Chapter Thirty-Four
Shelby
The elevator door opened, letting me out into the lobby. I cast a look over at the daycare, where Damien wasn't as I walked out. Two days it had taken for me to stop walking there automatically at the end of the day before leaving. Having Damien out of reach a few hours every afternoon had been... not bad exactly, but I couldn't say good either. He was my baby, of course, I wanted to be near him, but if he wasn't then at least he was with his other parent. Paula had been beyond capable, an absolute pro, but Jason was his dad. That beat a stranger every day, no matter how qualified.
It was Friday, and I was heading to Jason's to get Damien. Since it was Friday though, we'd probably spend a little time over there before leaving. Why not? I knew Jason would want us to. He tried to coax me to stay every time I went over there. It wasn't his fault that I was exhausted after work, but he did, unfortunately, get me at my most uncooperative. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with him; we just didn't have all that much time to begin with. With that, I didn't want to rush things. The last time that I got comfortable with him, it blew up in my face.
One challenge at a time was more than enough. I guess I hadn't really thought ahead much about what dating for me would have been like with a kid. I had just gotten comfortable with Davis, and I hadn't wondered how I would have tackled a relationship alongside parenting Damien. I guess it was just my luck that the guy I was sleeping with now happened to be Damien's dad and seemed to want to make things work. Yeah, that was lucky, wasn't it? So what the fuck are you waiting for?
I got to Jason's place and knocked. He took a minute to get to the door. I tried again. Wasn't he home? Why wasn't he coming to the door? I opened my purse, looking for the key he had given me. I was going to give him one too; it just made more sense for me to have one of his since I was around here more than he was around my place. That was what I kept telling myself. I opened the door and let myself in. The kitchen was tidy, just a couple of Damien's empty bottles near the sink and the can of formula that he gave him sitting on the counter. Formula feeding wasn't that serious; some people had to do it. It wasn't Jason's fault he didn't have breasts. It was totally safe for babies anyway. Maybe I could start pumping when I came to pick up and get Jason to freeze it, I wondered. It would save him money if he was okay with having my tit milk in his fridge.
I walked through to the living and bedroom area. That space was a mess. Toys were everywhere, scattered across the floor and carpet. The changing table was folded out, and a pizza box, the remnants of what must have been Jason's lunch was on the dining table with his books and laptop. It better have been Jason's; he wasn't getting Damien on the grease this early. The two of them were on the bed, fast asleep. I smiled looking at them; it was so cute. Would it be out of line to take a picture of them? Jason was asleep on his side, and Damien was on his, nestled close to his chest.
I had been too paranoid to do the co-sleeping thing when he had been smaller, choosing to have a bassinet near my bed instead, but I had napped with him a few times. Speaking of naps, what was I going to do with the two of them knocked out anyway? I put my purse down on the floor by the bed and shrugged my jacket off. Stepping gratefully out of my heels, I got on the bed with them. Kissing Damien's head softly, I rested my own on the pillow, glad Jason had chosen to splurge on a king bed even though his apartment was the size of a closet. The sun went down as I drifted off to sleep.
I heard voices. Neither made sense, but there were two of them. What was it about napping that made you feel totally disoriented when you finally woke up? I sighed, turning onto my back. I opened my eyes, squinting. Damien was on the bed next to me, babbling in my ear. I smiled, easing his little hand out of my hair. He tugged it whenever it was down. Falling asleep had loosened the ponytail I had thrown my hair into that day.
"Morning, sunshine," Jason said. He was sitting on my other side, grinning down at Damien and me.
"It's nighttime," I grumbled. He smiled, smoothing loose hairs off my forehead, leaning down and kissing me there. "How long have I been out?"
"Not that long. I just woke up," he said. He kissed me again, on the lips. Slow and romantic. I parted my lips, letting him. He pulled away, running a thumb over my cheek. "I love you; you know that?" My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed. He had asked me a question; I wanted that to mean that he didn't want me to say anything back. If he was expecting something, he was about to be disappointed. I frowned at him, shaking my head. He laughed at me, kissing me again. "Now you do."
"What am I supposed to do with that?" I asked.
"Deal with it," he said, shrugging. "No sign of stopping or even slowing down. Are you hungry?" he asked, getting up. Really? That was what he wanted to know after he had told me that he loved me? He hadn't told me anything really, just asked me whether I knew. That didn't even count. What a cop-out. Didn't stop the fluttering I felt in my stomach when he said it though.
"Do you mean whatever's left in that box?" I asked. He walked over to the table and picked the empty pizza box up.
"Leftovers. Sorry about the mess."
"Is it messy? I hadn't noticed," I said. A slight pink blush rose in his cheeks as he looked down and I had this sudden urge to kiss him. He could be cute, I guessed, when he was embarrassed. When he wasn't being annoying.
"I'm all out of food, so what do you feel like having?" he asked. How did he eat the way he did and stay in shape? It wasn't fair, I thought, checking him out. Not a single spare pound of fat on him. I sat up and scooped Damien into my lap from where he had been, scooting his way across the bed.
"Chinese?" I suggested. He asked me whether I had anything I wanted in particular, but I told him I'd just have whatever he was having. He made the call, walking around the little room, picking Damien's toys off the floor and tossing them into the playpen. Early, months before, I had dreaded ever seeing his face again, now look where we were: about to stay in on a Friday night eating Chinese like someone's boring parents, which we were, technically.
It felt so, I don't know, domestic. Homey. It was ridiculous, this place was tiny, but it felt so warm. There was nowhere I could think about being more than right there with Jason and our baby. It was peaceful and comfortable. Was it because he had just told me that he loved me? Was this what love was meant to feel like? I had loved people in the past, but this was different. I shared more with Jason than anyone I had ever been with. I had been through more with him too. Just because this relationship had been the most dramatic didn't mean it was the most real, I told myself. I had never felt more at home in another person's apartment before. Spending Friday night eating Chinese food with Jason sounded better than eating a gourmet meal with anyone else at a restaurant. Weren't you just supposed to know when you had it? If this was what it felt like, I didn't think I had even come close in the past.
I got up, deciding to be useful and checked if Damien needed changing. I walked across the room to use the changing table he had gotten, even though the mat placed on the couch, bed, or floor would have worked just as well. He had gotten a little carried away buying him things; it was okay, it had happened to me too. First-time parents were easy targets. I would never get back the money that I had spent on a wipe warmer that a saleswoman had convinced me that I needed, now collecting dust somewhere at home. When he got off the phone, I asked him what he thought about freezing breastmilk for Damien so he wasn't having formula.
"What's wrong with the formula?"
"Nothing, but breastmilk's free. It comes out on its own when he isn't drinking it, and it’s supposed to be everything they need for the first six months. I could just pump, and you can freeze it."
"How long does it keep?" he asked.
"Damien needs feeding every few hours; it wouldn't be around long enough to go bad." He made a noncommittal sound, walking past us.
"Guess I could always use it if it's been lying around too long."
"Use it for what? Ugh, no, don't tell me," I said, buttoning Damien back into his clothes. Jason laughed.
"That stuff's coming out of you all the time; you've never tried it?"
"No, I have not tried it," I said. He laughed at my reaction. I had warned him about playing with my nipples when we had sex, but it clearly didn't bother him. We always had a lot to talk about when it came to Damien, but then, we always seemed to have something to say when we weren't talking about him too. Even when we weren't talking at all, if I didn't have anything to say, I didn't feel pressured to fill the silence.
The food arrived, and Jason went to pay for it. I found us some plates in the kitchen, thank god he had more than two, and brought them out. He was at his bed; good call since the table, though tidy now, was still crowded with stuff. I went over and put Damien down, giving Jason a plate. He had gotten potstickers, lo mein, orange chicken, a little of everything. We were not going to get through it all, not tonight. Maybe for breakfast the next morning though.
Waking up with him sounded amazing. I already felt so comfortable here with him. We ate together, sitting on his bed. Tired of Damien making grabs for our food, I gave him a bit off a fortune cookie, which he sucked on till it turned to mush. Do we really have to go home tonight, I wondered. It wasn't so much the going home that mattered, it was the being with Jason, wherever we were.
"Jason," I said, as he shoveled more lo mein onto my plate, more than I'd be able to finish.
"Hm?"
"I love you too," I said. He smirked, putting down the takeout box.
"Yeah. I know." He laughed as I rolled my eyes.
"Just for that, I take it back."
"Nope. We have a witness,” he said, motioning at Damien. “You love me," he teased smugly. Guess that cocky bastard he used to be never really went away. I'd let him have that one. He wasn't wrong anyway. He had probably known that I loved him before I did; all I had done was admit it.