Before I can ask, a door opens in the hallway. Jack comes stumbling out of his room, raking a hand through his spiky blonde hair. His thick-rimmed glasses are lopsided.
I smile at him. “Done for the day?”
“Finally.” He tugs the bottom of his t-shirt. It has a D20 screen-printed onto it, under the wordsthis is how I roll.Obviously in reference to our chat last night. “What do you think?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I think you should burn it,” Cy says conversationally, rubbing Cami’s cheek with one of the ears on her bunny. She giggles. “In a bin, in the alley behind the building. Just set it on fire. Bad for the environment, but good for humanity.”
“It’s cute,” I tell Jack honestly.
I could swear that he blushes. Cyrus stretches and stands. “Well, since ladybug’s about ready for bed, why don’t we order some pizza and get to work on these boxes? I want her in a proper cot tonight.”
Jack nods. “Seb should be out in a few. He’s just wrapping up a call.” He turns to me. “You can go if you want. You must be sick of us by now.”
I shake my head. “I don’t mind staying a bit longer and helping.”
He frowns. “Your shift is eight-to-seven, right? You should go. We’ve got this handled.”
“Okay. What do you put inside a six-month-old baby’s cot?”
He looks taken aback. “Just… a mattress, a pillow and some quilts, right? And her toy?” He looks at Cyrus, who shrugs.
“A mattress and a fitted sheet. No pillows. Suffocation hazard.”
Jack pales.
Cyrus clears his throat. “What’s your overtime, sugar?”
“About as much as a medium ham and pineapple pizza. With extra cheese.”
“Noted.”
* * *
An hour later, we’ve made great headway. Between us, we’ve assembled a pushchair, a changing station, a crib, and a set of drawers to put Cami’s clothes in. We’ve also demolished three pizzas, three brownies, and a six-pack of beer. I’m having more fun than I have in a very long time.
“What about clothes and stuff?” Jack asks as I try to figure out the baby monitor. “We only have the basics. She doesn’t even have any toys.”
I lift the monitor to my mouth like a walkie-talkie. “I’ll go tomorrow, if you like,” I say into it. My voice finally echoes out of the other monitor, and Cyrus throws up his hands in relief. “Cami could probably use an outing that doesn’t involve getting stabbed.”
“Can I come with you?” Jack asks. “I’d like to help pick stuff out for her.”
Cyrus sighs deeply. “Jack, I swear to God, if you come back with any of your nerdy cartoon shirts—”
“She’s a baby. All kids’ shirts have cartoons on.”
“Then why the Hell do you wear them? Are you in arrested development, or something?”
“Beth likes my shirts,” Jack argues.
Cyrus scoffs. “That’s probably because she’s used to spending all day with children.”
“That is true,” I allow. Jack gives me a faux-wounded look as Sebastian strides into the room. He looks down at all of us, his expression impassive, then focuses his intense stare on me. “Beth,” he calls. “Can I have a word?”
I blink. Am I in trouble already? I’ve been hired for less than twenty-four hours. Nodding, I pass the screwdriver I’m holding to Jack and join Seb by the kitchen counter. He looks down at his hands, his lips tight.
“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “For talking to you like that earlier.”
I’m shocked. “Um. It’s okay.”