“That’s not normal,” I say, falling to my knees next to his adorable little niece.
“Hi, Zoey,” I coo, knowing she’s not going to give two shits about anything I have to say. She’s clearly in pain. “Do you happen to have any Mylicon?”
Nick peers at me like a deer in headlights. “I don’t even know what that is.”
I lick my lips, trying to contain the smile. This is all new to him, and I can tell he’s flustered. He might be a brave and calm detective, but when it comes to children, all bets are off, apparently.
“If you do, it would likely be in a diaper bag. I’m assuming your sister left one with you?”
He nods several times, rushing toward the kitchen. He comes back moments later with a black-and-white checkered bag. I rifle through it, coming across her stash of children’s Tylenol, but there’s no Mylicon.
“Could I get you to go to the store? I have a feeling she has anupset stomach. I’ll give her some Tylenol, but she could really use the Mylicon drops.”
He looks at me like I have three heads. “Where…what aisle?”
“I’ll find what I need online and send you a picture of it. If you ask someone at the store, they’ll be able to tell you where to get it.”
“Okay. Yeah…sure. I can definitely do that.” He starts to leave, but stops, coming back to me, and holding his hand out.
I take it, and he pulls me to my feet, crushing me against his chest.
“I owe you big time,” he says into my ear, giving me the chills.
He steps back, but not before placing a kiss on my lips. “Big time,” he repeats, emphasizingbig.
I smirk. “Go get the drops, and I’ll take care of her.”
He rushes off, leaving me with a bellowing infant. I make quick work of giving Zoey the infant Tylenol, allowing her to cry it out while I sing lullabies to her in the most soothing voice manageable.
It’s been several years since I’ve had a child this young, and while some things you never forget, others you do. And for good reason. Watching this tiny person clearly in pain, crying, wiggling, and squirming all over the floor is heartbreaking, and she’s not even mine.
Eventually, the medicine kicks in, and her crying calms a bit.
“Do you want to watch a movie, Zoey?” I ask, making quick work of finding a station appropriate for her age.
Some blue dog with pointed ears sings and dances, and Zoey seems to like it. While she doesn’t dance along, she does manage to stop crying. I glance at my watch, recognizing that Nick has been gone for quite a while already.
Me
Please tell me you aren’t wandering around aimlessly…
Nick
Okay…
Me
Okay?
Nick
You said not to tell you.
Me
That’s…not a good sign.
Nick
