Page 30 of Raising Love
“I stink,” I said aloud, lowering my gaze to Baby Love. “Thanks to you.”
He opened his little mouth and let out a yawn, which made me smile.
I never really understood people’s fascination with babies. Sure, they were cute, but beyond that, they didn’t seem to offer much besides their presence.
But in Baby Love’s case, that presence was enough.
Before all this, I would have never decided to have a baby of my own. But after spending the last month and a half with him, I started to understand the hype. I got why people chose to have them on purpose.
Everything about him made me oooh and awww. The way he’d started trying to lift his head whenever I walked into his nursery in the mornings. The way he yawned—his little mouth opening as wide as it could, but still looking so small.
The only thing I wasn’t a fan of? His spit-up. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it always managed to get on me. The longer it mixed with my skin or soaked into my clothes, the sourer the smell became.
And today, he’d gotten me good.
“I need a shower,” I said, cradling him in my arms as I stood from the rocking chair.
It had been two weeks since I’d been to Free-Throw Nation’s office. Over a month since I’d covered an on-court game. My life had been turned upside down. Tomorrow, I had a meeting with my producer to discuss my future there—a future that, from where I stood, looked bleak.
I sighed, walking to the nursery door and pulling it open.
My goals before becoming one-half of Baby Love’s guardianship had been crystal clear: move up at Free-Throw Nation and earn a seat at the anchor desk. But at this rate? The only seat I’d be getting would be on the sidelines at Baby Love’s future youth basketball games, surrounded by other moms and caregivers.
Honestly, I felt like I was the only one giving up so much.
Leo hadn’t changed a single thing since we became guardians. The only thing different about his life was his zip code. Every chance he got, he was in the city—partying, making club appearances, living his best single life.
He hadn’t even suggested a name for the baby. We were still calling him Baby Love.
On nights like this, I usually toughed it out on my own. Leo was either playing a game in the city, attending sponsorship events, or partying. Oddly enough, he was home tonight.
And that was a blessing, because I desperately needed a shower.
“Geoffrey?” I asked, peeking down at Baby Love. “Nah, you don’t look like a Geoffrey. Maybe Morgan?”
His eyes locked on mine, and a little smile tugged at his lips.
“You like that one?” I asked. “Morgan? Sounds kind of girly to me. I don’t know.”
Without thinking, I found myself in front of Leo’s door. I needed a shower—badly—and instead of knocking, I turned the knob and walked right in.
I hardly ever went into Leo’s room. Since he was rarely home, there was never a reason to.
The door opened easily, and there he was, sitting at his desk with his back to me. His head bobbed up and down, oversized headphones covering his ears. Muffled music blasted at full volume.
I passed his massive flat-screen TV and entertainment center, breezing by the sports memorabilia and awards he’d brought from his loft in the city. His king-sized bed was unmade—not surprising—and I didn’t even bother commenting on it.
As I got closer, I noticed the piles and piles of LEGO bricks scattered across his desk.
“What in the world?” I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.
Leo’s head snapped up. He jumped in his chair, visibly torn between lowering his headphones or hiding the LEGO bricks.
My jaw dropped as my smile widened. “Oh my God! Is your grown ass playing with Legos?”
“Yo!” he said, jumping to his feet and yanking the headphones off. “Do you not know how to knock?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off what he was building.
