“You got an extra, it seems,” Baker says, nodding toward Mia as I set her down so she can play with the other kids. She crawls over to Coral and jabbers away as if my granddaughter understands every word. Camden hands her a football, one of many on the floor already, and she immediately takes it, placing it in her mouth.
“Yeah, I told Amanda I’d keep an eye on her so she can unpack and get settled.”
“I can keep an eye on her if you need to unpack or anything,” Foster offers. “I can use the practice.” He grins.
It’s good to see him happy and opening up. Meeting his wife has changed him. While the offer to unpack is tempting, I know that I’d better keep my ass right here. My roommate is too tempting. “Nah, I already unpacked,” I tell him. I hate that I can’t take him up on it, but I’m not here to seduce her. I just want to be where she is.
I’m aware that somehow, I’ve allowed myself to fall ass over heels for my daughter’s best friend. I also know, as Amanda and I have decided, it can’t go anywhere, but I’m a desperate man. I’ll take the time with her—even knowing she’ll never be mine—any way I can get it.
The guys and I stand around, watching the kids, while the ladies do their thing. The kids are laughing and playing, and I’m glad my daughter and granddaughter have this support system. I’m glad Amanda and Mia have it, too. Speaking of Mia, she’s pulled herself up on the small table and is bouncing on her legs.
“She’s going to be running all over soon,” Corie says, coming to stand next to Knox.
“I thought Alexander was fast when he was crawling,” Knox says. “How do their little legs move so fast?” He laughs.
I smile, all while keeping my eyes on Mia. She looks over at me, those big, curious eyes locking on mine like I’m the only thing in the room. I take a few slow steps closer, careful not to startle her, and bend down so I’m on her level.
“I see you, sweetheart,” I murmur, smiling wide enough that my cheeks ache. I’m rewarded with a grin that shows off her two bottom teeth. Then, like she’s been waiting for permission, she lets go with one hand and turns toward me. She wobbles, her knees doing that uncertain baby bounce, but she’s still grinning like this is the best game she’s ever played.
“Oh, shit,” Baker breathes. “She’s going for it.”
My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m surprised everyone can’t hear it. I force myself to stay calm, even though every instinct in me wants to scoop her up and hold her steady. This sweet baby girl is about to take her first step.
“Someone, hell, all of you, record this,” I command, while keeping my tone even. “I’m afraid to yell for Amanda, and if she does it, I don’t want her to miss this.” I hear movement, and I know everyone has their phone pointed at this sweet girl.
Mia giggles a bright, bubbling sound that hits me square in the chest. She shifts her weight and takes one careful step while still holding on, then another. Her fingers grip the edge of the coffee table as she makes her way down the length of it, determination written all over her tiny face. She pauses halfway and glances up at me like she needs reassurance.
“You’re doing so good, baby girl,” I whisper, my voice thick.
She resumes her slow shuffle, both hands clutching the table again as she toddles to the end. When she gets there, she’s maybe two feet from me. Two feet that suddenly feel like a mile.
“Are you recording?” I ask without looking back. I want to scream for Amanda, but I’m scared to death to break the magic of this moment.
A chorus of “Yes, Coach” rings out. I swallow back a laugh, blinking fast because I did not expect to get emotional over this. Not like this.
“Okay, Miss Mia,” I say softly, holding my arms out wide. “It’s your move.”
She looks at the distance between us. Then at me. Then back at the distance. Her brow furrows in concentration, lips pursed like she’s calculating something serious. She bounces on her legs, as if she’s trying to get them to move, but she’s still holding on to the table.
“Come and see me, pretty girl,” I coo, my voice gentle. “You’ve got this,” I encourage her, not that she understands me. Then again, maybe she does.
She squeals, delighted with herself, or maybe at my praise, and removes her hand from the table.
My breath stalls as I watch her.
She wobbles, windmilling her arm for balance, and for a split second, I think she’s going down. A collective gasp fills the room, but she manages to steady herself. She looks over at me and grins as her tiny foot lifts, hovers, then comes down in front of her.
One step forward.
She sways again, eyes wide now, surprised by her own bravery. I keep my arms open, forcing myself not to lean forward and offer her my hand as assistance.
“That’s it, Mia. Come on, baby,” I encourage her. She stands on her own, looking from me to her little feet, debating her next move.
The second step is faster, less certain. Her knees wobble, but she manages to steady herself yet again.
“Look at you,” I say, feeling emotions well in my throat. “One more,” I say, holding my arms wide open. This time, I scoot in a little closer, making the journey shorter. She reaches her arms out for me, but I pull back just a little. “One more. You can do it.”
The third step is hurried, and she pitches forward, but I’m there to catch her, pulling her into my arms and holding her tightly against my chest. She giggles again, and I swear my heart feels too big for my chest.