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“Flowers go with flowers, right?”
Olivia chuckles at my choices. “Fashion is not your strong suit, Mr. Dalton.”
“Should I choose something else?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t ask me. You’re making the executive decisions today. I’m just here to keep things from going off the rails.”
Grimacing, I’m guided through the process of pulling Violet’s little wiggly limbs through her clothes. She’s so tiny. Soft. Breakable in the scariest of ways.
How the fuck do parents deal with these feelings every day?
My crash course through fatherhood is a year’s worth of education in the span of a few hours. Violet has an impressive collection of toys and stuffed animals. But her favorite, Olivia informs me, is a patchwork elephant. Violet refuses to sleep without it in her crib.
Olivia’s patience is unending. We go slow, having me hold Violet. Taking her to the floor to a playmat full of bright colors and things that make noises and elicit squeaks and beeps of all caliber of insanity.
Violet loves it.
And you know what I’m learning?
So do I.
There’s nothing purer than the peal of a baby’s giggles. Or maybe it’s just Violet’s that makes my heart swell up in my chest.
I don’t even think about how much time the three of us spend together. My nerves melt into a bucket held somewhere in the past of this morning. I'm a trooper through feeding a fussy little gremlin, burping her—and getting promptly vomited on—and even changing a diaper.
"I think you owe me an apology," I say to Olivia triumphantly as morning turns to afternoon. A fat, soaked diaper is folded up tight in my hand. I sink it in a swift dunk into the trash can. “I changed that diaper like a fucking NASCAR pit crew.”
She laughs. "Wait ‘til you have to deal with explosive baby diarrhea. Oh, or a baby boy. They pee on you.”
The thought of another child makes my chest tighten. But it's not in a bad way and I can't tell why the implication sends some excitement rippling through me.
Get your shit together, Reese. You're just now figuring out how to deal with one baby. The last thing you need is another.
When it’s time to put Violet down for a nap, I damn near launch a formal protest.
“Trust me,” Olivia says, not hearing my bullshit for one second. “You’re gonna want to take advantage of her napping. Get one in yourself.”
Tucking Violet in under a fluffy blanket with her patchwork elephant, I snort. “I don’t need a nap. I’m not the baby.”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “Mhmm. Okay, how about this? You go into your room, plop on the bed. If you’re still awake in ten minutes, you can stay up. If not, I’ll get you when Violet wakes up.”
“You could always just come join me in bed,” I say suggestively, wiggling my brows at her.
“Nuh-uh, mister.” She dashes out of reach just as I try to grab her. “We’ve got an experiment to conduct, don’t we?”
I groan. “You’re no fun.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
I think Olivia's bluffing until my head hits my pillow and suddenly, exhaustion washes over me. My eyelids are lead weights tugging down. My bed feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than it ever has before…
* * *
“Reese. Psst… Hey, Reese. Come on, get up.”
Cold. Wet. Sticky. The texture clings to the side of my face and makes me grumbly. I cling to sleep like I cling to my pillow. “Ten more minutes.”
Laughter fills my room. “It’s been four hours, mister. Come on. I let you sleep in. Violet’s ready for a bath.”
