“Mil, he said not to overthink it, but I’m overthinking it. What do you think he really meant by that?”
Millie rolls her eyes as if I’m annoying her. “Fucked if I know. He’s a male, and males say weird shit that doesn’t make sense all the time.” She continues to shovel caramel popcorn into her mouth; every third or fourth piece misses and falls between the cushions of my couch.
“Clean that shit up. I don’t want to end up with popcorn stuck to my butt.” Getting agitated, I move myself to the kitchen to make up a bottle for Rose, who’s due to wake up any minute now. Removing a bottle filled with water from the fridge, I set it in the microwave to warm it up then grab the can of formula from next to the sink; shit, it’s light.
I peer into the top of the can … Damn it.
“Mil, did you use the last of the formula when you made Rose’s last bottle?” I whisper-yell toward the living room where Millie is audibly still munching on popcorn. She whisper-yells back, “Uhh, yeah. But you have more, right?”
Throwing my hand to my forehead, I grind my teeth. Idiot, I’m such a fucking idiot. “Nope, it was on my shopping list for yesterday, and I forgot to get it.”
“Mom of the year award goes to …” She walks into the kitchen, bending slightly to drum her hands on her thighs. “Olive.” She laughs as if she has made the world’s funniest joke.
I stick my tongue out at her as I grab my keys and head for the door. “Going to grab some. I’ll be back in fifteen. If she wakes, please for the love of God”—I lift my head toward the roof as I speak—“just distract her. Whatever you have to do, do it.” I close the door as quietly as possible behind me.
Once at the store, I nab the formula off the shelf and drop it into the basket with the rest of the things I’ve tugged off the shelf ends on my way to the baby aisle. Mentally going through a checklist in my head, right … formula, coffee, sugar … and oh yeah, I’d better grab some milk for my coffee since I can’t remember if I had gotten any the day before.
Since having Rose, every day seems to blend into the next. Just when you think you’ve got it all under control, something comes along to mess with you a little.
Familiar rumbling laughter of a man has me turning my head toward the sound. Renee, the cashier, seems to be the cause of his laughter. Her hand flies to her mouth as she giggles in loud succession.
A frightening pang of jealousy hits me. I shouldn’t be jealous; there’s nothing to it.
Don’t overthink it, Olive. He’s just buying stuff.
The words ring hollowly as I try to wrap my head around them. I place the milk in the basket then move to duck behind the end display, trying to be inconspicuous. Renee’s hand leaves her mouth and finds Seb’s shoulder. Really? I can’t deal with this shit. Just when I think about putting myself back in the game, I find a reason to start doubting myself again.
Seb gives Renee a small grin then he’s strolling casually out of the automatic doors. Unfortunately for me, Renee is the only cashier on the registers. I square my shoulders and slowly appear out from behind the end display, trying to act indifferent as I place my items on the conveyer and stand with my head slightly lowered. Hopefully giving off a “don’t talk to me” vibe.
Apparently, it fails. Not reading my body language, Renee gushes, “Oh, hey Olive. Don’t you think that new guy, Sebastian, is hot?” Her hand goes to her head dramatically; I think she’s attempting to wipe the invisible sweat from her forehead. She thankfully stops and continues to scan my items.
I clear my throat, trying not to laugh.
“Sorry, what?” I play dumb. As if I didn’t just have my hands down his pants feeling exactly how hot he was the day before.
“Yoohoo.” She giggles with a wave of her hand. “You’re off with the pixies. Sebastian, I was just saying, isn’t he hot?” She makes the same gesture, wiping the invisible sweat again. Wow, she really needs to stop that. We were in drama class in high school together, and she is an even worse actress now than she was back then.
“Uhh, sure, he’s all right,” I mumble under my breath
Renee playfully slaps me on the shoulder. “Snap out of it. Come on, admit that he’s gotta be the hottest thing you’ve seen around here since Zeke left.”
What. The. Fuck. Is she serious right now?
I shove my fist into my bag and find the bills that I put in there, lifting out thirty dollars. “Keep the change.”
I slam it down on the counter, grab my bags, and get the hell out of there without so much as a goodbye.
Pulling up outside my house, I lift the bags and my purse from the passenger seat and climb out. The temperature outside is slowly rising, and it’s feeling more like spring as each day passes. The daisies in my garden would be almost ready to bloom. Walking through the door, I can hear Millie talking.
I put the grocery bags down on the counter and walk into the living room to find her sitting on the floor with her back resting on the couch, knees bent, and Rose perched up against them.
“Who’s a beautiful princess?” Millie says in a baby voice while holding Rose’s hands and swinging them around. It’s right then that I realize Rose is trying to smile. A real one.
“Oh, my God, Liv, get your phone out and take some photos. Our girl is legit smiling.” Turning around, I grab my bag, my hand diving inside to grab my phone. Swiping up quickly, I tap on the camera.
Millie does the same movement with her hands, and Rose shows off again. A gummy smile that is now imprinted in my memory and heart.
Knowing that Rose’s happiness will only last so long without being fed, I head for the kitchen and rewarm the bottle in the microwave. Dumping two scoops of formula into the bottle, I shake it vigorously, careful not to let the milk spurt out the top. Handing Millie the bottle, she lays Rose back more on her legs and brings it to her mouth. Rose instantly sucks furiously on the teat, guzzling the milk as if it’s her last bottle. Sighing, I plonk myself onto the floor next to them.
“What’s with the look on your face?”
I glare at her. “What look?”
“That look.” She laughs. “You look like someone told you that you couldn’t have coffee again after just getting it back in your life.”
I roll my eyes; that would be fucking awful, though.
Sighing, I decide to spill. “I saw Seb checking out at the grocery store. Renee served him. All googly-eyed and touching his shoulder.”
“Ugh, of course.” She wipes some milk from under Rose’s chin. “I bet he wasn’t interested, though.”
“That’s not the point.” I tilt my head back against the couch and rub my temples. “He can have whoever he wants, Mil. Who the hell am I to even think about stopping him from having a normal relationship with someone else?” I don’t want to be a selfish person and keep him for Rose and me when that might not be where he really wants to end up. And I’m not in the market for anything short-term. Hell, I didn’t even think I was in the market at all until Seb.
“You can’t be serious. Okay, wait. I’m beginning to think this is exactly what he meant when he told you not to overthink it,” Mil states as she sits Rose up to give her back a gentle pat. She burps and spits up some milk onto Millie’s shirt. I pass her some wet wipes.
“I know I’m being a Debbie Downer, but I’m just so damn confused. I don’t want to feel like this, but I can’t help it, though.”
“Liv, he may not have said it yet, but that man loves you and Rose. He wouldn’t have stuck around if he didn’t. I can see it, hell, practically feel it myself, every time he looks at you.” Millie speaks with urgency.
Trying to let her words sink in, I groan and drop my head into my hands, scrubbing my face, unable to understand why. Why in the world would a gorgeous, twenty-something male want to take on such a massive commitment?
“I think you need to start believing that this man might have shown up in your life for a reason. It may be unknown as to why, but it’s not rocket science that he wants you and only you.” Millie shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if I’m not contemplating risking this vital organ in my chest once more.
“I just don’t know if I can believe that yet, Mil.”
“You’ll see.” She hands me Rose from her lap, and I tuck her in close to my chest, inhaling that amazing baby smell. Millie stretches out her back and stands. “Well, I’ve gotta get home to shower before work. I smell like baby puke, and I don’t think the patients are gonna dig it.” Grabbing her bag from the coffee table, she moves to the door. “Love you, stinkers.”
“We love you too, Aunt Millie.”
I sit for a minute, trying to gather my spinning thoughts when there’s a knock on the door. Millie must’ve forgotten something and is too lazy to get her key out. I crawl to a stand, and with Rose tucked against my chest, I swing the door open a moment later.
“I don’t mean to be a bother, but can I borrow some milk?” Mary asks sweetly, a red smock on today. This is the third time Mary has come to ask for milk in the past two weeks.
“You’re in luck; I just went to the store. Come on in.” I wave her in with my free hand. I close the door and begin walking to the kitchen with her on my heels until her bony hand springs out to latch on to my arm.
“Oh, give me that baby. You can’t possibly hold little Rose while trying to pour some milk.” She smiles wide. God, I’m onto her. I gently hand a sleeping Rose over, and Mary moves to sit on my couch.
Returning from the kitchen after pouring a glass of milk, I place it on the coffee table. Mary is trying to be sly, but I see her slightly jiggle Rose around, trying to wake her up. She succeeds; Rose’s eyes fly open, and her arms begin to flail uncontrollably.
“Ooooh, shhh, don’t cry little Rose, Grandma Simmons just wanted to see those eyes of yours,” she coos at a screaming Rose. “Your mommy must need to feed you.”
“Nope. Millie fed her just before she left.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes; old people always think we younger generation are starving our children.
“Oh yes, I saw Millicent leave,” she says as she attempts to soothe Rose. I’m sure she did see her leave because she caught me alone, asking for milk … again.
“It’s okay, Mary, I’ll settle her.” She passes her over and attempts to stand from where she’s sitting. Age not being her friend, her joints click, causing me to wince and move over to try to help when she finally manages to get upright. She walks toward the door, waving goodbye. “You’re a good mommy, Olive.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Simmons. Don’t forget your milk.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry about the milk, dear. It doesn’t sit well in the tummy.” She pats her belly and sends me a wink as she closes the front door behind her.