Uppercut {a pedro pascal au}

three

Maisy

I've been watching Malakai for the past week and it seems all three of us have acclimated to this new normal.

Usually, Pedro wakes with Malakai, changes and feeds him. I let them have their uninterrupted father-and-son time before taking over when he leaves to train. He sometimes comes back home to have his lunch but the majority of the time he's too busy with business calls and sponsorship deals and spends his whole day out.

When he gets in, he's exhausted. Next week, he has his first match of the season and I'm flying with him to Miami to look after Malakai.

He's less hurried to check on his son, now greeting me before he peeks his head into the nursery to make sure Malakai is still breathing. I take that as a sign that I've earned his trust around his son.

Over the span of the past week, I too have learnt to trust myself around Malakai. Though I must admit, he's making it easy by being a mellow fourteen-month-old. He makes me feel like I have a knack for kids. I was even debating taking him on a coffee date, but I wanted to ask his dad before I did so.

We spend our days working on broadening his vocabulary and on his balance. While he takes his naps, I tinker with my resume and send in a few job applications before losing all my willpower to exist. When that happens, I entertain myself by going through Pedro's book collection, flipping through the well-thumbed pages of his paperbacks.

I didn't anticipate that taking care of a fourteen-month-old would tire me out the way it does, but by Malakai's bedtime, I'm ready to hit the sack.

I wait until Pedro gets home with the baby monitor. We exchange a few words—I ask how his training was and he inquires how Malakai's and I's day went. Mainly our conversations revolve around his son.

Tonight, however, he shows more interest in getting to know me.

I'm lounging on the couch, scrolling on my phone when he walks through the front door. He texted me late afternoon, informing me that he had an emergency meeting with one of his sponsorship partners.

I hear him in the foyer, putting his shoes away and the soft thud of his duffle bag as he drops it. Instead of checking on his son, this time he goes in search of me. He strolls over to me, hands in his pockets.

My gaze rises over his tall body. On the bottom, he's wearing a pair of black pressed pants, and the material hugs his corded thighs. A faded green chenille button-down graces his upper body. The first three buttons are undone, displaying his pectorals. If I squint I make out the freckles dotting his tanned skin.

"Hi."

"Hi," he parrots, his rich, velvety voice is like a caress. "Is Malakai sleeping?"

I pass him the baby monitor. "Out like a log."

His eyes fill with overt fondness as he watches his son through the screen. "He didn't give you trouble?"

I shake my head. "He was easy, as always."

He sets the device on the coffee table. "You're really good with him. He likes you."

"I'm glad. I like him too. He's the sweetest." I busy my hands with redoing my bun. "And while I got you, I wanted to ask if it would be okay with you if I took him out on a little outing, like for a stroll around the neighbourhood or to the bookstore? Just to stimulate him."

His face brightens. "Yeah, sure. I bet he'd enjoy that." He makes his way into the kitchen. The first floor of his house is open plan so I can follow him with my eyes. "I have a stroller in the foyer's wardrobe. But if you don't want to push him around I have a sling you can use to carry him on your body. That's in the bottom drawer of his dresser."