I wasn’t an expert when it came to women, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was one thing I was certain of.

Lyla was acting odd.

At first, I thought she was having an off week. People tend to have those, especially women, what with all those hormones running rampant.

I brushed it off as a time-of-the-month thing, not that I knew much about how that worked, nor did I care to know.

However, it was clear that something was bothering her.

I caught her staring into space on more than one occasion, she’d been crying at the strangest of things, and then at other times, she’d just snap at the drop of a feather.

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Afterwards, she was always horrified, and she’d rush out of the room before I could even begin to comfort her.

Women are such strange beings.

They accuse us of sending mixed signals, but Lyla hadn’t even let me touch her in weeks. Whenever I just casually draped my arm across her shoulder, she would shift so that it fell off.

If I moved in to kiss her, she would claim that she was tired. I tried not to let it hurt my feelings, but it’s hard when you’re being turned down repeatedly without a clear reason.

Whatever was bothering her, I wished she would just tell me so we could clear the air. I knew that the situation between us wasn’t ideal, but we’d managed to stay friendly beforehand, so there was no reason we couldn’t do that now.

Even if the dynamics were different.

Being married didn’t mean we had to do everything differently.

Maybe that was what was bothering her.

That things weren’t really changing.

I knew it wasn’t a real marriage, and perhaps I needed to act like it to get her to stop moping.

I wanted Lyla to be happy, more than I wanted to maintain the illusion that this was just a business deal, and that I wasn’t falling for her.

Because there was no point in pretending otherwise.

I was whipped.

Utterly and completely, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I sat on the couch with my feet propped on the table, aimlessly flipping through the TV as my mind went over the possibilities.

What if the reason Lyla wasn’t happy was because she was tired of pretending? After all, she’d proposed marriage as a short-term solution, not a long term one.

It was entirely possible that she was getting tired of waiting to be free of me.

Lyla was young, attractive, smart and kind.

Why would she want to be stuck with an old sod like me? And one with a baby, no less. Sure, she loved Emily, and I knew Emily loved her, but at her age, surely it wasn’t enough.

Nobody expects the baby before the marriage.

There’s supposed to be the honeymoon stage first, and I hadn’t done nearly enough of the romancing and treating her the way she deserved to be treated.

Not that I knew how, but still, I needed to try.

Every woman deserves a man who tries.

I settled on a Hallmark movie, and I leaned back against the couch, allowing my body to wind down after a long day.

I supposed the long hours at work didn’t help. We were swamped lately, and I had no idea why, so I wasn’t making it home before 9 pm, and sometimes later than that.

I understood that it meant that Lyla was home alone with Emily a lot, and it must’ve gotten boring and lonely, but I hadn’t the first idea of how to even begin to fix that.

I couldn’t change my job, and it’s not like Lyla could leave Emily and go out. Obviously, she still got one night a week off, but she mostly just went out for a few hours then came back, because she didn’t have any friends.

It was hard feeling like an outcast in a close-knit community like this. People tended to stick to their groups, and they rarely ventured outside, or took in new people.

A lot of the gossip surrounding Lyla didn’t help, and the fact that she didn’t go out much only added fuel to the fire.

Frustrated, I yanked my legs down and threw my head back.

There had to be something I could do.

Suddenly, I scrambled off the couch towards my room in search of my laptop. I balanced it on my lap as I opened up google and typed in ‘Mommy and me’.

If Lyla wasn’t able to make friends, I was going to help her by enrolling us in a class. I was sure that Mommy and me classes would be full of people we could relate to. Families who had many babies, or just one.

Regardless, they would understand us in a way that our single friends wouldn’t. Excitedly, I began to jump from one web page to the next, looking for the best location, because it couldn’t be too far away.

I finally found the right one, and I bookmarked the page so that I could show it to Lyla later. I tiptoed across the hall and placed my laptop back where it belonged, then took a quick peek at my girls.

They were both out like a light, Emily curled on her side with her thumb in her mouth, and Lyla lying flat on her back with her hand fanned out beneath her.

I stopped at Lyla’s door and stared at her. The way her lashes framed her face, and the way her face lost all traces of concern in her sleep. She looked almost ethereal, and I wanted to climb in there next to her, but I thought it would be best if I didn’t disturb her.

She was exhausted.

That much was clear.

I was careful to walk on my tiptoes, but the floor still creaked when I moved. I’d need to get that fixed. I was just about to safely head back downstairs when I heard a soft whining noise coming from the direction of Emily’s room.

I crept past Lyla’s room, and I saw that she was still out cold, a troubled expression on her face. I wanted to wake her up and ask her what was wrong, but it would have to wait because Emily was calling for attention.

I poked my head in. Emily’s eyes were wide open, and she was staring at the door expectantly, her little mouth curled into a disapproving grimace.

As soon as she saw me, the corners of her mouth uplifted, and she cooed as she lifted her hands above her head and made a demanding noise. She definitely wanted to be lifted up. I stepped into the room and nearly staggered backwards when the smell hit my nostrils.

“Oooh Em, somebody had something strong to eat today,” I said as I pinched the bridge of my nose, figuring it was necessary to breathe through my mouth for the time being.

Emily clapped delightedly and screwed her face up to mimic me. I chuckled as I continued to hold my breath, and I gingerly picked her up.

There was definitely a mess up in there, and I’d have to clean her bed as well, but for now, it was important to get Emily into the bath.

Emily looked at me with blue eyes shining brightly.

“Next time warn Daddy before he comes up here on a full stomach.” I wagged my finger at her jokingly.

Emily gaped at my finger before she took it in both her hands and gazed at it solemnly as if she was comparing sizes. She threw herself forward and grasped at thin air as if she was looking for something.

She made this odd little huffing noise and looked at me in annoyance as her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I know you’re looking for Lyla’s hair, but hey, this is what you get, missy. I’m sorry I don’t have long luxurious hair. We can’t all have that, you know,” I explained as I held her slightly away from me and hurried to my bathroom, not wanting to disturb Lyla.

Emily’s eyes flew all over the room in amazement, considering she didn’t come in here that often. Why would she? She had her own room, and a bathroom, so there was no need.

Until I realized that my bathroom wasn’t equipped for a baby, so I promptly turned around, shut the door that connected Lyla’s room to Emily’s and proceeded to prepare her for a bath.

Emily started making gurgling noises with her mouth as she shook herself up and down in excitement.

“Wait, you’re going to need a toy before we go in there.” I snapped my fingers as I snatched the nearest toy I could find.

“Now, Daddy’s going to clean you up, okay? You’re going to have to try to keep it down because Lyla is resting, and you like her, remember?”

Emily had her head tilted to the side as if she was listening very intently to what I was saying and debating it. Finally, she made a quiet cooing noise that I hoped was a sign of assent.

“Okay, I’m counting on you because you’re my number one girl,” I reminded her as we stepped into the bathroom and I flicked on the light switch.

Carefully, I slipped off her onesie and dropped it in the sink to soak in some warm, soapy water. Then I filled up her basinet while she played with her teddy bear contentedly.

“There we go,” I said as I placed her in the water and began to clean her up. I ran my hands over every inch of skin before I reached for the baby soap.

I ran the bar all over her body as gently as possible, scrubbing lightly in the areas that needed it, till I finally felt like the stink was gone. I experimentally sniffed and exhaled a sigh of relief when the smell didn’t overwhelm me again.

Instead, she smelled nice and pleasant, like a baby should.

“I’m going to wash your hair now, okay, Em?” I asked as she ignored me and continued to play with her bear.

She seemed quite fond of that thing, and I couldn’t remember getting it for her.

It must’ve been one of the gifts she’d received as a baby. It looked a little drab, like it had seen better days, and I frowned as I wondered who would possibly give a newborn an old toy they used to have.

Then I saw the name written on the tag.

Lyla.

Lyla had given Emily the teddy bear she had when she was little, and go figure, that happened to be the one she liked the most.

Once I had a good amount of shampoo in my hands, I lathered it up then spread it out across her hair. I made it stand up and laughed before I put it back down when Emily gave me a pointed look.

Sometimes, I felt like she could read my mind and was wondering how she got such a goofball as a father.

Oh, well.

I was about to wash the soap off when Emily threw the bear a little too hard, and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

“I’ll get it for you when I’m done, Em,” I soothed as I tried to focus on the task at hand. Emily wasn’t having it, her lower lip trembled, and her eyes welled up with tears.

“Alright, alright,” I conceded as I held Em with one hand and reached to the floor with the other to feel around for the teddy bear. I accidentally knocked over the garbage, and as its contents spread across the bathroom floor, something caught my eye.

Six pregnancy tests. All positive.