Babies aren’t my thing. I don’t know how to care for them, though I’m not stupid. I get they need food and clean diapers. I know they get gassy and can’t burp properly—though why they’re defective in this way is a mystery I don’t care to clear up. Knowing all the basic stuff doesn’t prepare me for when Candy hands Magnus to me one day.

“You’re on. I’ll play backup. Let’s see if you’ve got the mama gene,” Candy says when she and I are alone at the house. “No worries if you don’t. My sister doesn’t have it, and she has four fucking kids. She loves them plenty, and they turned out fine, but motherhood was always harder for her than it should be.”

“What do I do with it?”

“First tip, don’t call babies ‘it.’ They’re people and like when you use their names. Now Magnus has been fed recently and will want to play before his nap.”

“So do I put him on the floor to play?”

“Does he seem like he wants to go on the floor?”

I look at the dark-haired baby who gnaws on his fist and stares at his approaching siblings. When the mini-twins get closer, Magnus bounces on my hip and points his drool-covered hand at them.

“He likes you,” I mumble at the staring children.

“He’s our little brother,” the girl says in an empty voice.

“He knows we love him,” the boy says in the same voice.

“Do you know what will happen if you don’t take good care of him?” the girl asks.

“Your mom will beat me up?” I ask, refusing to be afraid of children even if they’re nearly as tall as me.

“No,” the boy says, stepping closer and patting his brother on the head. “We’ll gut you like a fish. Don’t think Uncle Cap can stop us.”

“We’re patient,” the girl adds. “We can wait until he isn’t around to protect you. We’ll use our gut hooks to open you up and see what’s inside.”

Glancing at the baby on my hip and then the mini-twins, I shake my head. “Your threats are dumb and not nearly as scary as what your brother might make in his diapers. Now go away.”

“Minnie, she doesn’t believe,” the boy says and turns to his sister. “She needs to be educated.”

“We shouldn’t gut her then. Better for us to cut open her skull and fix that brain of hers.”

Candy remains silent until they finish their threats. “Your mom is waiting. Stop being psychos and get in the car before I ground you for getting on my nerves.”

The kids turn to their grandmother in a single movement, doing the creepy twin move. She puts up her hand as if to say stop. Then her thumb folds into her hand.

“Four,” she says, and another finger folds in. “Three.”

The boy rolls his eyes and takes off running for the front door with his sister close behind. They stop to wave at their brother before disappearing outside.

“I forget their names,” I admit.

“Murphy and Minnow. They’re going through a phase where they enjoy threatening people, but I’m sad to report they haven’t injured a single person.”

“Sad?”

Candy attempts to wrap her short blonde hair into a ponytail before realizing it’s not long enough. “That’s a lot of bluster with no follow-through. Can you imagine if they do that with everything in life? My senior years don’t involve loser grandchildren.”

Candy might be kidding, but I doubt it. She says what she wants without worrying about the consequences.

“Seriously, though, what do I do with Magnus?”

“Sit on the couch with him on your lap,” Candy instructs. “Sit him, so he’s facing you.”

Magnus’s eyes light up when I balance his diaper-covered butt on my legs. He makes a clicking sound and holds onto my hands with his wet ones.

“Now talk to him and bounce gently. He’ll talk back and probably try to tear out your hair. He tends to have a chunk of Cricket’s in his fist at all times. I think he lost his last handful when she changed his diapers.”

“Okay, I can do this,” I tell the kid who smacks his lips and drools. “Should he be leaking this much?”

“Yes. His teeth are coming in.”

“Aww, poor little man,” I whisper to him. “I had my wisdom teeth pulled a few years back, and gum pain sucks.”

Magnus is a happy baby, though he does manage to snag my hair and tug free a decent amount. I’m just relieved he isn’t crying. Screaming babies are torture, and I’m not emotionally strong enough to handle one.

An hour later, Candy takes the happy boy from my lap where he’s been drinking breast milk from a bottle. Earlier, I played with him on the floor and crawled next to his lame attempts. We had fun, but I think he’s a trick baby. Like the one people pawn off to get unsuspecting fertile women to agree to breed.

As if disproving my point, Candy exchanges a sleepy, smiley Magnus with the whining, grouchy Sierra. No way does she think this baby will encourage me to give her a grandbaby.

“I want that one back,” I say, reaching for Magnus.

“His tooth came out a few days ago. You wouldn’t have wanted him before then. Sierra is ready to get another tooth. In a week, she’ll be like him. That’s how babies work. They roll in cycles. Now you lose the sweet one to naptime and gain the bitchy one for the third circle of hell.”

Sierra screams when I bounce her. She screams when I play with her. She screams when I ditch her and run for the door.

“She’s in pain,” Candy says, corralling me back to the abandoned baby. “If you were in pain and helpless, would you want people to run away?”

“No, but I’m not in pain and helpless. I’m in pain and capable of escaping.”

“Take care of that baby,” Candy says, going the tough love route. “If you survive the next hour until Tatum arrives, I’ll never ask you to babysit again.”

“Promise?” I ask, picking up the screaming baby.

“On the life of my newest daughter-in-law.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glare as she rubs something on the baby’s gums before strolling out of the room.

“Sierra, screaming isn’t really helping your situation,” I tell the red-faced blonde baby.

Hearing her name, she stares into my eyes with her big blue ones. I can’t deny she looks miserable. Not “crabby baby being a pain in the ass” miserable, but “suffering from constant pain and begging the world to make it go away” miserable.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say, bouncing her as I walk around the room.

Sierra cries. Tugs at my shirt. Smacks her head on my shoulder. Even reaches for the heavens to save her from the pain. I think back to when my wisdom teeth were pulled. I was out of it on pain meds but still cranky. Mom sat on the couch with a pillow in her lap while I rested on it. She rubbed my head gently, hummed to me, helped me drink water, and kept me comfortable. I remember looking up at her and realizing no one made me feel better than my mom. Even at eighteen, I loved when she took care of me.

I talk to Sierra in a quiet voice, telling her things that make no sense to her little brain. She whines and slobbers and occasionally thrashes in my arms as if being down will fix what’s broken. I just keep walking around the room, bouncing her gently, and talking about my mom.

“She’s a teacher,” I tell Sierra when the girl finally rests her head on my shoulder. “She could have stopped working years ago. In fact, she could have never worked because Pop could support the family, but Mom wanted to teach. I remember how kids would see her at the grocery store and get so excited. That’s how I found out my mom was cool. Then when I started school, other kids would tell me how lucky I was to have Missus Johansson as my mom. I felt special because my mom was special. One day, I hope you look at your mom and see how much she loves you. That’s a really great feeling to have, and I got to feel like that a lot growing up.”

Sierra eventually quiets, but she doesn’t want to be put down. Remaining in my arms, she’s heavy as hell, and I eventually have to sit. She holds on tightly to me, resting her head on my chest while gnawing relentlessly on her fist.

By the time Tatum arrives, I don’t think I can return to empty arms. The weight of Sierra is part of me now, and I crave everything about her.

“My poor baby,” Tatum says, reaching for Sierra. “She’s been so miserable the last day.”

“I can keep holding her.”

“That’s sweet, Audrey, but we need to go home so I can make dinner.”

“You could leave her here. I’ll watch her while you cook dinner.”

Tatum’s green eyes flash with an emotion I’m unfamiliar with but suspect is pity. She glances back at the Irish twins whose faces are covered except for their eyes.

“Audrey, please hand me the baby.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“She feels good in my arms.”

Tatum kneels in front of me and caresses her daughter’s back. “I know, but we need to leave, and you’re acting weird, and I don’t want to have to wrestle you for Sierra.”

Frowning, I wrap my arms around the baby and listen to her breathe. “She was so unhappy, and now she’s calm. It feels right to have her with me. I know you want her back, but I really want to keep her.”

“Want me to hold her down, Mom?” Mesa asks.

“No, we’re okay,” Tatum says in a soft voice. “Audrey, I’m going to take Sierra from you now. She’ll probably cry because she’s tired and teething. I’ll bundle her up and take her to the car. Soon, Magnus will be awake, and you can hold him. Afterward, Cap will return to the house, and you can ask him to make a baby in you so you’ll have one of your own to hold. Does that sound like a plan you can work with?”

Tatum’s a good mom. I don’t need to see her in action to know this fact. She reminds me of my mom. Her soothing voice hypnotizes me. I want to please Tatum, just like I do my mom.

Taking a deep breath, I open my arms so Tatum can pick up Sierra. The little girl fusses immediately but quiets once she sees her mom’s face. She sighs as if relieved. That’s how I felt when Mom came home from weekends away with Pop. I wouldn’t even think I missed her until I saw her again and realized I’d spent two days waiting to hug her again.

Though I don’t know if I’ll ever be as good a mom as mine, I realize I’m ready to find out. Based on Candy’s smirk when she emerges from the back of the house, that was the plan all along.