My phone rings, and I peek at the number. It’s the lawyer. I put Josie in the crib thing Maddox loaned me.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Thompson, this is Jason Truly.”
“Thanks for getting back to me on a Sunday.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m going to send you a few names of family law attorneys. But I know enough to give you a little advice, and that is, do not use an at-home paternity test. I know you can easily order one over the internet, but the results will not hold up in a court of law.”
“What do I do, go to a lab?”
“Your doctor’s office can swab your mouths and send it off. Should only take a few days.”
“I don’t have a doctor.”
“I’m sure someone at DHR does. Maybe Maddox’s pediatrician. Try to make an appointment first thing tomorrow, then give one of my friends a call. I’m sure they can help you out.”
“I appreciate the advice.”
“Good luck.”
I text Maddox and Aaron, asking for the number of a doctor. When Amber comes back, Josie is asleep again. She has a change of clothes in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “What’s that?”
“Stuff from my refrigerator. I figured I’d make dinner. Spaghetti okay with you?”
“I think I like this girlfriend thing. Is you cooking for me part of the deal?”
She puts her stuff down. “I don’t know. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before.”
“First sandwiches and now pasta. I could get used to this.”
“Well, don’t.” She glances at Josie. “Like you said, this may be only temporary.”
“The girlfriend thing or the baby thing?”
“Very funny.”
“What if I still want you in my bed after she’s gone?”
“You’ve had me in your bed for a week.”
“What if I want you there indefinitely?”
“Isn’t it a little too soon to be having this conversation, Quinn?”
I remember what Aaron said to me last year about him knowing he was in love with Devyn shortly after they met. He told me to wait—that it would happen to me. I didn’t believe him. Yet here I sit, practically asking Amber to move in with me. “I suppose so.”
Josie wakes and cries. Amber checks the time. “She’s probably hungry.”
“Again? How often do they eat?”
“Often, I think.” She motions to the book on the table. “Look it up if you want.”
I hold up my phone. “I don’t need a book.” I Google it. “Damn. Every three to four hours.” I look up. “Wait, does that mean around the clock?”
She laughs. “I guess we’ll see.”
Two hours later, the kitchen is a mess, Josie spit up on me again, there are two smelly diapers in the trash can, and Amber and I are exhausted. I collapse onto the couch. “Leave the dishes. We’ll do them in the morning. How can one tiny human do this to two grown adults?”
“Seriously. And Andie wants two of these?”
“We should go to bed,” I say. “Who knows when she’ll wake up again.” I walk toward the bedroom.
“You can’t just leave her out here.”
“Why not? She can’t even sit up. It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”
“Quinn, what if she wakes up?”
“Amber, the entire ranch will hear her if she wakes up. Girl’s got some lungs.”
“What if she chokes or something?”
I glance over at Josie. “Fine. But if she wakes up when we move her, you’re dealing with it.”
“Fair enough.”
We get on either side of the bassinet and carefully move it into the bedroom. We set it down gently and then breathe a sigh of relief when Josie doesn’t wake up. I thumb to the bathroom. “I’m going to wash the baby vomit off me.”
Once I’m behind the closed door, I stare into the mirror. “No way is this my life.”
“No shower?” Amber whispers when I return shortly.
I lean close, not wanting to wake the sleeping beast. “Too tired.”
She straddles me, and it’s only now I notice she’s naked. “I hope you’re not too tired for this,” she says in my ear.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You promised to make it worth my while if I stayed with you.”
I glance over at Josie. “But she’s right there. And she’s sleeping. We’ll wake her. Plus, I need sleep.”
“Well, I need you.”
Suddenly, my need for sleep is overtaken by my need to please Amber. I flip us around so she’s underneath me. I hand her a pillow. “Do not make noise. I’m going down, and I’m going down hard.”
She smiles. “I do love a challenge.”
Chapter Twenty
Amber
I shove the pillow over my head. Not to muffle my screams, as I did last night, but so I don’t hear Josie. It doesn’t work. Quinn was right. The kid has a pair of lungs.
“Just one more hour,” Quinn mumbles. “Then I promise I’ll feed you.”
“Bargaining with an infant. Smart.” I reach over and pat her tummy. She grabs on to my fingers and quiets for a minute. I look at Quinn and giggle. “Please tell me I look better than you do.”
“You always look amazing, sweetheart.” He turns up his nose. “But you smell like baby puke.”
“Sorry. I was too tired to change after getting up with her.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Well, you did it the first time. When do you think they start sleeping through the night?”
“Beats me,” he says. “Maybe she misses her deadbeat mom or is scared because of her surroundings.”
“Do you think a baby that small can miss someone?” It’s a question I’ve asked myself my whole life. I looked it up once. They say a baby can recognize her mother’s voice the day they are born, having heard it in the womb. Did I know Julie wasn’t my birth mom? Did I miss Piper at all? And Josie is six weeks old; she probably already bonded with Michelle, and now strangers are taking care of her. I sit up and get her out of the bassinet. “Are you a hungry girl? Breakfast is coming.”
“I’ll heat up a bottle.” Quinn is slow to get out of bed. Last night was difficult on all of us.
I lay Josie between two pillows and quickly change into a T-shirt and yoga pants. I’m glad my ankle felt good enough to ditch the boot yesterday—one less thing to deal with among all this chaos. Voices come from the living room. I pick up the baby and go out to see Maddox and Aaron.
Quinn hands me a bottle. “They wanted to see how last night went.”
Aaron looks around at the disarray and laughs. “About as expected.”
“You kept her in the bedroom with you?” Maddox says, shaking his head. “Ah, man, that’s a mistake. You’ll hear her every breath and wake up every time she stirs. We slept so much better when we moved Viv to the nursery.”
“That settles it,” Quinn says. “We’re moving to the guest house. I don’t care if it’s only for two days. I can’t do this for another night in my small apartment.”