Page 20 of Hollywood

“I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“No one does,” Tex said. “It’s not like any parent has all the answers. You just do your best.”

I waved my arm. “Look at this place, though. It’s a death trap!”

Tex laughed as he settled Ruby on his hip, bouncing her enough to entertain her. “You just need to buy some childproof cabinet locks.”

“They make those?”

“Parents everywhere have the same problems, so yeah, they make all sorts of toddler-proofing items. I’d also get the little plastic plug-ins so she can’t try to shove something into an outlet and?—”

“Oh god,” I exclaimed, looking at the nearest outlet.

“It’s just a precaution, but don’t let her get her hands on any silverware or something metal she might put in there.”

“I won’t,” I said, already doing a mental inventory ofeverything she could reach. I’d have to clear out another drawer to be safe.

“Also, a baby gate could be useful,” Tex said. “I doubt Ruby can climb one of those yet. Which brings me to the reason I’m here. I’ve got a toddler bed outside. She’s too old for a crib because she could climb out and fall, but this means she can get up whenever she wants.”

“Won’t be any worse than my bed, then. I just want her to have her own place to sleep.” I glanced around the room. “I guess we can shove the coffee table against the wall and put it here? There’s not enough room in my bedroom.”

“Sounds doable,” he said.

Ruby squirmed to get down, and as soon as she hit the floor, she zoomed back into the kitchen. Oh, damn, not again!

I whirled toward Tex. “You don’t know how to make her go to sleep, do you?”

He chuckled. “She’ll wear herself out eventually. She’s probably a little manic because she’s in a new place. It’s got to be confusing.”

“She cried for Carrie when she first woke up, and she refused to go back to sleep.”

Tex nodded. “It might be a rough night for you both.”

My face must have given away my dread because Tex came closer and clasped my shoulder. “Hey, I won’t leave until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got to bring in all this stuff and get it arranged. And if Ruby is still running wild, I’ll stay awhile.”

I blew out a breath. “I should be able to handle it.”

“It’s okay if you need a little help,” Tex said softly.

I should refuse his offer. I tried to call up the anger I’d been nursing for months, the resentment that he’d run away from the feelings between us, but I couldn’t find it. I waslike a closet stuffed full of boxes, every label readingRuby. There was no room for anything else.

“Okay, thanks,” I said.

A pan clattered loudly in the kitchen. I cringed. “Shit. Ruby.”

“Go get her,” he said. “I’ll start hauling stuff in.”

For the next thirty minutes, I ran interference with my daughter while Tex brought in a bed, a booster seat and potty chair, and a couple of bags of clothes. Ruby had lost steam by then, and she clung to my leg at the entry to the living room, watching Tex wrangle the bed into position between the sofa and TV.

“Does that look familiar?” I asked her.

“Bed?” she said, sounding dubious.

“Yep.” I picked her up and walked over, giving her a closer view. “Ruby’s bed.”

I set her down on the bed. She patted the mattress, then got on hands and knees and crawled toward the head of the bed. “Ruby’s bedtime?”

“It sure is, sweetie. We just need to make the bed.”