound system until soft piano music played over the speakers, something that would be relaxing for both Stevie and her little girl. A wave of nostalgia hit me as the soft tunes played, and I picked up my phone, looking back at the picture of Jace from this morning.
When I went to zoom in on his happy face again, my thumb slipped, and suddenly I was staring at Beckett up close instead.
God, he was stunning.
That scruffy-but-suspiciously-well-groomed beard framed a jaw so sharp it could probably cut through my better judgment. And those bright, impossible blue eyes holding a hint of mischief had me so flustered I let out a tiny moan.
“You okay?” Shannon stuck her head out from behind the partition.
I scrambled to minimize the picture, clicked the wrong button, and somehow opened my own camera instead. So now I stared at an unflattering version of my panickedfront-camera face while still thinking about his stupidly perfect one. “Yep. I’m good.”
Shannon’s brow scrunched, then movement on the street caught her attention, and I followed her gaze to the front door. Stevie stood outside, carrying a red-faced baby girl and a worn-out expression.
I hurried out from behind the desk to get the door for her, my smile big enough to blind a NASA satellite and maybe distract from the fact that I’d nearly cried over a man’s jawline ten seconds ago.
“Hi!” I chirped, my voice two octaves too high.
“Hey,” I tried again, this time channeling my bored teenage son mid-eyeroll, then cringed.
“I’m so glad you made it!” Third time was the charm, and this time I sounded onlyslightlylike a Pomeranian who might pee on your foot at any moment.
Stevie rocked back and forth, staring at her daughter who had stopped crying long enough to give me the stank eye, as if she remembered I was the one who’d thrown coffee on her.
Harper had deep brown eyes and blonde hair peeking out from under a tiny beanie. She had little snow boots on over what looked like a fleece one-piece pajama set with snowmen on it.
“I almost didn’t come,” Stevie said. “Teething is killing us this week, and Harper is on one today. She wouldn’t even let me get her dressed.”
