He seems to have adopted the role of father as masterfully as he skates. The house isn’t as messy as it was the day his family ambushed him, which I’m guessing means he’s getting into a rhythm. There are prepared bottles in the fridge, neatly folded baby clothes in a laundry basket by the stairs, and Annabelle looks happy. Neither of them have bags under their eyes.
“That about it?” Ford asks, standing from the floor. He pulls Annabelle out from under the activity mat as she’s getting cranky. “This dress is cute and all, but Annabelle’s like me and wants to dress for comfort.”
Gavin glances at me. Ford has no idea how hard it was for me to get Gavin to push aside his plans for this shoot, and I shamelessly used the fact that Gavin hit on me all through school to make it happen. I never did anything about it back then, but I did promise him dinner tonight as friends to thank him.
“Sure. We’ll move on to the interview. Do you have someone to watch her?” he asks.
Ford’s eyebrows raise. “Do you see someone else?”
Gavin nods. “Yeah, okay. So you don’t use nannies?”
“Only when I have to. For out-of-town games. Otherwise, she has a babysitter when I’m playing in town.” He flips up his wrist, an expensive watch adorning it. “She’ll be here in two hours when I leave for the game.”
Gavin groans. He’s not going to want to do an interview with a cranky baby interrupting the whole time.
I raise my hand as though I’m in school. “I’ll take her.”
“It’s fine. I’ll feed her and lay her down, but you owe my babysitter some extra cash because she won’t go down for her nap this afternoon now.”
It’s heart melting how much he already knows his little girl, but then I remember that although Britney left a week ago, Ford’s had Annabelle for half the time anyway. During the time when his dad wasn’t up his ass and I didn’t have to come down here to straighten him out on New Year’s Eve, Ford Jacobs has become a father. Responsible for a little girl. Amazing, really.
“I can do it,” I say.
He carries Annabelle toward the stairs. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Then he’s gone.
Anger bubbles up inside me that he’s being a dick about this. I turn to Gavin and the crew. “I’ll be back.”
Walking up the stairs, I find myself tiptoeing because I’ve never ventured up here before. It feels private. Just as I stick to Mr. Jacobs’ office, the kitchen, and the family room at the Jacobs’ penthouse, I’ve done the same here. One time Imogen asked me to go to her room, but when I saw Mr. Jacobs in the hall in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, I decided never to venture outside of the main rooms of the house again.
I hear Ford’s voice before I reach Annabelle’s room. “You look beautiful in the dress, sweetie, but I bet it’s itchy. When you’re older, don’t let people dress you.”
I peek in the room behind the door to stay hidden, addicted to seeing this big strong man be so gentle with his daughter.
“I’ll never allow anyone to change you.” He’s cooing.
Annabelle lets out a little noise that could be a laugh.
I lean forward to get a better look.
“Are you laughing at Daddy?” He puts his face on her belly and vibrates his lips against her skin. She makes the same sound and he lifts his head. “You are laughing. That’s not gas, right?”
The amazement in his tone has my hand landing on my stomach because I’m pretty sure my ovaries did a three-sixty. Who would have ever thought he had it in him to be this man? Certainly not me.
He does it three more times and Annabelle laughs every time.
Picking her up, he circles her around in his arms, his smile as wide and as bright as when he’s on the rink after a win. I’m so enthralled that I don’t realize until it’s too late that he’s stopped and is staring at me.
“I didn’t peg you for a spy.” He lowers Annabelle to the changing table again.
I slowly step into the room. “Sorry.”
“At least this was something good for you to tattle back to my dad.”
“Is that what you really think I do? Tattle?”
“You’re my father’s fetcher. So yes, I do think you tattle because that’s partly what he’s paying you for.” He changes Annabelle’s diaper without a problem and puts her in a cute onesie that says “Daddy’s Girl” with pink lettering and small flowers.
“Your family is my business. I was hired to make you look good.”
“You were hired to make sure to spin any fuckups.” He picks her up and holds her.
“Yes, but—”
He spins to face me. “I’ve always been curious. Why?”
His anger spurs me to step back. “Why what?”
“Why would you take this job? You can’t have much of a life. Always having to be on call to fly down here to stop me from having any fun. My dad doesn’t even talk to you with a modicum of respect.”
I say nothing about the way his father talks to me. He talks to me like a paid employee, and I’ve been talked to in a lot worse ways, so it doesn’t get to me. At least Mr. Jacobs doesn’t talk down to me, which is more than I can say for how he talks to his son.
“It’s none of your business, but if you must know, I went to school for this.”
“Sure, but why not work at some big firm? You seem like the nerdy type. Surely you had good grades.” He takes the headband off Annabelle, and I swear I hear her release a sound like a sigh of relief. It reminds me of when I take off a tight dress and my Spanx after a long night out.
“I hate to break it to you, but jobs aren’t just lined up waiting for you when you graduate college unless you know…” I don’t finish because I’m growing madder by the minute and I’m going to say something I shouldn’t.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Let’s just get this interview over with.”
He widens his legs and his blue eyes focus on me. “Come on. Give it to me, Boyd. I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“I don’t have a rich daddy to set me up in his golf buddy’s business,” I say. I saw it so many times where I’d be one of the top two candidates for a position, and it would go to the person with connections. No one knew my dad except for maybe the shelter managers.
He laughs smugly and it makes me want to smack his face. “I didn’t use shit. My dad doesn’t know anyone in the National Hockey League. I earned my spot myself.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Sure, you were. And if I had to work for any company, we both know it would be Jacobs Enterprises.” He stops right next to me, leaning down so he can speak directly into my ear.
My breath hitches from the scent of his expensive cologne.
“Money isn’t everything,” he whispers.
I turn toward him. Our faces are millimeters apart, so close that Annabelle’s hand touches my cheek, but he doesn’t back away. “Says the trust fund boy.”
He huffs and straightens up, moving Annabelle’s hand from my cheek. “That’s all you see me as, huh?”