She puts her hand on mine, stopping me, her tone growing serious. “That was your one fuck-up, Rhodes. Treat me like my presence is a burden to your summer again, and I’ll walk out this door and never come back.”
A small smile tilts on my lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t smile. You’re too old to be smiling. You’re sure to get wrinkles just from doing it once.”
Shaking my head, that grin grows as I open the door of my house for her.
She enters first and, from behind, I watch as she takes in the first glimpse of my home. I bought this place a few months ago, so there are still some boxes tucked in various corners, but overall, we’re moved in. The house is a nice size. Perfect for Max and me. I’m not sure if Chicago is our long-term spot, but I like the idea of picking a place and setting roots. Especially now that I have a son. Once he’s old enough to start school, I don’t plan on moving him.
God, that thought is depressing. He’s only fifteen months old and I already feel like I’m missing out on too much time. What am I going to do when he’s too old to be traveling with the team? When he’s in school? Leave him in Chicago while I travel for work and hire someone else to raise him?
I want to be involved. I want to be a good dad. I want him to be surrounded with unconditional love from his family. The last thing I want is for him to feel the weight of too many responsibilities at too young of an age the way I did.
I want his life to be easy. At least, in a reasonable way. I want him to learn how to work hard, to earn things in his life. But the big stuff, like finding a way to get to school when you live across town, figuring out where your next meal will come from, or forging your dad’s signature on paperwork because you don’t want anyone to know you and your little brother live alone. Yeah, my kid will never know what that’s like.
Rounding Miller’s body, I face her in the foyer. “Max’s room is down that hall. I’ll let you explore on your own once he’s awake from his nap, but the main part of the house is this way.” Hands in my pockets, I nod towards the opposite side of the house. “Come.”
“God,” she moans, head falling back. “I can’t wait to hear you say that in the bedroom.”
Jesus.
I wouldn’t know where to start figuring out how this woman’s mind works, how she makes these connections. She loves to throw me off balance, to get a rise out of me. But this is my house. I’m in charge here, and I’m tired of this twenty-five-year-old woman making me feel like a teenage boy with no retort for the pretty girl who spits out the most asinine statements.
Instead of backing up or shaking my head at her as I typically do, I take a step into her, invading her space before leaning down to keep my voice low but clear. “If you’re as terrible of a listener in the bedroom as you are in real life, Miller, I can promise you this, you wouldn’t be allowed to come.”
Those pretty lips part, jade eyes wide.
“Two can play this game, Montgomery. Now, let’s go.” I nod towards the other side of the house once again.
Her lips press together, holding back a grin. “You keep talking like that, Kai, and I’ll be ditching the ‘baseball’ part and just be calling you ‘daddy’。”
A laugh bursts out of me, a smile mirroring the one on Miller’s mouth.
Her eyes track my face as she stands only inches from me. It feels only slightly sexual, but more so satisfied. Like she’s proud of herself for getting me to laugh.
“Thanks for helping me out with him today,” I add, needing to voice a bit of my appreciation for her coming back before she can leave the two inches that separate us.
She nods, following behind as I lead her through the other side of the house. Max’s bedroom is in the furthest corner, done purposefully in hopes that he’d be able to sleep through whatever noise is happening in the main part.
“My room is down that hall, as is a guest room. Living room. Dining room,” I continue, rattling off the open spaces as we pass them. Turning the corner, we leave the main family room. “Here’s the kitchen, and if you come this way, you’ll find—”
I stop in my tracks, no longer hearing Miller’s sandaled feet slap against the hardwood. Her back is to me, eyes on the kitchen.
“This is your kitchen?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Kai, it’s stunning.”
Is it? I guess it is, with its butcher block countertops and brand-new appliances. There’s plenty of storage, white cabinetry, and black finishes. But I’ve never thought much of it because I, for one, never use it.