Page 10 of Baby Daddy Boss

“You can hold the umbrella until the end of the parkifit will please you.” She reluctantly handed over the item, and I immediately righted it to give her better coverage.

“Sure thing,” I said calmly, sipping my coffee, the lid now covered in droplets of fresh rain.

Steam rose from the hole, and its warmth kept my hand nice and toasty. She finally seemed to have readjusted everything to a manageable level in her hands, and we set off. The park was strikingly beautiful, with a light mist curling about it, only adding to the moisture brought by the showers.

The birds were quiet, save for the occasional chirp, and all the small animals were tucked away for the day. Only a few walkers were out, but they seemed to be in far more of a hurry than the two of us, unable to enjoy the rain as I did.

“So, what did you go shopping for?” I asked.

“I thought you were going to be quiet,” she grumbled.

I laughed.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “What does it matter? My house was running low on stuff. It wasn’t raining this badly when I set out, and I needed to conserve gas until my next check. I figured a walk to the grocery store wouldn’t be that bad. It turned out I was wrong.”

I glanced over at her, seeing her usual voluminous curls now plastered to her head, and frowned. She could catch a cold, especially since her jacket wasn’t exactly made for rain. It was nothing more than a thick hoodie that was nearly as soaked as her hair. This woman was a mystery.

She seemed to be struggling with money far more than I ever was at her age. But I never experienced what it had been like to work a bit through college. My trust fund paid for my college, I didn’t have the same burden that she was having, she likely had some debt from her college days. At least she has a modest stipend now, and a delayed undergrad payment plan. But still, something was bothering me. It was like she was skimping to get by.

Like the nosy jerk I was, I cast a nonchalant glance into her plastic bags. They were filled with store brands, simple snacks, peanut butter, soup, and mountains of applesauce and fruit cups. I narrowed my eyes; I had not seen her eat those this week. She usually brown-bagged a sandwich at most with some granola bar as a snack. Maybe she had just needed to go shopping.

“You sure do like fruit cups.”

I could feel her defenses slam up without even looking at her, “And so what if I do?” “Nothing, should just bring some to work next time,” I said, and there it was; why did I care so much?

I knew she intrigued and attracted me, but there was no reason for me to try to get to know her better. There was no reason for me to push her to share what she wasn’t comfortable with. But I craved to know. I wanted to know why she was so defensive, even when I was trying to be friendly. Well, friendly wasn’t exactly a term I had used to describe myself in a long time. My version of friendly often came with heavy sarcasm, even if it was benign.

“Why? Do you like fruit cups?” she asked, and I sensed no animosity, just curiosity. “I like the citrus ones the most; they remind me of home even when citrus isn’t in season,” I said wistfully, staring out into the rain.

I could feel her looking at me from the corner of her eye, “You sound like a child.” I snorted out a laugh, “You? The person who had an entire bag filled to the brim with fruit cups is saying I sound childish for liking them?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and I turned to look at her. We were approaching the end of the park, and she held out her hand to take the umbrella.

With a nod of thanks, she shifted things to be a bit more manageable before she walked away again. Yelling over her shoulder to be heard above the pattering water, “Yes, you do.”

I shook my head; I don’t think I’d ever understand her.

Chapter 8

Roseline

Iwassittingatthe dining room table an hour before I would typically head out to drop off Ciro, staring at my savings. I had a stack of bills waiting to be resolved. I bit my lip, feeling my insides tremble at the thought of how far behind I was; I’d always been drowning, but now with the T.A. job and classes sucking up so much of my life, I couldn’t keep up.

My savings, how little I had left, gave us barely any cushion and were slowly draining. It felt like all the hope I’d had at the beginning of last week was slipping through my fingers like sand. I glanced at my schedule and wondered if I could squeeze in a few extra shifts at the old diner before Ciro’s daycare closed.

I glanced at the other paperwork I had neatly stacked to the side prepared for the day. Or maybe, I could tutor a couple of students who were failing the class already. I had a few in mind.

“Would have to run that by Aldric first,” I murmured.

“Mama!” Ciro called, and I heard the patter of his little feet as he dashed down the hall. He was prepared to get me so he could get ready for the day.

He had started to enjoy going to daycare regularly. By the new year, he would be ready for kindergarten. I had already heard everything about his new friends. And he was the one to insist on getting ready early every day to make sure we had everything under control. He took after me when it came to organization.

He tugged my hand lightly. He was looking up at me with those bright green eyes of his and pouting with his lower lip.

“Use your words,” I instructed.

The bills could wait. I’d contact work, but for now, I needed to take care of the most important person in my life.

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