The Billionaire’s Surprise Baby by Lisa Kaatz

6

Nate

To be fair, I've never been friends with a woman before. I don't know how to do it. The only women that I know either work for me or they sleep with me.

That's it. That's all I've got.

And the women who sleep with me, they don't stick around after things end to be friends. It's not exactly a desirable outcome to them, considering the way that I ghost them and never call them again. Friends? They'd like to put my head on a pike and burn my house down.

Unless, of course, I'm willing to give "dating" them another shot. There are always the gold diggers, and they don't mind how you treat them as long as you keep the designer purses and exotic vacations coming.

So trying to be friends with Sydney is going to be tricky. I don't know why but I can't get the idea of it out of my head, though. I want to prove something to her, maybe. That I can be more than a womanizing pig. That I can be a friend. An ally. And maybe even more than that, one day.

One day far, far away. Because it doesn't matter that her strawberry smoothie scented skin sends a direct message to my cock to harden and stand at full attention. The fact of the matter is that Sydney has a kid now.

A kid.

Jesus christ, she's a mom.

When I said the words aloud for the first time I thought I was going to be sick.

It's not that I hate kids. Other people's kids are fine. They're cute and funny and as long as they're not throwing up all over the place, me and kids get along great.

But I don't want kids of my own. And dating a woman with kids is basically like becoming their pre-stepfather or something. I mean, how do you even spend the night at a girl's place when she's got a kid? Do you introduce yourself to the kid, and if so, what do you say? And when the kid is young - like Sydney's baby - do you get up in the middle of the night and help her change a diaper? Or is that weird?

What would be more weird, to help or to not help?

Fuck it.

It doesn't matter because Sydney and I are going to be friends and that's it. Any thought I have of being more than that must come from my sick need for her approval. Women are usually tripping over themselves trying to get to me. They usually want me. For my money or for whatever other reason.

And Sydney? She doesn't need my money. I saw the financial numbers for Adler Co. She owns a fourth of a five billion dollar company. Soon to be more, thanks to the merger.

So fuck my money. It's no good to her.

And everything else I have to offer? My looks, my personality? From the way Sydney looks at me, I might as well be a worm on the underside of a stone to her. She fucking hates me.

She hates me.

And maybe that's what this is all about, after all. Me and my useless guilt over what I did to her.

I've never hurt a woman the way I hurt Sydney before. But then again, nobody has ever loved me the way that Sydney loved me before.

I didn't deserve her love. And I didn't love her back.

I don't fall in love and I told her that from the very beginning. I told her I didn't want anything serious. I told her a lot of things but along the way we sort of forgot the original terms of our relationship and eventually it all spiraled out of control until I felt like if I didn't put a stop to things, I'd lose myself and everything I had going for me.

So I ended it.

And I haven't been the same since.

Usually I can get over a woman by getting a different one - a hotter one - in my bed. But nobody is more beautiful, more sexy, more desirable than Sydney. It's like she ruined me. She completely fucked me up. I can't look at other women now. I can get hard, sure. It's not like my cock is broken or something. Hell no. But I can't have sex.

I tried to hook up to get over her. But as soon as I had the woman where I wanted her, about to put the usual moves on her to get her eating out of my hand and into my bed with her ass in the air and her head stuffed into my pillows, it's like I couldn't get into it. I couldn't stop thinking about how it would be better with Sydney. Couldn't get her damn face out of my head

The last image I had of Sydney before seeing her at Jax Adler's speech, was the one from when I broke things off. Her tear streaked face, red nose, and trembling lips.

It was the first time I'd ever seen heartbreak like that. Face to face. Confronted with the giant mess I'd made between the two of us and with the knowledge that no matter what I do, I'll never be able to undo what I've done to her.

That's why I can't hold it against her that she moved on so quickly after we split up. Can you blame her? The thought of her with another man makes me want to put my first through the fucking wall and that's my problem, I guess. All of that jealousy comes roaring back up in my chest every time I remember that prick who knocked her up. He was inside of her. He got to be inside of Sydney and to enjoy her and then he doesn't even have the decency to step up and be in that kid's life?

That's not a real man.

That's a coward.

Maybe through befriending Sydney I'll find out who the guy is. All I need is his name. Nobody can run from me. If I want to find you, I'll find you. And once I found him…

I grind my teeth, imagining with pleasure all of the violent things I'd do to him. But that would be just the beginning. I'd ruin that fucker. I'd make him regret the day he walked out on Sydney and that kid.

Men should take responsibility. Men should provide. Men should defend and protect. Maybe I'm old fashioned. But that's what I think. And there's nothing I loathe more than a man who doesn't take care of his own.

It doesn't matter how Thomas came into the world, what matters is he's here. And he needs a father. Every kid does.

I scrub my jaw with my hand and lean back in my chair. The office is mostly deserted right now with only a few people staying as late as me. One of those people is my assistant, Lula.

I buzz her in.

"You rang?" Lula says, walking in and shutting the door behind her.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

"If this is about the lumber delivery, I'm sorry but the warehouse made the mistake. You can take it up with them if you're unhappy, or, if you like, I can call them and cancel the order. But - "

"It's not about the lumber, " I cut in. "But now that you mention it, cancel the order and switch to another vendor. I don't care if it costs extra. I'm done playing games with those guys.”

"Will do," Lula says, making a note in her phone. "So…if that's not what you wanted, what's this about?"

"I want to ask you about your kids," I say.

She raises her brows.

"I didn't realize you even knew I had kids," she laughs.

"You have their photos on your desk," I say. "A son and a daughter. They look like they're, what, seven and ten?”

She snorts.

"Not even close," she says. "Five and three. You must not be around many kids, for your guess to be that far off.”

"I'm not," I admit.

"So...." Lula prompts me to continue.

"You're a single mother," I say.

Lula nods.

"I'm sorry, is this relevant to my work in some way? Or were you about to give me a big fat raise, given my single mother situation?"

I smile a little. Lula can always be counted on to be cheeky; she's been my assistant for five years so she's comfortable enough to tell me when I'm being an asshole. The only other woman willing to do that is Sydney.

"Tell me, do you ever wish you had...a father figure in the picture?"

Lula sighs and settles into the seat across from me.

"This is quite personal, Mr. Madison," she says. "I'm happy to chat but I need you to tell me what this is all about."

I pause, considering the massive break in professional boundaries that I'm about to make. Is it worth it?

I decide that for Sydney, it is.

"I have a woman I'm friends with," I say. "She's a single mother. And I guess I'm trying to figure out how this would all work if I were to...befriend her."

"You want to befriend her?" she asks. "You said she's already your friend."

"I guess, I'd like to get closer," I say. "Close enough to get to know her kid."

"Well that's easy," she says. "Offer to babysit."

"I don't think she would go for that right now," I say, shaking my head. "She doesn't trust me enough."

Her brow furrows.

"It's Sydney Adler," I explain. "The girl I was seeing last year?"

"I remember," she says. "I don’t remember all of your 'friends', but I remember her. She was one of my favorites. You really screwed that one up."

"Thanks."

"Sorry," Lula continues. “So she had a kid? That's great."

"But the dad isn't around."

"Yeah," Lula says. "That's hard."

"So what do I do?"

"You want to get back together with her, don't you?"

"No," I say quickly. "Maybe. I don't know. Kind of. I want to know, if I wanted to get back together, what that would take. I mean, she didn't have a kid last time and I've never been with a woman with children before. But I know it's a lot of responsibility and it's a big deal to date a single mom like that, isn't it?"

"It is," she says. "On one hand, having extra help with my kids would be great. Parenting alone is tough. But on the other hand, it's a trust thing. You'll never love anything in the world more than you love your own kids and you'd rather die than let somebody into their life who is going to hurt them. Not physically, necessarily. Emotionally."

"Like walk out on them after bonding," I say.

"Yes."

"Well, so how do I earn her trust?" I ask. "How do I prove to her that I'm not going to do something like that?"

"Consistency," she says. "You show up. Every single time. Again and again. Demonstrate that you can be dependable. That you can put a child's needs before your own. It takes maturity, Mr. Madison. And a lot of patience and time. It's not an overnight thing."

Fuck.

"So what's the first thing?" I ask. "Like can I arrange...like a playdate or...?"

"Include the kid," she says. "If you take her out on dates, maybe make it a kid friendly activity every now and again. Go to soccer games - well, maybe not for Sydney’s child, he's so young. But, you know. Participate. Show her that you can be around during the hard times and not just the fun times. I know you and about your activities with women, Mr. Madison. Fun times is all that you know how to do."

"I could learn," I argue.

"I'm sure you could," she says, rising from her seat. "And like anything else, sir, you can do anything that you set your mind to doing. You're not a quitter. So if dating Sydney Adler and getting to know her kid is what you really want, I'm sure you'll make that happen. Just keep this in mind: the pain of two adults breaking up is nothing compared to the pain of pulling out of a child's life after you've become a fixture in it. Be careful, sir. Don't go wrecking things that don't need to be wrecked on a whim."

She turns and leaves me with these words lingering in the air, feeling slightly insulted but also a little bit more equipped to approach Sydney.

Her son needs a father figure and she could use some help with the kid. I know she could, I could tell by how exhausted she looked the other night. And again the day that I went to Sycamore High and saw her in the hallway.

An idea springs to mind and I pick up my phone and dial Sydney's number.

It rings and goes to voicemail so I try her again. This time she picks up on the second ring.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I see you still have my number programmed into your phone," I reply.

"Yeah, but I changed your name. It doesn't say Nate anymore when you call."

"What does it say now? Never mind, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"What do you want?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow your son."

"Excuse me?"

"I need his help with something."

"Nate, have you lost your mind? He's six months old."

"Yes," I reply. "And that makes him the perfect helper for this project that I've got going on for one of my properties."

"Not the Heron building?"

"No, a different one."

"Which one?"

"I'll show you when I pick you up."

"You're not - what? No, you're not picking me up."

"Where are you?" I ask. It occurs to me that I honestly don't know. She's not in college anymore, I guess. So she's living in town again. But where?

"I'm not telling you where I live, Nate," she sighs. "Whatever this is...find another baby to consult with, I guess. Weirdo."

Weirdo. Yeah, I guess calling up a woman and asking to borrow her baby is a pretty weird way to approach this. Creep vibes, maybe.

Shit.

"It's an art project," I explain.

"Oh," she says. I've surprised her. "Well, that's interesting Nate but again, Thomas is six months old. He doesn't even finger paint yet. Maybe next year you can hire him on as your official art consultant or something but -"

"Sydney Adler, just tell me where the hell you live so I can pick you up and explain. Uptown?"

"Goodbye, Nate."

Click.

Shit. So it’s not going to be this easy. I was stupid for thinking so, I guess. But like Lula said, I don't give up. When I set my mind to something...

After a few phone calls to my security team, I have Sydney's current address on a slip of paper in my lap. I'm sitting in my car, programming it into my phone. When the GPS pulls up her apartment building, I'm surprised to see that it's only about ten minutes away from my own.

All this time, and she's been right there.

I look at the time. It's three thirty in the afternoon. Still plenty of daylight.

Is this whole thing a terrible idea? I don't know but I've already committed this far so I pull my car onto the road and head towards her place.

I take the stairs two at a time and practically leap towards the door, rapping on it hard and stepping back.

Sydney opens the door, wearing a baggy stained t-shirt and a pair of very short black shorts, revealing long slender legs and toenails painted cherry red.

Fuck, I want her.

"You have got to be kidding me," she hisses. "Are you really standing on my front porch right now, Nate? After I made it clear that I wasn't interested in whatever shit you've got up your sleeve."

"It's work related," I say, stepping a foot into the doorway before she can slam it shut in my face. "Isn't that what you wanted? Only talking when it's work related?"

"I thought you said we would be friends," she says, crossing her arms. "Friends don't come over unannounced and bang on the front door while their infant is asleep. I just got him down in his crib! You're lucky you didn't wake him..."

She drifts off and through the doorway I can hear the faint sound of a baby wailing.

"Great!" she says, throwing up her hands.

She leaves the door ajar and disappears to the right. I step inside, closing the door behind me. A moment later she emerges, with Thomas in a blanket in her arms. His face is still red and his eyes are watery, but for the moment he looks placated. No longer crying now that he's being held in his mother's arms.

If I had a heart, it might be melting at the sight of Sydney with him like this.

"Why are you still here?" she asks.

"You look so...different," I say, gesturing towards her.

She snorts.

"Yeah I guess I do. No time to get your eyebrows waxed when you're a mom, you see."

"That's not what I meant," I reply.

She shakes her head, going to the kitchen island with Thomas in her arms and grabbing a bottle from a rack on top of the counter.

"Make yourself useful," she says, shoving it towards me. "And mix a bottle for me, okay? Four ounces of water and two scoops of the powder."

"Simple enough," I mutter.

"Don't forget to warm it up," she says, retreating back to the living room.

I find the formula powder and start to mix things up. Nice. This is easy. Everyone always acts like baby stuff is complicated, but here I am making a bottle for the first time in my life and it's nothing. It's basically like mixing up protein powder after a workout. Measure the right amount of water. Measure the right amount of powder. Shake it up. Done.

I start towards the living room and then pause. Almost forgot to warm it up. Right. Doubling back, I throw the bottle in the microwave. How long should I microwave it for? I consider asking Sydney but don't want to break my streak of baby bottle making expertise. Two minutes should be fine, right? I don't know.

I press a few buttons and set the time for two minutes. That's how long it takes to warm up the milk for hot cocoa. Should be good.

"Everything good in there?" Sydney calls.

"Fine."

The timer beeps.

"Is that...is that the microwave?"

I carry the bottle into the living room, passing it from hand to hand like a hot potato.

"I think it might need to cool off for a minute," I say. "It's a little hot."

She takes the bottle from me and her eyes widen. She drops it on the side table and looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"Yeah, way too hot," she says with a pained smile. "It might actually be scorched, too. I'm going to make another just to be safe. What did you do? You microwaved it?"

"Yes," I reply sheepishly.

Am I not supposed to microwave a bottle? I don't know much, but I feel like I've witnessed people microwave baby bottles before...somewhere.

"For how long?"

"Um, a couple of minutes."

She giggles.

"That's a lot of microwaving for a small bottle," she says.

"It's how long it takes to make hot cocoa," I explain.

Her giggling dies down but she continues to smile at me. It's a weird moment. Almost like how things were before.

Back before she hated me.

"Thank you for the effort," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to do this. I know you don't have kids."

"I want to help," I say.

"It's okay," she says. "Really. I appreciate it though."

She gets up with Thomas in her arms, carefully picking up the too-hot bottle in her free hand and walking to the kitchen.

"Let me do that," I say as she approaches the sink.

I open the bottle and dump the contents down the drain. Her suspicion about it being scorched is correct; the white liquid is chunky and thick. I think it smells kind of weird too.

Whoops.

"Let me try it again," I say as she pulls a new bottle from the cabinet.

"It's fine, Nate, really," she says.

"Your hands are full."

"My hands are always full," she says. "I don't normally have a helper, you know."

"So let me give you a break," I say. I point to the stool by the kitchen island. "Sit. Talk me through how to make a bottle and I'll do it. I want to learn for next time."

"Next time?" she frowns.

Crap.

"Next time...like if I need to make a bottle for someone's kid," I shrug. "Your kid. My own kid. I don't know. More and more of my friends are having children now. I should know a thing or two about babies, that's all."

I'm rambling. But she buys it. No idea that I was talking about her and her baby specifically. Why else would I be hanging out with someone's kid? I'm lying; None of my friends have children.

"Take the bottle, add the ingredients and mix together. Don't shake the bottle though, that makes air bubbles. More like, slosh it around in circles in the bottle until everything is mixed together really well."

"Stirred, not shaken," I note.

"Now put the cap back on and put it in the bottle warmer..."

"The bottle warmer?"

She points to a small round device on the countertop that looks like an insulated mug with a plug to the wall.

"You have a wholeappliance for warming up baby bottles?"

"I do," she laughs. "I'm extra fancy like that, I guess."

"I'll say," I reply, shaking my head. I put the bottle in the warmer. "Now what?"

"See the button that says medium? Just push that and wait for the red light to turn green. That means it's ready."

"That simple?"

"That simple."

I let out a low whistle, pushing the button and leaning against the counter.

"I thought you didn't want children of your own," Sydney says softly.

I look up at her. She's not looking at me. Her eyes are on Thomas in her arms and she's brushing his hair to the side with the backs of her fingers. Looking like some kind of divine mother figure instead of the party animal girl that I knew before.

"I don't," I say with a shrug. "That's why I got snipped, remember?"

"I remember."

She looks up at me with an odd, sad smile.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says. "It's just funny, you helping me. You don't want kids yet you're making every excuse possible to come here and help me today. What's up with that?"

"I don't want kids of my own, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to help someone out. We're friends, remember? A friend would help you with your baby. Doesn't matter if I want my own."

"I guess."

The light turns green so I take the bottle from the warmer and hold it up in front of my eyes like a scientist with a test tube.

"No air bubbles," I announce.

"Great," Sydney says with a laugh, taking the bottle from me. She tests the heat by sprinkling a little of the liquid on the inside of her wrist. "Thank you. You did great."

"Will he go back to sleep now?" I ask watching her feed Thomas.

"Nope,” she says with a sigh. "Once he's up, he's up for a while. He'll crash later on today, maybe at like seven or eight. I don't know. It's all over the place. It changes all the time.”

"Does he sleep through the night?"

She smiles.

"Um...sort of. He wakes up halfway through the night for a bottle and a change and then goes right back to sleep. That's better than it was a couple of months ago. Those were rough nights."

"And you did it by yourself?"

"I did," she nods. "I mean, Ayla and my brothers would come over. Ayla stayed the night a couple of times, and she did my laundry. She was a real lifesaver. But I feel guilty taking advantage of that help too much."

"You shouldn't," I say gruffly. "Women aren't supposed to be all alone like this with a new baby. You should have all the support you need and you shouldn't feel bad about that."

"You're talking about the father," she says, her face darkening. "Please Nate, I'd rather not go into that."

"I just think it's messed up, that's all," I say.

I come over and take the bar stool next to hers, looking at Thomas. He looks like the most content little guy on the planet. Wrapped up in a soft fuzzy blanket. Cradled in his mom's arms. Guzzling a warm bottle. His eyes are closed and one of his tiny hands is poking out of the blanket, resting on Sydney's wrist.

"It's fine," Sydney says. "You know, if I wanted him involved, he would be. It's not like he can just forfeit all responsibility. These days, with the courts and stuff. I just...if a guy doesn't want to be involved, I don't want to force him to be. I don't need someone like that in my life. It would just complicate things and I don't want Thomas to ever feel like he wasn't wanted just because he wasn't planned."

"He could send you checks," I point out. "Thomas wouldn't even know. But it would help you pay for things."

"I don't need help with finances," she grins. “You know that though."

"I just think he should have to do something. Just because you shouldn't be able to go around getting girls pregnant without there being some kind of consequence. Even if the money didn't matter to you. Making him feel the impact, I feel like...I feel like that's only fair."

"I'm not concerned with fairness, though," Sydney says. "I'm concerned with what’s best for Thomas. With giving him the best life he can possibly have. And some guy who doesn't even want him…as far as I'm concerned that guy can stay far away from us."

"It's not right though."

"It's not," Sydney agrees. "And maybe I should have tried harder. I'll never know if what I've chosen is the right thing. I go back and forth. One day Thomas will be old enough to ask me questions and then I don't know what I'll do. But I've got time to think about it and figure it out."

"By then he'll have a new dad," I say confidently.

"I don't know about that," Sydney says.

"You'll settle down," I say. "Find some guy who will step in and do the right thing for Thomas and be the father he should have had all along. I know it."

"Maybe," she says. "I don't know. I'm starting to get pretty used to it being just us. Doing things alone was hard at first but it gets easier every day."

I don't say anything. From the way her tone has begun to falter, I can tell that I've hit a nerve and have gone too far. These are muddy waters. Maybe she doesn't want to talk to her asshole ex-boyfriend about finding a new man.

I guess this is none of my business. I forfeited the right to have any input into her life after I walked out of it and broke her heart.

"Please tell me why you're really here," she says.

"I have a project. I told you. I need Thomas's help."

"Thomas can barely keep his eyes open. I don't know what help he would be to you."

"It's easier to show you than try to explain,." I say. "I need you to come with me."

"Now?"

"Ideally."

Sydney sighs.

"Is this really about your business?"

"Our business," I correct.

"Right," she says with a nod. "Adler & Madison. I'm never going to get used to that name."

"You're going to have to, sweetheart," I say, standing up. "Because it's going to make history when I'm done with it."

"You think?"

“Talking to your brothers, they're leaving a lot of opportunities on the table," I say. "I mean, I'm sure they've done their best but they're obviously out of their field when it comes to building projects. I'm going to take us to the next level."

"And you need Thomas's help?”

"Absolutely. So let's go. I'm parked downstairs."

Sydney follows me to the door and looks down at my car and bursts into laughter.

"What's funny?"

"You think you're going to take my son in that?" she points to the vintage sports car by the curb.

"Thought so," I say.

"I don't think there's room for the carseat in that tiny thing,” she says. "And even if there was room....no. Hell no. Absolutely not."

"Right, I forgot about the car seat thing," I say, scratching my head. "Well, I could call my driver."

"Don't," she says. "Let's just take mine. It's got plenty of room and we won't have to mess with moving the car seat around. I hate that. But I can't go like this. I need to change. And pack the diaper bag."

She sighs.

"You can't just pick up and go when you have a baby, do you see what I mean now?"

"I'm starting to," I say. "But we can do it. Go change your clothes. I'll help pack the diaper bag."

"It's fine," she says. "Just...here, hold Thomas while I change and then I'll pack the bag. He probably needs to be burped, by the way."

She pushes Thomas into my arms and mild panic sets in. He's so freaking small. And light. He feels like he weighs nothing. It would be better if he was heavy, I think. He;'d feel sturdy. Less breakable and tiny.

Right. Now it's like I'm holding the world's most delicate burrito. And I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Support the head. That's all I know. I've heard that on TV a lot. So I make sure his head is in the crook of my arm before I carefully sit down on the couch with him.

So far so good. Haven't dropped him. He's not crying. Wait - is he even breathing?

Shit, is he breathing?

I lean down and put an ear by his nose and mouth, holding my own breath while I listen for his.

Whew. Yeah, he's breathing. It's so hard to tell when he's this small.

A couple of minutes pass and Sydney is still back in her room changing her clothes.

"You okay?" I call back there.

"Just finding something to wear,” she says. "You good?"

"Fine," I say. Thomas is fully awake now and trying to wriggle out of the blanket. "I think he wants to get out of the blanket, though?"

Sydney laughs.

"You can let him out," she says. "It's not a prison. Don't forget to burp him, though."

Burp him.

Right.

I can do that. It's a thing that I've only ever seen on TV, but it can't be that hard right?

I let Thomas out of the blanket he's wrapped in and he stretches his arms and yawns. Cute little thing. I can see why people are so obsessed with babies. They're little balls of cuteness. And they're not nearly as hard to take care of as people make it out to be. He's basically slept and drank a bottle this whole time. Easy.

I lift Thomas gingerly to my shoulder like I've seen it done, and then pat him on the back. He lets out a small burp right next to my ear and I laugh. Even their burps are cute. I pat him on the back some more. And then -

"Oh shit!"

It happens in a split second. One minute he's cuddled against my shoulder and burping softly, the next there's baby puke all over me, him, and the couch.

Sydney rushes down the hall, undressed from the waist up with a hairbrush in her hand.

"What's the matter? Is there blood? Is he hurt?"

"He's fine. I think he might even feel, um, better. He just..."

I stand up and look at the couch behind us.

"Just a little spit up," Sydney says. "Holy shit, Nate, you had me worried."

"You call this a little spit up?"

"I've seen worse," Sydney says, crossing her arms over her breasts. "Hold on - let me get a shirt and I'll clean it up."

"You don't need to cover up for my sake," I say with a grin. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Although it's nice to see them again. They look different. In a good way, of course. Do they permanently grow in size after pregnancy or something?"

"Don't be a perv," she rolls her eyes and disappears to the bedroom again.

When she comes out she's wearing a t-shirt again, but this time no bra. Her breasts are still on my mind; I can see them bounce underneath the thin fabric over her chest, her nipples semi hard like they're begging for me to reach out and pinch them.

“For you,” she says, tossing another shirt on the clean end of the couch.

"Give me Thomas, I'll change his clothes."

She takes Thomas and disappears again, this time behind a door in the hall that I assume must be Thomas's bedroom or whatever. I look at the shirt she's brought me. It's familiar.

I pick it up and turn it over.

Oh. That's why it's familiar. It's mine. An old sports team shirt from my college years. It's worn and soft and that's exactly why it was my favorite before it went missing.

I go to the kitchen sink and strip my shirt off, cleaning up the spit-up on my shoulder as best as I can with warm water and a towel.

"Well," Sydney says. "That was fun. Can you - "

I look up as she rounds the corner to the kitchen. She freezes when she sees me there and I can tell she's looking at my body. Checking me out, just like I thought she was doing the other day when we all signed the contract and went out for drinks.

Maybe she hates me but she's still got that animal attraction for me.

I grin at her.

"Can I what?"

"Can you put a shirt on?" she says. She gets the shirt from the couch and throws it towards me. "Please. And then hold Thomas while I clean the couch up?"

"Sure thing," I say. I take my time putting my shirt on while she watches. "Enjoying the show?"

She lets out a sort of frustrated groan and walks away, back to the living room.

The shirt feels just as soft as it ever did. But it smells just like Sydney. All strawberries and cream.

"Have you been wearing my shirt?"

"What? Of course not. It's covered in baby puke."

"Not that shirt. This one," I point to my chest.

She turns and rolls her eyes at me.

"No," she says. "I haven't. It's been sitting at the bottom of my closet for months with the rest of my Goodwill pile. I keep meaning to take the box to the donation center but the whole single parent thing has kept me pretty busy."

The apples of her cheeks have flushed deep red.

You're a bad liar, Sydney Adler.

She cleans up the couch while I rock Thomas in my arms. He looks so content. I work on a rhythm of sorts, shifting my weight from side to side and rocking him and bouncing him at the same time. Eventually his eyelids start to droop.

"Sydney," I whisper. "I think he's going to fall asleep again. Should I wake him up so he doesn't?"

"What?" Sydney's eyes are wide and she rushes over, peering down at Thomas in my arms. "Hell no, don't wake him up! This is a miracle. How did you do this?"

"The three way rocking move," I say, demonstrating. "Like you kind of shift from side to side, and rock him, and bounce him. Just like the Pirate Ship ride at the state fair."

"The what?"

"The Pirate Ship ride," I say. "You've never been on that ride before?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I shake my head and grin.

"I'll have to take you some time. The fair opens in a few weeks. You need to experience it. It's the worst."

"Then why would I need to experience it?" she snorts.

"So you know how to do the Pirate Ship move to get Thomas to sleep," I say. "Duh."

"I've tried every combination of moves there is," she whispers. "Trust me...this never happens. You must have cast some kind of sleep spell on him to get him to go back asleep."

I smile wide. Maybe I'm good at a thing or two with this after all. Struck out with the baby bottle. And then burped him until he puked everywhere - maybe that one isn't my fault though. But at last, I'm able to do something actually right.

It feels good. Sydney's looking at me like I just saved the day and it makes me feel like a million bucks in a way I haven't felt from a woman in...well, in ever.

"Do you think you could do me a favor?" Sydney asks.

"Anything for you, doll."

"Can you see if you could...put him in the crib like this?"

"Sure."

"It's not easy," she warns me. "Usually if I can get him to sleep in my arms, he wakes up as soon as I put him in the crib."

"Let's see if my magic sleeping spell extends to cribs," I say. "Where is it?"

I follow her to the baby room. It's painted pastel green with dinosaurs. Cute.

In the corner there's a white crib with a dinosaur mobile hanging above it.

"There?" I whisper.

She nods, watching me from the doorway.

I sway over to the crib, still doing my combination move. Thomas doesn't even stir as I lower him into the crib. I place him on the mattress and slowly remove my hands from him with the kind of care that someone would put into diffusing a live bomb. Holding my breath, I walk away from the crib and to the doorway where Sydney is watching with wide eyes.

We tiptoe out of the room and shut the door soundlessly behind us. We only talk once we're a safe distance from the baby room, in the living room sitting on her couch.

"That was incredible," Sydney says. "He never does that. Ever."

"Ever?"

“He sleeps on me during the day," she says. "It's the only way. The night you first saw him you said he'd sleep through anything. Well, you're right. As long as he's on my chest, he's out like a light."

"That must be hard," I say.

"It is," she replies. "Hard to be productive when you've got a baby on your chest all day long. But then again, I know I won't get this time back, so I try to...appreciate it, I guess. You know?"

I nod.

"So he only sleeps in the crib at night?"

"With luck, yes," she says. “Although that can be hard too. Look, Nate I know you came over here to 'borrow my baby' and for help with a project and all, but I can't just get up and go like I could before. You saw how hard it was just to try to get him together and get out the door. And now he's sleeping and I don't want to waste that by leaving and..."

What a change. Sydney looks like she genuinely feels guilty right now, almost apologetic. So different from the annoyed greeting I got when I first came by.

"It's fine," I say. "Please. Don't think about it. We can do this another time. That is, if you're still open to it."

She looks at me.

"Is this for real? Like you've actually got some kind of project where Thomas would be helpful?"

"Of course," I say. "I wouldn't make something like that up."

"You can't explain what it is?"

"It's...an art project," I say. "But I want to show you. I think that would be better."

"Then sure, we'll still help you," Sydney says. "You've helped me enough this afternoon. I owe you one."

Victory. I feel this weird bubble growing in my chest. Pride? Excitement? Or am I horny?

Maybe it's all three.

Making Sydney smile is almost as good as the high of an orgasm. Something about a woman who isn't won over easily just gets to me. From hatred to smiling and thanking me in just an afternoon. Who knows what kind of progress I could make in our friendship if I spend even more time with her. Helping her.

Friendship. Is that still what I want? Or maybe I want something...more.

I don't know.

Honestly, I can't say. I was all ready for a friendship the other day at the bar, but maybe I just said that so she would still talk to me. The longer I spend with her here, the more I want to pull that shirt up and take one of those amazing tits in my mouth. It's cruel, seeing those things bouncing towards me down the hall and not even getting to touch them. I know we’re trying to be just friends. But I’m a man, at the end of the day.

She's ruined me for good, because in over a year I haven't been able to look at another naked woman without thinking of her. And now it's been one afternoon with her and I'm ready to make bottles and rock babies to sleep without even the guarantee of sex.

Just friendship.

Maybe I can do that, though. For Sydney. And for Thomas.

But if I stay here any longer, I know I'm going to try to make a move. And then she'll think I'm a pig. And everything will be ruined.

"I'm going to take off," I say, rising to my feet.

"Oh," Sydney says, glancing at the clock. As though she, too, hadn't been aware of the passing of time while we were together. "Yeah, I guess it's kind of late for you. Back to the office? Or...home?"

"Home," I say. “There’s…stuff. To do. But I'll call you about the project, okay Sydney?"

She walks me to the door.

"Sure," she says. Her expression is hard to read. Though her mouth is still grinning, all of the smile is gone from her eyes and she won't look directly at me. "Thanks again for the help. Take care, Nate."

Before I can respond, she closes the door.