“Wait a minute. Hold on. Can we start over here, please? First, don’t be getting all weird on me because you saw me naked. Remember, I looked in on you while you slept, so turnabout is fair play. When I’m exhausted, I sleep like the dead.”
Hannah did her best to ignore the warm flush of her cheeks. “Well, you’re going to have to do something about that. You might need to put Bree’s bassinet next to your bed.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that tonight. So what’s this about a crowd of women?”
“It’s Celeste’s plan. We should let her explain it. Have you burped Brianna?”
“No.” He grimaced. “I tried once, but getting the bottle away from her was like wrestling an alligator. She won.”
Hannah sighed. “Give her to me. I’ll finish feeding her, and you pick out something to wear.”
“Okay.” He rose from the rocker, and Hannah smoothly took hold of both the baby and bottle. Boone scowled. “You make that look so easy.”
“Practice.” Hannah placed the baby on her shoulder and patted her back hard. Almost immediately, she was rewarded with a loud belch, and the unmistakable sound of a baby filling up her diaper.
“Again?” Boone grumbled. “I just changed her. I may need to float a loan to buy diapers.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and nodded toward the bags. “Outfit.”
He began rifling through the bags. “What do I pick? A onesie? A sleeper? A dress? A sunsuit? There’s too much to choose from.”
“And whose fault is that?” she asked drily. “Brianna is making her Eternity Springs debut, Boone. Work it. And do it in about ninety seconds. We are almost done here, and again, you have guests dying to meet this little angel.”
“Ahh. Angel. That’s it.” He dug through the clothes until he’d unearthed a pale-pink gingham dress with a band of smocking across the bodice where little angels turned somersaults above a field of flowers. “Celeste is gonna love this one.”
He’d chosen the entire outfit himself, so he knew what items he needed. White socks with pink gingham ruffles. A diaper cover embroidered with the baby’s initials—a B and a C on either side of an M. And the pièce de résistance—a soft white headband with a gingham rosette surrounded by leaves shaped like angel wings.
The outfit was so over the top. That made it perfect for this particular moment. “Good job, Daddy.”
“Will you do the honors?” he begged. “It might take me until midnight.”
“Sure.” Hannah quickly changed Bree’s diaper, got her into the dress, and wrestled on the socks, cooing and talking to the infant all the while. “Now then. Let’s see about this bow. It’ll be easier if you hold her, Boone.”
“Okay.”
“Get a spit cloth first.”
“Oh, yeah.”
He took a plain white cloth from a drawer and tossed it over his left shoulder. Hannah handed him the baby, fixed the bow, then took a step back. Her throat went tight. She blinked back tears. “Precious. Simply precious.”
“She is the world’s cutest baby,” Boone said, pride ringing in his voice.
And she has the world’s cutest daddy. “Let’s do this thing, Daddy. But give me about a fifteen-second head start. I want to see these women’s reactions when you walk in.”
“Okay.”
As Hannah walked down the hallway, she heard him start singing to Bree, using the tune he’d made up sometime during the past forty-eight hours with words that changed depending on the circumstance. He had verses for diaper changing, bottle mixing, and getting strapped in the car seat. Now he sang, “Brianna C., Brianna C. Gonna meet my friends, Miss Brianna C. They’ll ooh and ah and coo, and then we’ll all agree. You are the best, my Brianna C., Daddy’s world champion baby, my Brianna C.”
Misty-eyed, Hannah walked out onto the deck and snagged a glass of champagne. Celeste met her gaze and arched a questioning brow. “They’ll be right out.”
* * *
As Boone caught sight of the crowd on his deck, his one regret was that his immediate family wasn’t here to share this moment. However, his extended family had shown up in spades—the female half of it, anyway. The men must be home with the children.
There had to be close to twenty women here. He spied Nic Callahan, Sage Rafferty, Ali Timberlake, and Sarah Murphy. Kat Davenport. Maggie Romano. Rose Cicero and Shannon Garrett, to name just a few. Hannah stood off to one side with Celeste and Gabi Brogan. He saw pink and white balloons, a small mountain of disposable diapers, and a table laden with food. Wow. Just wow. Celeste had pulled this together in a few hours. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. He was also just a tiny bit nervous—something totally out of character for him. This was a crowd of mothers and a few grandmothers known for holding “interventions” when one of them was in the process of making a big mistake. Were they prepared to pounce on him in an attempt to convince him that he’d bitten off more than he could chew?
No. They wouldn’t have brought balloons if that were the case. Balloons were for celebrations, not interventions.
He drew in a deep breath. “Are you ready, Bree? It’s showtime.”
He walked out onto the deck with his daughter in his arms and gratitude in his heart.
The women went wild over Brianna. Everyone wanted to hold her, but Rose Cicero donned her physician’s hat and suggested they limit the number to avoid overstimulation. Experienced mothers all, no one argued. Instead they came up with a game in order to choose the lucky pairs of arms and included Hannah by asking her to choose five random dates throughout the year. The person with the closest birthday got to hold Bree.
That done, Celeste presented her nanny plan, and while Boone scarfed down his supper—he loved potluck—his friends and neighbors passed around the babysitting schedule sign-up sheet. Before he’d worked his way to dessert, he had sitters from nine AM to nine PM every day for the next eight weeks.
Celeste took a photo of the schedule with her phone, then handed the paper to Boone. “You’ll have to handle nights on your own, but you’re a competent man. You’ll manage just fine, and frankly, it’s a life experience you need to have.”
Well, now. Hmm. Beggars can’t be choosers, he knew, but he’d been running on fumes after one night of every-two-hour feedings.
“She’s right,” Nic Callahan added. “Sleep deprivation is a rite of parental passage.”
To a person, everyone on the deck nodded.
Boone frowned. Capable. Okay, he was that. He could handle the nights. Now that they were home, he would get Bree on a schedule. He was good at schedules. Shoot, he might have her sleeping through the night by the end of the week.
Okay, that was probably optimistic.
Speaking to the larger group, Celeste continued, “I’ll upload the list to an editable Google document and send everyone the link. If you need to trade days or times, it’s your responsibility to find a sub and update the schedule. We will suspend the schedule when Boone’s nanny arrives in town and is ready to work. If she suffers a delay in her recovery, I’ll ask for volunteers to extend the schedule one week at a time. How does that sound to everyone?”