This Baby Business

“Hell if I know,” Matt said with a shrug. “But you can’t do this on your own. You know that, right?”

“Why the hell can’t I?” There again, he resented the fact that no one seemed to have the slightest bit of faith in him as a father.

While he told himself that they were all trying to help, when Matt and Sarah or Emily and Stone showed up on the occasional weekend and shoved him out the door for some R & R, he fought it every time. Grace was his deal, his responsibility, and not theirs. And he did not fall down on his responsibilities. Plus, he could handle it, lack of sleep included. He already had enough of the lack of confidence in him from Sandy’s parents and didn’t need his buddies questioning him, too.

“You’re a guy.” Stone slid him a look as if those three little words explained everything.

“Wake up to the twenty-first century. There are single dads doing this every day, and doing it well.” He tore off a piece of paper from the airplane and wadded it up between his fingers.

“Maybe so, but it wouldn’t hurt you to think about settling down now. With a good woman.” This was from Matt. “And I don’t mean the beach babes you normally hang with.”

“What the hell? That’s my favorite kind.”

Matt quirked an eyebrow. “You need a woman with an IQ bigger than her tits.”

Levi scoffed. “This is about what I expected from you whipped fools. Never would have thought I’d see both of you settled down like a couple grandpas.”

“Hey, life is good.” Matt crossed his arms behind his head, his I-got-laid grin full throttle.

Stone gave Matt a censuring look, and Levi took that time to wet his spitball.

“You going to see Lily again?” Matt said. “Who knows. Maybe this could be the one.”

Lily did seem nice, so too bad he didn’t believe in the one. She worked events at the ranch Emily’s family owned, and they’d been introduced a week ago. They’d had coffee at the Drip, talked for a couple hours. Levi was supposed to call her next week to set up dinner. He didn’t expect much. In fact, he’d had more chemistry with Carly while bonding over a baby crib, which said something.

“I’m never getting married. It’s the single life for me.” Levi scoped out his aim and best shot. It was looking like Matt for the win, which was perfect.

Most of his friends wanted him to slow down. And he understood the reputation he had, though much of it had been greatly exaggerated. For instance, it wasn’t true that he’d taken two women home after a bar fight in Yonkers, New York, two years ago. The bar fight part was true, since some jackass had been slapping a girl around. But the rest of it? Levi had never found out how that particular rumor started.

Matt opened his mouth as if to add something when the spitball Levi aimed hit him square in the nose and fell to his lap. “Well, shit.”

The conversation went downhill from there.

A few minutes later, Emily opened the door and caught all three of them in the middle of Spitball War Z.

“Not again.” She shook her head. “You’re cleaning that up.”

“Enough.” When Emily shut the door, Stone threw his last volley, which Levi caught in midair.

After the meeting in which they’d discussed the planes that most needed work, picking up more plane inventory and how they might best accomplish that with little or no money, Levi had a flight lesson scheduled with a retired software CEO from the valley who’d recently purchased his own plane. Before that, he grabbed his phone to check in with Carly.

When he heard Grace crying in the background, it was all he could do not to run out like a jet at Mach speed. “Something wrong?”

“She’s okay. Okay, that’s okay, baby,” Carly said, sounding a little frantic herself.

He got that. Grace’s wailing could even make him break out in a trickle of sweat when she carried on for hours.

“I’ll get her down for a nap now,” Carly said. “Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

He hung up and found a desk to check his email. As anticipated, another one from Frank Lane. God forbid he should pick up his phone even one of the many times Levi had tried to call him. This one suggested that Levi retain a lawyer, because Frank would sue for custody if it came to that. To pile on the guilt, he mentioned that Grace’s grandmother cried for her daily. He hoped Levi felt good about that.

Levi felt like a pile of dog shit.

Of course, he couldn’t afford a lawyer. Levi fired off a response, inviting both of them to visit him in Fortune yet again, but clearly stating that he would never give up his daughter.

Maybe this time the message would get through.

* * *

SO FAR, ALL was not going according to plan for Carly.

Why was Grace always crying? That couldn’t be normal. Carly consulted the baby bible section on teething. Grace had gone through no fewer than five cold rags she gnawed until they were no longer cold. They entertained her but did nothing to stop the crying.

She had growing sympathy for Hot Dad. If he had to deal with Grace all night, he had to be working on fumes. A girl wouldn’t know that, though, if she went by the way he kissed. That kiss had scared her a little bit, given that she’d been hot and bothered within seconds. Not the reaction she’d expected. Loneliness and desperation had weakened her. That, and the way Levi had checked her out, his heated gaze sliding over her as if he’d seen a cookie he wanted. As if he’d die without a bite.

But she needed to stay away. After months of juggling nothing but responsibilities and heavy commitments, she would sell this baby business and pursue her own dreams. Her life. Besides, she and Levi both had people who depended on them and who needed to be put first. She had her father, and Levi had Grace.

They’d settled into a bit of a routine after that hot kiss, one that didn’t include any more of those kisses. Every afternoon Levi picked Grace up right on time, threw her up in the air, then caught her. Grace would squeal and laugh for the first time that day. Carly would pretend it didn’t scare her to see Grace airborne. They’d talk a little bit about his search for a permanent babysitter—which, frankly, was not going well—and about Grace’s day, then go to their respective corners. He and Grace to his house. Carly to her sewing machine, where she had a little fun before hitting her business chores after dinner.

Interestingly, he’d not taken her up on her offer to babysit evenings. She supposed that meant he wasn’t dating anyone yet. Thank God for that, because she’d offered in a moment of over-the-top selling of her idea. She didn’t want to facilitate his getting laid. Carly was the one who needed to get out more. She missed her clothes. Marc Jacobs, Kate Spade, Louis Vuitton and all their cool friends were sitting in her closet collecting dust.

Carly sat at her laptop to do what she did best. Also known as stalling. In the background, an old but favorite episode of Never Wear This played. On one hand, she wasn’t sure why she bothered with the blogging. The posts took forever to compose, and her post on the best diaper for babies’ skin had a whopping one comment. It was from someone who claimed to know the secret to making a million dollars, tax-free. Not one comment from a weary parent looking for advice. Or hope.

As usual, she squeezed the words out one by one. She’d put a sentence together, living by spellcheck, and hoping her grammar was decent. It was never simple, not for her, and felt like being in high school again. Insecure. Inadequate. This wasn’t what she should be doing with her life anyway. She’d always wanted to pursue graphic arts or fashion design. That was in her blood and, though hard work, was something she could do well. She’d gone away to school to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. Everything had been going so well there, too, but then even that had blown up in her face. Something she didn’t want to think about right now.

Giving up on the words after a few minutes, she padded into the spare bedroom and her sewing corner—the place where dreams went to die. The half-dressed mannequin wore part of the design she’d been working on before Pearl passed away. Despite her failure, she’d kept at it, the pleasure at creating never completely leaving her. Only her confidence had been shattered. And unfortunately, her fashion prowess, should she manage to get it back, would not be of much help when it came to the world of baby products. But frankly, if she had to choose between an empty screen and playing on her sewing machine, the choice was a no-brainer.

It had been far too long since she’d torn something apart and put it back together again. Levi had been right in that the red baby dress was beautiful but impractical. She’d seen a lot of that in the months since she’d taken over RockYourBaby. Carly held up another one of the baby dresses from the lot that had been shipped to her.

She cut into the dress, ripping seams and removing sleeves. Found a piece of a soft white cotton with a flowery print that she’d bought at the fabric shop in town the last time she’d been in there. Seemed like ages ago. She could replace a velvet sleeve with a cotton one. Carly went to work cutting out pieces and holding them up. Okay, weird. But somehow it worked. She held it up and admired the juxtaposition of solid red velvet and flowery cotton print. It still needed...something. Maybe ribbon or lace.

She’d always loved this part of fashion. Seeing something in a brand-new light. Satin and denim...leather and lace. She had no doubt it was what she’d be doing right now if she had a choice. She could do it all right here from her sewing machine. One thing for sure—she didn’t want to run RockYourBaby.com. That was her mother’s dream, and Carly couldn’t hang on much longer.

Finally, Carly finished and forced herself away from her sewing machine to trudge to the computer screen. She leafed through the baby bible for almost an hour but found nothing inspiring to give to her readers. Nothing to turn their boring, mundane lives into something interesting, or even to remind them that what they were doing was important. She imagined that when it came down to it, raising a baby was all about routine and not much about fun.

What was that saying about a picture being worth a thousand words? A thousand words were really all she needed for this post. Grabbing her high-resolution camera, Carly took photos of the baby outfit she’d just sewn together. Not bad. She downloaded them to her laptop and uploaded them to her blog. It looked okay, frankly, even without any words. She hit Publish.

Grace wailed, awake from her nap. When Carly reached the crib, Grace had rolled over onto her stomach from her back. What’s more, she looked immensely pleased with herself, her chubby little legs kicking.

“Daahh...dah,” Grace said, then blew a raspberry. “Bff.”

At least Carly had the diaper changing routine down. It hadn’t taken long to figure out as it wasn't exactly rocket science. She’d done her share of babysitting younger cousins years ago. And some baby care, she had come to realize, was so routine that it could be a little mind-numbing at times.

Maybe they needed a change of scenery. She could take Grace for a walk. Not exciting, but at least it got her outside the house after months of nearly hibernating. Jill and Zoey, her two best friends, had tried to get her to go out more, but Carly hadn’t much wanted to go out and celebrate being young and alive when she’d still been grieving.

But today, she needed a diversion. Carly rummaged through her closet and pulled out her distressed short overalls. She rolled them farther up at the hem and paired them with a white T-shirt and her broken-in flat brown leather boots. A long-brimmed black fedora completed the look.

“There.” She felt like a new woman, or more like her old self.