Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I find Atlas in the kitchen, a form fitting Titans T-shirt spread across his broad chest and athletic shorts showcasing muscled legs. He’s barefoot, hair a mess, and he’s got one hand on a coffee mug and the other bracing Grayce on the island while she slaps both palms on the counter like she’s calling a meeting to order. There’s a string presumably from Atlas’s hoodie in her fist, which she holds like a trophy, even though he isn’t wearing said hoodie. She must have liberated it at some point.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough but warm. “Coffee?”
Grayce throws up both arms like she’s cheering for caffeine. I resist a smile and move to Grayce, giving her a critical once-over. “Coffee would be great.”
“You watch the kid,” he says amiably as he moves to the coffee pot. I pick her up and nuzzle her cheek. She stares back at me not just with recognition, but with joy to see me, and I know I’d lay my life down for this child if ever requested. She coos a greeting back at me.
Atlas pours the java and slides a mug toward me. It’s black, just the way I take it, and he’s clearly absorbed that knowledge over the past week we’ve been around each other. “She’s been up since six,” he says, leaning an elbow on the counter. “She dispatched a bottle quickly and then insisted on world domination.”
I suppress the urge to laugh, and I hate that he’s so easily charming. “She’s eleven months,” I say. “Checks out.”
Atlas doesn’t hold back though and laughs heartily at my comeback.
I drop into a chair with Grayce on one knee and ignore the coffee for the moment. I never handle hot liquids while I’m holding her. I glance around the kitchen, a few boxes still left to be unpacked. Atlas readily admitted that his kitchen wasn’t well equipped, so I brought a lot.
“I’ve got a game tonight,” he says, and that surprises me, my gaze snapping back his way.
I know nothing about hockey and even less about Atlas’s role as a professional hockey player. I stare at him blankly, so he explains. “Playoffs start tonight. We play the Boston Eagles. Game is at seven thirty p.m., but I’ve got a handful of hours before I have to leave around two.”
“It’s a seven thirty game.” I can’t help it; the skepticism sneaks out. “Why do you have to leave so early? You guys just skate and…what? Punch each other?”
He snorts and doesn’t look too offended. “There’s a lot to be done before a game.”
“Such as…”
“We have meetings, watch video. There’s stretching, medical treatments, pregame meal, meditations, tape, warm-ups. It’s a whole thing.”
It sounds like a NASA countdown. “Okay,” I say, because it’s more than I expected. “A little more than skating and punching.”
“You really don’t know anything about hockey?” he asks, head tilted to the side.
“Nope, and don’t want to,” I grumble.
Atlas sighs and glances at the clock. “I have a few hours. I can at least get everything out of the boxes, maybe run to the store. Whatever you need.”
My spine tightens on instinct. “I’ve got it all covered.”
“Of course you do,” he says snidely. “What about the rest of the week? I’m sure you have a list of things you need to do, like open a bank account, get a new driver’s license. I can shoot you my schedule so you know when I can watch Grayce.”
“I can take Grayce with me,” I say aloofly.
“Jesus Christ, Maddie,” he growls. “You don’t have to carry everything. There is a point to me being a co-parent.”
“A co-parent I didn’t want,” I remind him. “And I don’t need you to help with those things. I’m more than capable of getting stuff done and watching Grayce at the same time. Besides, it’s not like I have a job or anything.”
That came out sounding entirely pathetic and I cringe that I showed him my vulnerability. I couldn’t have sounded sulkier if I tried.
Atlas scoffs, the note of disbelief evident. “If a job’s so important, then put that as your priority this week. But hey, guess what… you can’t take a baby to a job interview, so I guess you’re going to have to rely on me.”
I want to screech and pull out my hair. He’s so infuriating. “You’re just loving this, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know if that’s the word I would use to describe losing my closest friend in the world and sudden fatherhood, but I’m trying my fucking best.”
“Try harder,” I snap at him, then lean down to nuzzle against Grayce again. She’s grounding. And it makes me remorseful. I glance up at him. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you too.”
Atlas narrows his eyes at me, gripping the edge of the counter. “Why do you insist on making everything so difficult?” he asks, not unkindly.