“Fair enough. But it doesn’t happen often. You were kind of an exception,” he says.
“Yeah, me and the woman who dropped him off in the middle of the night.”
“It’s a lot easier for a woman and a baby to get through security than someone with a camera or a weapon,” he says, and I panic.
“A weapon? Why would anyone have a weapon?!”
“No one has a weapon,” he says, taking me in his arms. “And no one is going to get inside, okay?”
I nod, but I’m not so sure.
“Now come back to bed,” he says.
“In a minute,” I tell him, scooping Bentley up and sitting in the rocker. Zane takes a deep breath but lets it out with a small smile.
I don’t care what he says or thinks. I saw someone. I know I did. And the idea of someone being out there makes my skin crawl. But it’s not fear so much as anger. The idea of anyone trying to hurt him or take him from me makes my blood boil. Because fuck that!
I hold Bentley close and rock him, humming the song from the mobile. Slowly, sleep starts to take me, but just as my eyes droop, I see a flash of light out the window and then a blur.
I let out a gasp and hop up from the chair, running down the hallway back to Zane’s room.
“I saw it again!” I say. “Someone was there. They had a camera.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes, I am sure! Zane, there is someone out there. Look at the security cameras,” I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows.
I bite my lips while mentally kicking myself. “Right. I made you take most of them down.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “I will have them put back up tomorrow, and I’ll call security to see if they saw anything too. Honestly, some camera creep is probably just snooping around. But as you know, they’re mostly harmless. Come, lay down.”
I hesitate, looking down at Bentley, who is still miraculously sleeping in my arms.
“Fine,” I give in. “But Bentley is sleeping with us.”
* * *
“We should have known better than to assume last night’s bliss was the new norm,” Zane drones with his hands over his face.
“He’s little,” I say in Bentley’s defense as I change his diaper.
“When do they usually start sleeping through the night?” he asks, handing me the wipes.
“When they have an established sleep schedule,” I tell him. “Diaper?”
Zane hands me one. “How do we do that?”
“If I had to guess,” I say as I pick Bentley up and wrap him in his blanket. “He had one before his mom dropped him off here. And now it’s messed up because it’s a new house and new people and he misses her.”
“Even though we’re the ones taking care of him?” he asks.
“That’s not really how it works. Not yet,” I say, and I head off to the kitchen to get a bottle.
Zane follows. “I’m sorry. I’m just in over my head here.”
“I know,” I say with a yawn. “We both are, honestly.”
“Listen,” Zane says as he grabs the bottle and holds out his hands. “Let me take him. You get some sleep.”
