Thanks for the reviews! :) I really enjoy reading what you think of my story. Keep em' coming. This chapter is shorter than the others. Sorry :(

Chapter 4

Baggage

Toby Cavanaugh sits at his desk, staring at the sketches in front of him. The sound of his best friend and daughter linger in the background. They are playing some video game. Caleb got her a Wii-U for her birthday, mostly because he wanted to see what the hell it was, and because Toby wouldn't let him get her any other gaming system. Nintendo definitely had the most kid friendly games. As much as Toby was against the stereotype of guys being the only ones to play COD, and any other war games, he did not want his five year old daughter becoming a gamer, just yet. So, Caleb got her a Wii-U. Caleb would never admit to it, but Toby could tell he thought it was pretty cool.

He had finished the blueprints awhile back; he just wanted to perfect them. He isn't sure when he became such a perfectionist in his work. One day, he just found himself up at 2AM, still unwilling to go bed before the design was perfect. He sighs, and slides the blueprints away. He clenches his hands in his hair, his elbows hitting the table, holding him up.

Maybe this is where he went wrong in his marriage—what drove her away. He became a workaholic. But he doesn't see it that way…he just really loves what he does. He has a passion for it. She should understand. She is a musician…sort of. Trying to be, anyways. Currently she is just the band teacher, but, since her new husband is a recording artist, Toby imagines she'll be making a record soon.

He doesn't know if he misses her or not. He just wishes they could have worked it out for Tabitha's sake. Now, she'll have to deal with having divorced parents. She was only four when they broke up. Four year olds shouldn't already have baggage.

Baggage.

Look at him.

He has so much.

No one wants to deal with the amount of baggage he has. He shouldn't get involved with anyone…but he can't stop thinking about her. He thought he was turned off to love, not like Caleb, exactly. But he didn't think he would find anyone to triple his heart rate and give him butterflies. She came out of nowhere, really. Like a rainstorm on the most, sunniest day.

They've been talking a lot more, too. They eat lunch together, sometimes. She'll always make it because he's working, and well, she isn't. He tends to wonder about that, though. What she is doing, living in her parents' house, when she seems to despise them so much? Maybe she doesn't have the financial support to leave. He knows that was a problem for him for awhile. They pretty much steer clear of any serious topics. She still doesn't know he is a father. He still doesn't know what she does for a living.

Maybe he is thinking too much into it. They ate lunch together three times, and had a few short conversations beside that. Maybe she is just being nice. Maybe she does this with all the help.

If they were friends, he would know more about her, right?

More than just her middle name (Jill), her favorite color (orange) and birth date (April 10th)?

He hasn't made a new friend in a while…

Maybe he should finally tell Caleb about all this. See, what he thinks. Except, he knows what he'll say. He'll ask if she is hot, and if so, if he has her number. Toby smiles at his friend's ridiculousness.

Caleb wasn't always like this. In high school, he got his heart broken. He didn't handle the heart break as well as Toby. His girlfriend of three years had broken up with him, telling him that she had bigger and better things to do—things she couldn't do while in a relationship with him. Caleb didn't take it well, and he soon became a dick in regards to girls and women.

He shakes the thoughts away, and joins the two on the couch.

"I beat you again, Caleb!" the little girl exclaims giddily.

"Yeah, whatever," he groans, passing the controller, or whatever you call it, to Toby. He crosses his arms and legs, and sinks into the couch, acting like a five year old. "This game is rigged," he mumbles.

"Its okay, Caleb. You beat me the first couple times, remember?"

"Yeah, twice," he angrily spits out.

Toby laughs, "Good job, Tabs," he congratulates her, pulling her sideways, and into his lap. He looks down at his giggling daughter, "but the question is, can you beat me?" he raises his eyebrows.

"You're the worst at video games. Of course she can beat you," Caleb's voice enters his ear. Suddenly Caleb is sitting up straight, as is his daughter.

"Don't worry I'll go easy on you," she assures him, giggling a little.

"Oh, you will?" he challenges. "Well, we'll just see about that!"

They begin the game, Caleb watching attentively, laughing at how poorly Toby does.

Once again, Tabitha is declared the winner.

"Don't worry daddy," she sets her hand on his arm, a warm smile on her face, "you just need practice. I can teach you, and you can beat Caleb!" she tells him.

"I'm right here!" Caleb shoots up from his seat. "Come on, Tabs, I was on your side."

She shrugs, "I can teach you, too, if you want."

Toby laughs, "Okay, but we're going to have to save it for next time. Sadly, it is already pass your bedtime, and if you stay up any longer, you'll turn into a pumpkin," he tells her.

"That isn't true!" she fights.

"It happened in Cinderella," he tells her in a casual tone. Caleb snickers in the background.

"She didn't turn into a pumpkin, her carriage did," she explains.

"Fine. Well, what happened to her?"

"Her dress turned bad," she murmurs a quick response.

"Okay, well…" he starts, not sure where he is going with this anymore, "if you don't get to bed in time, then you will grow a tail."

"Stop lying, daddy!"

He chuckles, "fine. But you really have to go to bed. It's important for your health," he explains.

"But you and Caleb don't have to go to bed?"

"Yeah, but we are older, and need less sleep. Trust me, after I kick him out, I'm hitting the hay."

"Why would you hit hay?" her face scrunches up.

"It's just an expression. You know, like…saying words you don't actually mean?" he tries to offer a definition.

"I hate expressions. I don't understand why people use them. They should just say what they mean!" she gets a little irritated.

"I know, kiddo, but really, it's time for bed. Stop distracting me," he demands.

"I'm not doing anything!" she proclaims.

He turns off the TV, then the video game system, and hears his daughter's groans behind him.

"Let's go," he says before scooping her up in his arms, not really giving her any choice but to go along with him. Although she is upset she has to go to sleep, she doesn't try to release herself.

"Say goodbye to Caleb," he tells her.

She sighs, "bye Caleb."

"So much enthusiasm," he retorts. He isn't sure if his daughter knows the word's meaning, but Caleb does, and he is left laughing.

With only a little trouble, Toby puts his daughter to bed.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later, he returns to his friend. He slumps on the couch, groaning.

"That kid's got game," Caleb states, making Toby chuckle.

"Yeah, she's pretty good…" Toby states, mindlessly.

Silence.

"Do you think that you'll ever fall in love again, Caleb?" Toby questions his friend.

"I was never in love," Caleb responds.

Toby rolls his eyes.

"Why?" he hears his friend later say.

Toby just shrugs, "just wondering if you'll still be hitting on girls when you're eighty, I guess."

"Girls will be hitting on me," he responds.

Toby laughs, along with Caleb.

"What's up, man?" Caleb asks.

"Just curious, I guess."

"Toby Cavanaugh is never just curious," Caleb refutes. "What's going on? Did you find some girl you like?" he questions.

He stays quiet. "I don't know," he finally quips up. "I just feel like there's no point, ya know? I just have too much baggage."

"Everyone has baggage, dude," Caleb responds cynically.

"Are you encouraging me?" Toby sits up, staring at his friend, a wrinkle in his brow.

"I don't really care what you do man, as long as you let me live my hermit life, I'm good."

Toby laughs, shaking his head, "I thought you wanted me as your wing man?"

"You kind of suck at it, anyways," Caleb shrugs. "Tabby probably is better than you at it. She's adorable. Women love children. Well, more so, they see children, they feel depressed because they don't have their own, and then wala, there in my bed."

"Is that why you take my daughter to the park sometimes? To get women?"

"It works," Caleb shrugs.

"God," Toby exasperates, slumping back into the couch. "Remind me to never let you watch her again."

"I'm a great baby sitter," he defends.

"What's your definition of great?" Toby responds.

Caleb rolls his eyes, "if you're just going to insult me, I'm going home," he jokes.

They laugh.

"But really, I think I'm gonna head back to my apartment. I'm so wiped out, I could fall asleep, right here," he stands up, stretching his arms out. He yawns, "see you later, dude."

Toby watches Caleb leave, and wonders if he'll ever trust to give his heart away again.

…

They are eating lunch, and he notes it is their fourth lunch. Four lunches and he still doesn't know who she is. "So," he begins, feeling a little uneasy. "You know what I do, but I don't know what you do—or studying to do—or want to do," he fumbles on his words.

"It's, kind of, complicated," she sighs.

He nods his head, not knowing what to say. She didn't exactly give him a lot to work with. He takes a bite of his grilled cheese.

"Well, maybe you should think about becoming a chef. This is probably the best grilled cheese I've ever had," he notes, taking another bite.

She beams at him, her copper eyes sparkling, and her grin rising to great heights. "Thank you, but it's just grilled cheese," she murmurs, looking down at her plate.

"It's amazing, is what it is," he goes on, taking a sip of his water. He swallows down the liquid and takes in a breath, "I really do feel bad for you making me lunches all the time."

"Don't," she gives him the look she always gives him when he admits his guilt. "I like having lunch with you," she confesses, making his cheeks cover with crimson. He takes a sip of his water, hoping it will wash away the red that colors his face.

"I like having lunch with you, too," he gets out in a nervous matter, gulping as their eyes meet.

He stares away, breaking the trance.

"How about I bring something, tomorrow? I mean, it will be, like, peanut butter and jelly, but, hey…at least I'm contributing."

She laughs. He loves her laugh. It is so joyful—so radiant, he didn't think a laugh could be radiant…but hers is.

"Okay, fine. You bring the lunch tomorrow, if it will help you sleep at night," she smiles at him.

Her smile. God, why did everything about her have to be so perfect?

"Thank God. Now all my restless nights will finally be over," he exasperates.

She giggles, biting her lips, turning her head away.

He wonders if she thinks of him the way he thinks of her.

A sudden confidence shoots through him, "but, actually…I don't think a peanut butter and jelly sandwich will really help my insomnia. I think that I need to do more," he goes on.

She gives him a curious look.

"Maybe we can do lunch…or even switch things up a little, and do dinner, one time, outside of this property line, maybe?"

She stares at him, sucking in a breath. It looks like a million things pass through her at first. His heart races as the time between his rhetoric and hers expands.

"I can't," she looks down.

"Oh," he swallows his disappointment.

"I'm sorry, I just…it's complicated," she sighs.

"It's fine," he gives her a smile. "A peanut butter and jelly sandwich will just have to do for right now, I guess," he offers up, feigning the smile on his face.

She just nods awkwardly, and he suddenly regrets ever asking.

…

The next day, when they are eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he prepared, she brings it up. "Look, about yesterday," she begins, leading in with a dragged out sigh, "It's just…it really is complicated. It's not just some lame excuse," she protests.

He stares at her, his sandwich still in his hand. He didn't think he would be stepping back into this conversation. He is still trying to recover from the day old conversation, truthfully. "It's okay," he assures her in a warm tone, even though he doesn't really feel okay at all. "You don't need to explain yourself," he goes on.

"But I do," she sighs, her eyes faltering away. "I just—all we can be is friends," she states.

He thinks it over, and while he is initially saddened to her the words, he decides it is probably better this way. He has a daughter to take care of. His daughter is his life, and any other woman would always come second, "all right," he nods. "Then, friends…" he nods, lifting up a smile.

"You aren't mad?"

He shrugs, "it's probably better this way anyways…" he answers ambiguously, his eyes locking on his sandwich again.

She doesn't ask what he means.

…

Emily Fields sits in front of him, a chai tea latte in hand, and a bowl of salad in front of her. She sets down her latte, and then laughs at one of his Tabby stories. He has always loved her laugh. Emily is probably the sweetest person he's ever met. He's only known her for two years, but it feels like so much longer.

"God, she's so adorable. I need to see her again, soon!"

"I'm sure that can be arranged. She loves you," he smiles at her.

She grins back, but it gradually faces into something somber. "So," she sucks in a breath, "how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he supplies. "I mean, it sucks a lot less than when I found out she was cheating on me, so…" he offers.

"I'm serious," she tilts her head to the side.

"Me too!"

"Toby," she sighs.

"Really, Em. I'm okay. I don't really even care. Caleb took me out that night."

"Oh God, Caleb? Toby, what the hell did you do?"

"We crashed her wedding, and kidnapped Garret," he responds dryly. A second later he sighs, "nothing! We just got drunk…and I sort of hooked up with someone, but—" he shrugged, fluttering his eyes away.

"That doesn't sound like the behavior of someone who is fine," she reprimands him.

"Well, yeah, because I wasn't fine, then. But I am, now," he tells her firmly.

She sighs, and to his delight, she changes the topic, "so, how's the job treating ya?"

"OK," he nods, thoughts of a certain brunette running wild in his mind. He is still trying to convince himself that they are better off friends.

Emily detects something in his words. She is good at that—knowing when you're lying. She is a social worker, and majored in Psychology. She knows how the mind works, and she can spot a liar, or in this case, when someone isn't fully opting up to the truth. "OK what is it?" she demands, an almost tease to her voice. "What's wrong?" she goes on.

"Nothing, really," a thoughtful expression washes over his face. "It is just, there is this girl…and I can't get her out of my head."

"Really, Toby? That's amazing! I'm so glad you are moving on from—"

"She just wants to be friends…" he whisks the smile off the woman's face.

"Oh," she grimaces. "That's not so amazing…" her delicate voice travels softly across the table.

He shrugs, "I think it may be for the better, anyways. I mean, she's like twenty five, I doubt she is looking to be a step-mom."

"I didn't know going on a date with somebody meant matrimony?" she teases, a smirk placed out on her golden face.

"You know what I mean," he chuckles. "It is just better this way," he decides.

"I hope she changes her mind," Emily supports, a warm smile spreading across her lips.

And, God, so does he. This whole convincing-himself-it-is-for-the-better-thing isn't quite working out well for him.