Grabbing a little footie pajama with a matching hat, a diaper, and wipes, I held them to my chest and picked my phone up from the nightstand. My mom had texted me while we slept and thankfully, they were only a few hours away.
After sending a reply, I walked slowly back toward Mark’s room. Now that I was fully awake, I was far more hesitant to just go traipsing around in his space. I didn’t belong in there. I didn’t even belong in that house.
As much as I’d appreciated the familiar warmth and strength of his body, it hadn’t made me any more comfortable in his presence. Actually, it was the opposite. I felt more on edge now than I’d been before.
“You’re pretty,” Mark said as I stopped in the doorway. He was leaning up on his elbow with his back to me, and his head was tilted down looking at the baby. “Just like your mama. And you’re bossy like her, too,” he said as she squawked. “I know, I know. You’re not bossy, you just know what you want.”
I leaned against the doorjamb, unable to move forward as my heart pounded. Jesus, the sight of him leaned over her like that brought back dreams I’d long forgotten—and grief that I’d refused to acknowledge for the last decade.
“She’ll be back in just a minute with the goods,” Mark said with a soft chuckle. “No need to get all wound up. There you go, princess. Feels good to have a little freedom, huh?” Just as he finished speaking, she let out a wail that could probably be heard from across the street. “Shit,” he yelped.
“What happened?” I barked, hurrying around the bed.
“I just unwrapped her,” he replied defensively, using one hand to ineffectually try to wrap her back up.
“She’s probably just cold,” I reassured him, letting out a relieved breath as I lifted her from the bed. As soon as she was pressed against me, her mouth started rooting around at my neck. “Babies like being wrapped up tight because it makes them feel secure. It reminds them of being on the inside.”
“Ah, like a halfway house for newborns,” he said, leaning back on the pillows to watch me.
“I’ve never heard it put that way,” I replied. “But yeah, I guess.”
“You should probably figure out what you’re going to call her,” Mark said as I laid the baby back down and went to work changing her diaper and clothes. “She needs a name.”
“I’ll name her when I’m ready.”
“Better decide soon or I’m going to start calling her Cecilia,” he said, his lips twitching.
“Your friends are a trip,” I replied. Every time I tried to thread one of her legs into the little pants portion of the outfit she bent the other one back up against her belly and I had to start the process all over again. I was regretting not just buying her more nightgowns. Her cries turned into wails.
“Cec,” Mark said as I grew more and more flustered. He reached over and slid his hands under the baby, lifting her to rest with her butt on his chest. “Just feed her and then you can get her dressed.”
He patted the bed beside him and against my better judgment, but following my gut instinct absolutely, I crawled back onto the bed. He handed her over and after a couple attempts to get her all lined up, the room grew silent as she latched on.
“You’re a good mom,” Mark said, watching me.
“I don’t know about that,” I huffed. I’d been a mother for less than twelve hours. I had plenty of time to fuck it up royally.
“You’re a natural,” he murmured.
“No one is a natural,” I countered, running my hand over her mostly bald scalp. “It’s like all of a sudden this new person is just there, and you have to remember all this shit—how to be careful of their umbilical cord, and how to change a diaper, and support their head and don’t even get me started on the whole nursing bullshit.” I looked at him. “Breast may be best, but it’s a fucking nightmare at first.”
“Yeah?” He actually seemed interested, so I kept going.
“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “I was only planning on the first couple of days—get her started on the good stuff, you know? But Jesus. She wouldn’t latch on correctly and my nipples hurt like a motherfucker for the first two days. Seriously. Agony. And I had all these lactation nurses coming in and out, feeling me up and talking in these super soothing, annoying as fuck tones when I really just needed them to give it to me straight. They finally set us up with these little plastic contraptions that went over my nipples, but then I lost them somewhere and we had to figure out how to do it old school anyway.” I shook my head. “Plus, I’m always thirsty. I have to drink a shit ton of water and I hate water.” I sighed. “We figured it all out eventually, though.” I rubbed at a spot on the side of my breast that ached like someone was pinching me really hard. The first week of baby girl’s life had been a whirlwind of nursing and pumping so Liv could give her bottles when I wasn’t there.
“Feelin’ you up, huh?” he said, lifting his arms up to cross them behind his head.
“Of course that was the part you latched onto.”
“Nice pun.”
“I thought so,” I said, grinning a little.
“Well, she seems to have the hang of it now,” he said with a sigh.
“Yeah. It helps that my milk came in, so she’s got immediate satisfaction.”
“I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take your word for it.”
We were quiet for a few minutes and I took the time to actually look around his room. Just like in the guest room, the furniture in his bedroom was no joke. It looked heavy and solid and expensive, and I wondered if he’d picked it out himself. There was a chair in the corner that had a pile of folded towels on it and a jacket tossed over the back. The dresser was clean and mostly bare beyond a photo I recognized of him and his mother when he was little. I quickly looked away from it.
“I don’t spend a lot of time in here,” he said, dragging my attention back to the bed. “We’re not home very often.”
“Do you like your job?” I asked curiously. When we were young, he hadn’t spoken much about what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. He’d always been good with building and fixing anything mechanical, and I guess I’d assumed that he’d work in the club’s garage and take his place in the hierarchy. His life now was so far removed from what I’d envisioned for him—for us.
“Yeah, I do,” he said, shifting a little on the bed. “It’s satisfying and I like never seeing the same thing twice. Shit is always shifting and changing. Keeps me on my toes.”
“Is it dangerous?” I asked quietly.
“Life is dangerous,” he replied seriously. “No matter what you’re doin’ with it.”
“Fair point.”
“I’m good at what I do,” he continued. “And my team is the best I’ve ever worked with.”
“They’re an odd mix,” I replied.
“Probably why they work so well together,” he said. “Everyone brings their own shit—faults and assets—to the table.”
“Are Josiah and Ephraim brothers?” I asked. “Because they almost seem like they could be twins.”