The next morning, I'm feeling like a pack mule as I lug all of my stuff over there. It's not so far away that I need a car, and it's just long enough to make the handles of my bags dig into my hands. By the time I get to the porch, I'm disgruntled enough that I don't notice my big makeup kit knocking into one of the support beams of the porch. It makes an almighty sound. I hope none of the things inside with mirrors break.

"Good morning," Jeff says, opening the door. My knees feel weak. He hasn't shaved yet today and his hair is in disarray. "Danny woke up and starting barfing," he says.

Way to pour cold water on me. "Is he okay?"

"I think it's just a tiny bug," he says. "I already called the pediatrician's office. They said to monitor his temperature and bring him in if it seemed dangerous."

"Poor baby," I say.

"Can I help you with anything?" he says, looking at my luggage.

"My dad said last night that he wanted me to live with you while he was gone."

"He's leaving today, then?"

"Didn't you guys talk about this last night?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't set in stone."

"Dad is already gone. He went out on the first flight this morning," I tell Jeff.

"Damn," he says. "What's wrong?"

"With your dad in the air, today's going to be more hectic than usual. I'll probably go to the office."

"It's going to be fine. Danny and I will be okay."

There's a hint of worry in his eyes. I don't know if Danny has genuinely gotten sick before today. Colic, yeah, but that's not really a disease.

"I'll call you if we need you. Where's the pediatrician's number?"

"I'll write it on the big whiteboard." In his kitchen, there's a giant whiteboard with a ton of magnets. His dead wife must have put it there. It's utterly practical. He walks to it and writes down a phone number he must know by heart. It strikes me then how scary it would be to have my first child alone, something having a ton of money can't erase.

"Get dressed and shave," I say firmly.  "Danny will be fine."

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "I hope so." He walks away and up the stairs. I shove my stuff into the guest bedroom downstairs before going to see Danny. Danny's room smells like vomit, even though Jeff already cleaned up the evidence. Danny is restlessly moving around even though he's asleep. I'm prepared for him to throw up again. I go to the thermostat and turn it off. I open up the windows to let out the gross smell. I can hear the shower running as Jeff gets ready for work.

I yank out my phone and start looking up what to do if a baby has a cold. Apparently fevers are okay as long as they are under 101 degrees. I tilt the mattress under the baby so that he's a little elevated. His little face is screwed up like he's about to start crying in his sleep.

"Poor little guy," I say, pulling him into my arms.

As expected, Danny begins to cry. The volume increases exponentially, but I'm used to it now.

"I know you're sick, little buddy," I say, patting his back. "I wonder if your daddy has fed you yet?" "No," Jeff says.

When I turn around, I have to swallow really hard.

Jeff is only wearing a towel around his waist. He obviously didn't take time to dry off when he got out of the shower, because there's water dripping everywhere. He looks like a female fantasy come to life.

"Danny is fine," I say. "You're getting the floor wet."

He looks down at the wet imprints his feet have left on the carpet and walks away, giving my heart a little space to slow down. Holy shit. He looks fine as hell. He has a six pack that doesn't have an ounce of anything extra on it.

"I'll tell you a secret, Danny." He's pulled a chunk of my hair into his mouth again to munch on it. I pull it away from him, but he immediately yanks it back. I give up. There are worse things than hair to put in his mouth.

"I love you," I coo to him. "Even when you're cranky and sick. And that's between us."

With Danny temporarily quieted by the tasty snack of my hair, I can feed him. I walk with him downstairs and into the kitchen. I get out some formula and make a bottle with Danny in my arms. When I attempt to put him into the bouncer, he screams like it's made of molten lava.

"Okay, fine!" I tell him. I need to ask Jeff if he has a baby wrap or sling so that I can carry Danny and do other stuff. Somehow, I manage to give Danny a bottle, which he guzzles down as if he hasn't had anything to eat for a week. I guess his little stomach is empty after barfing. I kiss his forehead and keep a hand on the bottle. When he's eaten all of it, I put a burp cloth over my shoulder and pat his little back to help him burp. He lets out a truly disgusting belch and I can feel the wetness seep through the burp cloth.

"Starting the day out right." I kiss his tiny ear. "It's okay." Babies barfed. It was part of the territory.

"You're sure that you'll be okay? If you need me, I'll stick around." I wave Jeff away with a hand as I spin to face him. "Danny and I are going to be fine."

"Then I better get in the car."

He leaves without another word. I go to the living room and put Danny on a blanket on his stomach. He pushes himself up in the cobra position. I mimic him and his little eyes go big. He lifts one hand and overbalances. I comically over-exaggerate falling over, too. Danny giggles uncontrollably, beginning to roll around on the blanket. He's so easy to please, so easy to love. I tickle his full tummy. I don't think that he's sick anymore. He seems happy enough.