“Vomit! I repeat, we have vomit!”
The sound of Millie’s voice and Rose’s wailing has me shooting upright in bed before my eyes have even opened. I scrub my palms over them and swing my legs over the side of the bed, looking around to take stock of my surroundings. The late afternoon sun is creeping in through the gauzy curtains, a blaring indication that I slept way longer than I meant to. I’m in my room, which is a mess. The twisted bed sheets at the foot of the bed are half on the floor. Diapers, wet wipes, and pacifiers sit on my bedside table where my favorite paperbacks and knickknacks had been just one week ago.
That week feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s also gone by in a blur. I didn’t know a thing about taking care of an infant; I had never even been around many babies in my life. I don’t know why, but I stupidly just assumed it would come naturally, to some extent at least. And it has, kind of. Except for one thing; my baby doesn’t stop crying. And I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or how we’ve even made it through this first week since her debut into the world.
“Liv, you up? I kind of need to change my shirt, on account of baby vomit finding a home in my cleavage.” I look at the door as the sound of Millie’s voice travels down the hall. Then I look down at myself, checking to make sure I’m actually wearing clothes. Leggings and the same t-shirt I put on after my shower last night—I mentally shrug—I think I’m going to need about two days’ worth of sleep to start feeling human enough to care. Millie comes into my room and shoves a dirty romper and burp cloth off the bed to sit down.
I yawn, glancing over at the person responsible for helping me make it through this crazy time with Rose. Well, her and Seb—I honestly don’t know how I would’ve done it without them. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t even have to ask; they just keep showing up like clockwork between their shifts.
Then my gaze shifts to the reason behind all this exhaustion, the reason my boobs ache like they’ve turned into cement boulders that leak all the damn time, the reason for my house looking like a tornado swept through it, the reason behind my whole life changing … And despite wanting to cry from feeling so totally overwhelmed at times, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
She’s cocooned in Millie’s arm, her squishy face a sight I’ll never get tired of looking at. With a tiny smattering of brown hair, rosy cheeks, tiny little lips, ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m her mom, so I’m fully aware I’m probably biased. Now that’s she’s here, I’m almost paralyzed by this overwhelming love for her. People often talk about bonding with their baby when they’re in the womb, about loving them so much already, and I did. But it was nothing like this. This all-consuming, die-for-you-a-thousand-times kind of love.
I reach down to the hem of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head before undoing the clasp on the front of my maternity bra. I don’t feel self-conscious at all after everything Millie has been through with me and baby Rose. I reach over to take her from Millie before I gently settle her and try to get her to latch on. Which is only one of the issues she’s been having. My milk came in days ago, but she never seems satisfied.
“I’m going to go change quickly,” Millie says. I nod and thank her before she heads out to her bag in the living room; she learned early on to bring extra clothing. Turning back to Rose, I get her to latch on this time, but it only lasts a minute before she’s unlatched and is working herself into another crying fit. I try the other breast, but she doesn’t want anything to do with it in this state, so I put her down in front of me in the center of my bed and quickly right my bra and shirt. Then I pick her up and try to settle her with a walk around the house and some gentle rocking.
After five minutes, she settles and falls asleep. It’s then that I realize I haven’t seen Millie since she said she was changing her shirt. I’m about to head to the guest room to see if she’s fallen asleep when the front door opens and I turn to see Seb walking in with some grocery bags, still wearing his work clothes.
“Hey,” he whispers when he sees Rose sleeping in my arms, and what I’m sure is my stressed, sleep rumpled face. I smile and mouth, “Hello,” to him. He takes the bags through to the kitchen, and I hear him trying to put them away as quietly as possible.
I don’t even know how it happened, but since I came home from the hospital, he’s been here just as much as Millie has—if not more. I usually wake up in the night with Rose to find him asleep on the couch. He’s even woken up before me and tried to settle her without waking me up before realizing that she won’t calm without feeding. Then he’d come and wake me up, looking apologetic.
The other morning, I actually got to sit down and eat breakfast when he came through the door from work. Depending on his hours, he always seems to be here at some point every day. I don’t even know if he’s been going home, but I’ve heard the shower run countless times over the fog of the last week. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was keeping a bag of clothes in his truck.
I honestly don’t know what to make of it. I know things are or were changing between us, but we haven’t even had a chance to catch our breaths, let alone discuss it. If I thought seeing him with Rose when Zeke is meant to be the one here with her would hurt, then I was wrong. When I look at them together, it feels right in a way that makes the blood heat in my veins, and my heart skip a beat. He’s amazing with her—so much so that I felt like a bumbling idiot for the first couple of days.
Once I know Rose is asleep, I move her into the bassinet in my room and switch the baby monitor on before closing the door halfway. I quickly head to the bathroom and brush my hair and teeth before doing a sniff test—I’ll pass.
I find Seb taking his work jacket off and switching the tea kettle on. Thank God. I’m still sticking to decaf or tea due to breastfeeding, but I need something right now.
“Hey, how was work?” I’m not even going to think about how happy family that just sounded. He takes two mugs out of the cupboard and preps them. I grab the milk and put it on the counter beside him.
“All right. How’s Rose?” He turns and leans a hip against the counter, propping one socked foot behind the other. “Any improvement with getting her to settle?” If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d probably be mentally undressing him right about now. With his work pants, white under-t, and messy brown hair that looks like he’s run his fingers through it a thousand times today—he looks like he belongs on one of those freaking calendars with hot men holding kittens.
“Liv?” Damn it.
I raise my bleary eyes to his, feeling a little sheepish. He just smirks at me.
“Still no improvement. She only lasted a minute when I fed her earlier.”
I scrub my hands down my cheeks in frustration and exhaustion. “I don’t know what else to do. She’ll take the bottle and happily drink at least a little from that. It’s like it tastes different from my boob or something.” I flush when I realize I’m talking to Seb, not Millie. He may have been here a lot over the past week, but I’ve managed to keep some things to myself. At least, I hope I have.
“Liv, look at me.”
Why do men always say that when they specifically know that you don’t freaking want to? I suck in a deep breath and raise my eyes.
“Yes?”
He finishes making our drinks before handing mine over and standing next to me.
“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I’ve seen and heard a lot of shit in my line of work. You talking about breastfeeding—hell, you can even breastfeed in front me—it’s nothing. Please don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed to talk about it with me.” He grasps my chin and tips it up slightly. “Being a concerned mother who’s trying to look after her baby is nothing to be embarrassed about. You have fantastic tits, Liv, before and especially after having Rose. Nothing you say or do is going to stop me from wanting you … whenever you’re ready.” He leans in and lightly touches his lips to the top of my forehead right near my hairline. A touch I feel all the way down to the tips of my toes. He moves away and picks up his mug to take a sip of his coffee.
I’m trying to wrap my sleep-deprived brain around what he just said when Millie comes through the door like she’s on a mission.
We both turn to see her nudge the door gently closed behind her with her elbow, holding her wallet and keys in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other.
“She’s asleep?” Seb and I both nod. She comes in and places the bag on the counter before washing her hands then going to the bottle sanitizer and plucking out a bottle, teat, and lid. Placing them down, she fishes a canister of what looks like formula out of the bag and places it on the counter. She turns to me with her hands braced on her hips, looking like she means business. Okay then.
“I know you’re her mom, and you’re allowed to call me a pushy bitch and tell me to mind my own damn business if you want, but that baby is hungry. Like all the freaking time.” She takes a breath, and I know where she’s going with this, but I let her continue anyway. “This”—she points at the formula—“might help. We all love Rose, but goddamn, you look like a zombie, Liv. Just give it a try.” She visibly braces, waiting for my response. I see Seb rub his neck, looking back and forth between us.
“Okay,” is all I say.
“Just one bottle, all right. Just one and let’s see how she goes–wait, what?”
I laugh. “I said okay, jeez.” I pick up my tea and take a sip before continuing. “I’ve been thinking about switching anyway. I can only see her crying like this for so long before I’ll lose it. I don’t care either way. Whatever makes her happier will undoubtedly make me happier.”
I take more sips from my mug while Millie just stares at me wide-eyed.
Seb speaks up first. “Okay, let’s get some bottles made up and see how she does.” Millie snaps back into action, and I smile gratefully at him before putting my mug down and going to help Mil.
I take a shower while Rose is still asleep. I’m combing my wet hair out when there’s a knock on the door. I open it slightly, still only wearing a towel, to see Seb in the hallway with a wide-eyed, squirming Rose in the crook of his tattooed arm. A sight that never fails to make me melt.
“Sorry, just wanted to check before we give her a bottle. She’s starting to fuss.” I nod and tell him to go for it then finish getting dressed before making my way out to the living room. I find him sitting with Rose, and she’s happily sucking away on the bottle. Of course, she is. I don’t think he’s seen me yet, so I take the chance to run back to my room and grab my phone to take a sneaky picture. He looks up to see me standing there just as I snap the photo. I send it to his phone and then place my phone on the coffee table.
Sitting down on the couch, I ask, “She okay?” He nods, and I adjust the burp cloth over his shoulder, ready to catch some spit up if needed.
Rose has her eyes closed, and she almost looks like she’s about to pass out before she remembers she has a job to do then promptly starts sucking again. Repeating the process until it finally slips out of her mouth, and she really does look like she’s passed out.
“I think she’s entered what’s called a milk coma,” Seb says on a quiet chuckle. He passes me the bottle then wipes the excess milk from under her chin before he moves her to his shoulder, which has her eyes opening again as he gently rubs her back. She lets out a whine followed by her hugest burp yet, and a bit of spit up dribbles down from her mouth. I reach over to make sure it’s caught on the cloth and not Seb’s shirt—though it wouldn’t be the first time. He burps her a little more before bringing her back down to settle in the crook of his arm again.
We both stare at her as he strokes a large finger against her tiny brow, and her eyes slowly drift shut. I want to hold her so bad right now, but I don’t have the heart to disturb moments like these, which happen quite often with these two. There’s no denying my growing feelings for this man, but I just can’t even wrap my head around my own life right now, let alone a relationship. That ever-present fear won’t quit. I don’t know how to erase the damage Zeke inflicted on my heart or even if some part of me—that I’m trying desperately to ignore—will ever really stop loving him. These scars feel like they’re here to stay.
I sigh, laying my head back to rest it against the couch. Soon, I feel my own eyes start to slowly close when there’s a knock on the door. We haven’t had a lot of visitors since arriving home; just Mrs. Simmons, who says she has a fear of germs in hospitals, who came over the day we got home. Almost everyone I know in this town came to see us in the hospital. Linda helped settle us in at home on the first day but left that night, and besides a few phone calls, I haven’t seen her again. I think it’s maybe to give me some space to get settled, knowing I’ve got help here if I need it. Which I appreciate. I couldn’t have dealt with a screaming baby and visitors popping in every day.
But I have a feeling those days might be over as I hear Millie answer the door with a whisper-hissed, “What do you want, butt breath? We’ve finally got a sleeping baby here.” I know instantly that it’s Beau. He visited me briefly in the hospital, too. I get up and head to the door because despite being Zeke’s best friend, I need to remember that he’s my friend too. He’s welcome to come see Rose and me if he wants. I actually really appreciate that he cares.
“I came to see that baby and Liv, darlin’. Gonna move that fine ass of yours outta the way, or do I need to pick you up and place—”
“Not necessary,” I cut him off with a wide smile. “Come on.” I grab Millie’s hand and move her back to let him through unscathed. She reluctantly allows me to before closing the door behind him.
He leans in to give me a hug. “How you doin’?” He pulls back to study me.
“All right, now that I’ve got a sleeping baby with a full tummy and I’ve had a shower.” I laugh.
“She sleeping? Damn. Where is she?”
“God, you’re a douche. I literally just told you that.”
“Now, now, Millicent.” He grins. “Do I need to wash that mouth of yours out with—” I cut him off again in an effort to keep his visit as PG-rated as possible.
“Ohhhkay, Rose is this way.” I gesture over my shoulder toward the living room where we find Seb flicking through his phone and a still sleeping Rose in the crook of his arm.
“Dude, total chick magnet.” Beau grins when he sees them. Seb puts his phone down and raises his hand in a wave.
“No one is using my niece as a freaking chick magnet,” Millie hisses at him.
Beau raises his hands in defense as he moves to sit on the opposite couch.
“Slow your roll, Millicent. I was kidding.”
She scoffs before sitting on the other armchair.
“Want a drink?” I ask.
He declines and moves off the chair to get a closer look at Rose.
He smiles over at me, speaking softly. “She’s stunning for a squishy looking thing.”
Seb smirks and rubs her tiny foot with his other hand.
“Squishy, really?” Mil rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, I mean not as bad as when I first saw her. But you know how newborns look, all squished up and shit for a while.”
I laugh as quietly as I can but can’t exactly disagree. Even if they are adorable.
Millie looks like she wants to reach over and smack him upside the head.
“All right, so who wants takeout … uh, again?” I ask.
Seb glances over at me. “I got some stuff to make dinner with. I’ll get started when she wakes up.”
Jesus, Christ. What did I do to deserve this man? And better yet, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?