You’re free to flip over on your tummy all you want, little man.” Tommy did exactly that, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He rocked back and forth, not exactly moving forward but gaining impressive momentum. Will watched with concern. “You don’t think he can actually crawl, do you?”
Real mobility probably required some kind of baby-proofing. Megan’s living room had safety covers in the outlets and gates in the doorways. When she’d unlocked a series of gates for the girls earlier, he was reminded of the weekends he helped on his friend Brody’s ranch, herding cows through pens into the chute. But he’d refrained from comparing Megan’s daughters to cattle out loud.
She was watching the baby’s movements. “Doesn’t look like he’s crawling yet, but it won’t be long. And I warn you, once it happens, they move faster than you’d expect.”
Fantastic. Amy, you’d better get back to Cupid’s Bow soon. More terrifying than anything else—even toxic diapers—was the open-endedness of the situation. He’d been sincere about wanting to help Amy, but he couldn’t keep a baby indefinitely.
What were his other options? He couldn’t stomach the thought of handing over the infant to Donovan or, after reading Amy’s letter, her mother. And calling social services would feel like a total betrayal. So, for now, he’d be patient and take his unexpected guardianship one day at a time.
He lifted Tommy in front of his face. “We’ve imposed on Ms. Rivers long enough. Think we can manage by ourselves for the rest of the night?”
The baby gurgled happily, blowing a spit bubble.
“I’ll take that as hearty agreement.”
“Here.” Megan reached over to a small table and pulled a crayon out of a basket, then scribbled something across a piece of paper. “In case you have any emergencies tonight.”
“Thank you.” He stared at the purple digits. Megan Rivers was the last woman in town he ever would have expected to give him her phone number. Although hoping not to need it, as he folded the piece of paper into his pocket, he realized he was surprisingly happy to have it.
As dawn stretched across the sky and the sunlight spilling through his bedroom window grew brighter, Will knew his chances of getting any decent rest were dwindling. His longest stretch of sleep all night had only been an hour long. It wasn’t that Tommy had been unreasonably demanding. He’d only needed one bottle, around four in the morning. Will had stubbed the hell out of his big toe while maneuvering through the dark room for diaper supplies, but the night had been otherwise uneventful. Still, he’d been plagued with uncharacteristic insomnia.
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