Page 68 of Power Play

Downstairs, the baby is in her bouncer, kicking her chubby little legs. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a gymnast like my brother. Or a track star turned rugby player like my sister. I won’t say no if she takes a shine to hockey, either.

And if she decides athletics aren’t for her, I’ll support that, too. I will always love her unconditionally.

I tickle Emmy’s chin before heading to the kitchen. There’s a pot of coffee on, with exactly one cup left. After emptying the carafe into a mug, I take a sip and glance at Riley, who’s sitting at the Formica kitchen table with a laptop.

“What do you have planned for today?” I ask casually. It takes everything in me not to go to her, to pull her into my arms and beg her to be mine. I heard her loud and clear. Nobody likes a guy who can’t take no for an answer.

“Nothing special. Just playing and nap time.”

“Sounds like a great day.” A nice, chill day is perfect. As much as I’d like to get out and do something together, maybe hanging around the house is what we need. “I’ve got her for a few hours if you want to take a nap, or maybe a bubble bath.”

Riley’s eyebrows climb up her forehead. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Giving you space. You’ve been the default parent for the last few days. If you need a break, I’m here. I can handle Emmy today. You deserve some time to yourself.”

Fuck knows this weekend will be busy, with the team holiday dinner and then a matinee game a few days after.

A strange look passes over her face. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’ve got this,” I assure her. “Rest, relax. Do something fun for yourself.”

She blows out a breath. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Thinking about my schedule, I laugh. “Well, anytime I’m home, that is. If you want to revisit the nanny situation, I’m still game. It’s got to be exhausting being on duty all the time. Everyone deserves a break now and then. I want you to feel supported, not chained to the baby.”

She opens her mouth—to argue, most likely—but I raise my hands in the air. “Childcare is a full-time job, and then some. You don’t get enough of a chance to decompress when I’m not here. If there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you, I’ll do it.”

Whatever it takes to keep her from running screaming, burned out and exhausted.

Riley shuts her mouth, her nod brisk. “Got it. Thanks.” She closes the laptop, pushing back her chair. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

She stalks out of the room and up the stairs, her footsteps echoing.

My stomach sinks. All I wanted was to help, yet I think I made this worse. What the hell am I supposed to do now? How do I fix this?