Push

16. He Realized His Mistake

TOBY

"Um... Toby...?"

I tore my attention away from the pot bubbling on the stove and glanced over my shoulder. Gwen stood just inside the kitchen. She'd kicked off her heels, but her suit jacket was still clutched in her hand, dragging on the hardwood floor.

A dopey smile spread across my face. "Hey!" I gave the pot another stir. "I didn't realize you were home!"

To be fair, I wouldn't have heard a marching band of elephants over the racket Noah was making. He was sitting in his porta cot—my genius idea to contain his champion rolling skills—and he was squealing a happy tune as he played with the saucepans I'd fished out of the bottom drawer.

Gwen scanned the room with wide eyes. "What the—?" She flinched when Noah clanged his enormous green spoon on a metal lid.

My smile was sheepish. "Sorry, doll." Her glare sliced through my chest when the nickname slipped out. I'd already screwed up, and she'd only just walked through the door. "How did the interviews go?"

Gwen shrugged. She slung her jacket over the porta cot and leaned over to ruffle Noah's fuzzy hair. Every movement looked like a struggle. The excited smile on her face when Noah showed her his big spoon—yeah, that was fake.

Gwen looked exhausted... Defeated.

Shit.

I abandoned the stove, hopped to the other side of the counter, and pulled out a stool. "Hey. Sit down." She didn't shrug off my hand when I gently coaxed her across the kitchen. "Want me to make you a cup of tea?"

Gwen shook her head. She dragged herself onto the stool and slumped over the counter, chin resting on her fist, mind ticking over. My gut twisted. I hated seeing her like that.

In the old days, I wouldn't have thought twice about rushing over, wrapping my arms around her, and kissing her forehead. She overthought everything. Worried. Analysed. Like she could never shut off her brain. It was my job to help her do that. I'd tell her everything would be okay, and she'd roll her eyes, but I'd see her smile before she nuzzled into my chest.

I shifted uneasily on my feet. Just standing there was torture. I needed to do something.

"Oh!" I was already high-tailing it to the fridge. "I've got just what you need." I grinned at her over my shoulder. "Wine."

Gwen's voice was edged with irritation. "I'm still breastfeeding, I can't—"

"Don't worry. It's non-alcoholic prosecco." I grabbed the bottle and a glass off the top shelf. "It's from the supermarket, so it probably won't taste the best, but it's got bubbles. Perfect for celebrating... or... um..." I shot her a tight smile. "Preparing your next plan of attack."

I slid the frosted glass in front of Gwen and tore the foil off the bottle. Any worries of freaking out Noah if I popped the cork disappeared. This supermarket prosecco was about the furthest thing from real champagne.

I held up the bottle and winked. "The twist top means it's extra classy, right?"

Gwen didn't laugh, but her glare softened. She didn't complain when I filled her glass with bubbles, either. Her index finger circled absently around the rim, her gaze flicking between Noah and me as I scooted back to the stove.

"Toby." Her sigh was heavy. "What are you doing?"

"Um..." My eyebrows pinched together. Was this a trick question? "Cooking dinner for Noah?"

Should I have left as soon as she got home? Was that what you were meant to do when someone said they needed space? But there were still a hundred things to do. Finishing up the cooking, putting the leftovers in the freezer, tidying up, Noah's bath time—