Unlike his mother, the guys were as subtle as whores hocking blow jobs. They arrived uninvited and unappreciated, and did nothing but pepper him with moronic questions. They started out with lead-lined softballs like how’s Mia and ended with power-punches about his health, his mindset, and his ability to get his shit together.

He leaned off the vanity and watched the image standing before him in the mirror. Two weeks off was an eternity. He needed to work out, to train and pump iron until his muscles gave up on him. Something, anything to alleviate his tension. But exercising sounded like an awful waste of time, and he didn’t want to muster the energy.

His cell phone sat quiet, charging on the vanity counter. It didn’t ring a lot, but now it was infuriatingly silent. The guys hadn’t shown up all day. Maybe they went out on a job. An operation Jared didn’t tell him about.

With a few more splashes of water, he finished in the bathroom, then went to Clara’s room. She stirred, her infant fists balled over her head in a tiny stretch. Not that he had much to base assumptions on, but Clara was an awesome baby.

More or less, she kept to a schedule. He knew, to a five-minute window, when she would wake up. Right now, he had a few moments to sit and watch her slumber. It was the only thing he could enjoy.

Her bright blue eyes opened wide with the realization she was awake. Without giving her a chance to cry, he scooped her off of her purple sheets and cradled her against his chest. She was getting to be a big girl.

“Baby girl, I missed you while you were sleeping.”

He walked her over to the changing table and made fast work of a diaper change.

“I know, I know. It was awesome when Mia was here before. She’d be so proud of you.” He smoothed the baby’s cowlick down. “Peas and sweet potatoes. Who knew babies like that? I sure didn’t.”

She gurgled and reached for his face. Used to the smooth skin of a clean shave, Clara tugged his beard, intent on investigating.

“Yeah, I miss her, too.”

His cell phone vibrated on his hip. They could screw off. He was busy now. He ignored two calls as he sat on the floor, watching Clara try to crawl. A pile of toys encircled them, and he fashioned two guns out of large, pink building blocks, then set up a row of stuffed animals.

“This is how you take out the enemy. First, you—” Clara stared at him, reaching for her pink block weapon. “Let me have that back.”

He took a few of the blocks off. “You’re too young for guns. Even pink ones. This is a pink stick, and I have no idea what you should do with it.”