Perfect Scandal

Chapter 5

Riley stood in Alistair’s kitchen, explaining the steps of making formula like she was teaching a child. Alistair, cradling the baby in one arm and holding a bottle in the other, nodded earnestly. His sincerity might have been endearing if Riley weren’t so thoroughly annoyed with the entire situation.

“Okay,” she said, her tone curt. “You fill the bottle to the required amount with water, then you scoop in the formula. Not too much, not too little. It’s a baby, not a protein shake.”

Alistair smirked but quickly schooled his features under Riley’s glare. “Got it. I can follow instructions.”

“Good, because if you mess this up, it’s on you,” she added, pointing at him. “This is not my responsibility. I’m just... assisting.”

“Sure,” Alistair replied, his tone light but his eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re just a helpful neighbor who stormed out of her own apartment and came back with baby supplies.”

Riley bristled but ignored his jab, focusing instead on the formula canister. She handed it to him with exaggerated care. “Now mix it properly. No clumps.”

Alistair placed the bottle on the counter, holding the baby close with one arm while trying to screw the cap on with his free hand. It was an awkward, fumbling process, and Riley’s irritation deepened.

“Do you need me to hold her?” she asked, more annoyed than helpful.

He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling with mock gratitude. “Would you? That’d be a lifesaver.”

Riley sighed and reached out, taking the baby gingerly. The infant gurgled softly, her tiny fingers curling around Riley’s sweatshirt. It was an odd sensation—warmth, softness, and an inexplicable sense of connection. Riley quickly shook the thought away and focused on Alistair, who was still struggling with the bottle.

“You’re hopeless,” she muttered.

“And yet, I’m managing,” he retorted, shaking the bottle vigorously. “I’ve acted in over thirty movies. How hard can this be?”

“Acting isn’t parenting, Gomez,” Riley said, raising an eyebrow.

“True, but I’ve played a dad in a couple of roles,” he shot back, smirking as he held up the finished bottle. “See? Nailed it.”

Riley rolled her eyes but refrained from commenting. Instead, she watched as he tested the temperature on his wrist and then took the baby back from her. It was a surprisingly smooth exchange, the baby settling into Alistair’s arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Okay, kiddo,” he murmured, gently placing the bottle to her lips. “Dinner time.”

Riley leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, observing him with a mixture of annoyance and reluctant admiration. Despite his fumbling and cluelessness, there was a softness in the way he handled the baby—a tenderness that didn’t quite match the image of the cocky actor she’d come to associate with him.

“So,” she said after a moment, breaking the silence, “what’s your plan? You can’t just keep her here.”

Alistair glanced up, his expression thoughtful. “I tried calling the authorities earlier. They’re looking into it, also thinking that it's a prank, besides it’s Christmas Eve. Things are moving slow.”

Riley frowned. “And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime,” he said, shifting the baby slightly as she continued to drink, “I’m doing my best.”

Her skepticism must have been evident because he added, “What do you expect me to do? Put her back on the doorstep with a note saying ‘Return to sender’?”

Riley winced. “Obviously not. But you’re not exactly equipped for this, Ali.”

He chuckled softly. “No kidding. But until we figure out where she came from, she’s staying here. I’m not heartless.”

The unexpected sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. She had expected him to be flippant, to brush off the responsibility. Instead, he seemed genuinely invested in the baby’s well-being, despite his obvious inexperience.

“Well,” she said after a pause, “I hope you’re ready for sleepless nights and endless crying. Babies aren’t as easy as they look.”

“I’ll manage,” he said, a hint of defiance in his tone. “I’ve handled long shoots, grueling schedules, and demanding directors. How hard can one little baby be?”

Riley snorted. “Famous last words.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the only sound the soft sucking noises from the baby. Riley shifted uncomfortably, feeling an odd mix of amusement, frustration, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“I should go,” she said finally, pushing off the counter.

Alistair looked up, his brow furrowing. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, I’m leaving. I’ve done my part,” she replied, gesturing to the baby supplies on the table. “The rest is on you.”

He smirked. “You sure? You seem like you’re getting the hang of this whole ‘helpful neighbor’ thing.”

Riley glared at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

As she headed for the door, he called after her, “Hey, Riley.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “What?”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice soft. “For everything.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t mention it.”

And with that, she left, closing the door behind her. But as she walked back to her own apartment, a nagging thought crept into her mind: why had she cared so much in the first place? She shook her head, dismissing the question. Alistair Gomez and his unexpected baby were not her problem.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Riley. She spent the afternoon cleaning her apartment, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Alistair and the baby. But no matter how hard she tried, the image of him cradling the infant kept creeping into her mind.

By evening, she found herself pacing her living room, glancing at the clock and debating whether to check on them. It wasn’t her responsibility, she reminded herself. He was a grown man. He could handle it.

But what if he couldn’t?

With a frustrated sigh, Riley grabbed her phone and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

“Riley?” he said, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Just checking in,” she said briskly. “How’s it going over there?”

There was a pause, followed by a sheepish laugh. “Honestly? It’s... a lot.”

She could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and despite herself, she felt a pang of sympathy.

“Do you need help?” she asked before she could stop herself.

There was a pause, and then he said, “Would you mind?”

Riley sighed. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

When she knocked on his door, he opened it looking more disheveled than ever. The baby was in his arms, her tiny face scrunched up as she let out a wail that could probably be heard across the building.

“She’s been crying for the past hour,” Alistair admitted, looking utterly defeated. “I’ve tried everything. Feeding her, changing her, rocking her... nothing works.”

Riley took one look at him and shook her head. “Move aside.”

She stepped into the apartment, taking the baby from him and holding her close. The wailing subsided almost immediately, and Alistair stared at her in disbelief.

“How did you do that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

“It’s not rocket science,” she said, patting the baby’s back gently. “Sometimes they just need to be held by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

He looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite place. “You’re a lifesaver, Riley.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, but there was no bite in her tone.

As the baby settled into her arms, Riley felt a warmth spread through her chest—a strange, unexpected feeling that she couldn’t quite explain. And as she glanced at Alistair, standing there looking simultaneously exhausted and grateful, she realized that this was far from over.