I burst a laugh. “You’re a shit disturber, you know that?”
“I’m a dad,” he corrects.
Crossing my arms, we mirror each other, both of us staring out at the field. “She named those the Max and Miller cookies. M&M.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“You hummed.”
“A man’s allowed to hum.”
“That was a suspicious hum.”
“It was a normal hum. You’re just being paranoid and want to find ways to keep talking about my daughter.”
I scoff. “You were the one who brought her up first.”
His mouth curves slightly on one side.
“Hot Nanny alert!” Cody calls out. “Did you bring us more cookies?”
I follow his line of sight to find Miller frantically racing up the stairs of the dugout and onto the field with my son slung on her hip.
My heart instantly sinks at the sight.
“What’s wrong?” I shout. “What happened?” I run to her, meeting her in no time though it feels like forever before I can get my hands on them both. Panic laces my veins as I check my son up and down. “Is he okay?” My attention flips to her, my palm brushing over her hair. “Are you okay?”
“Max is fine.”
My stomach drops in relief, like I just plunged from the top of a roller coaster, and I have to let it level out before I can speak again. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I think he’s about to walk.” She sucks in a deep breath which tells me she ran here from the parking lot. “We were playing outside, and he was using the water table to balance when all of a sudden he let go and looked like he was going to take a step in my direction, but I scooped him up before he could. I don’t think I was supposed to do that. All those online mommy groups would probably berate me for it, and I’m pretty sure every one of your parenting books would call me unfit, but I couldn’t let you miss it.”
Miller is frenzied, her words stumbling out without a single breath as she searches my face for my reaction, as if she truly thinks I might be upset over her stopping him.
“Jesus.” Flipping the brim of my hat to the back, I drop my forehead to hers, half-heartedly laughing in relief. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“You’re not going to call me unqualified and refuse to let me watch him for the rest of the summer because I stopped him from walking?”
Pulling away, I brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “If you’re unqualified then so am I.” My brows furrow. “And do you really think I own a single parenting book?”
A laugh bubbles out of her.
“You drove all the way into the city?”
She nods against my palm as it rests on her cheek. “You can’t miss his first steps.”
Fucking hell.
Now that the adrenaline is settling, my chest physically aches because of this woman. She’s too good to us, too good to me.
“Maxie!” my brother calls out, breaking the spell of being around her and reminding me my entire team is watching, including Miller’s dad. “What are you doing here?”
I exhale, finally looking away from her and back to the guys behind me. “Apparently, he’s about to walk.”
There’s a frenzy of noise stirring by home plate. This team has been there since the day I found out my son existed. They’ve been stoked for every milestone, and this one seems no different.
“Bring him over here and let’s see it!” Travis shouts in our direction.
“Yeah, let him feel like his uncle, walking onto home plate after running the bases!”
“Well, if we’re shooting for accuracy,” Monty cuts in. “Maybe let him step onto second since Isaiah hasn’t rounded that base once in the past five games.”
The team bursts again, giving my brother shit.
“Geez, Monty.” Isaiah holds a hand to his chest. “Go ahead and admit that you’re obsessed with me, keeping track of my stats like that.”
A slight crack of a smile tugs at the corner of Monty’s lip.
Miller hands my son off to my brother before she finds Kennedy with an adorably excited wave. She takes her place with her dad, and Monty slings an arm over her shoulders, standing together to watch. The rest of the boys can’t resist, leaving their spots behind the batting cage to create a half circle around home plate.
I get down on my haunches right behind it, facing the third base line when Isaiah puts Max down only a few feet from me. My son has still got a death grip on my brother’s fingers, using them to balance himself, but he’s staring right at me all giddy with baby teeth.