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Amelia’s eyes meet mine, and this time they’re full of laughter. “Don’t call the devil.”
On cue, Liam moves, twisting at the waist as Amelia tugs off his shorts which, luckily, move over his sneakers with ease.
“Here, you hold his arms.” She tugs at the velcro-like tabs on either side of his diaper, and I do as she tells me, taking Liam’s little arms in my hands. I’m surprised by how strong he is; the kid really doesn’t want to stay still, and he fights me, starting to cry.
Sweat breaks out along my scalp. Amelia opens the diaper to reveal an adult-sized turd, and I kinda want to cry too.
I try not to gag. “Wow, buddy, that’s impressive.”
But as I look down at Liam’s tear-streaked face, I wonder what he’s thinking. Feeling. Clearly, he hates having his diaper changed. Judging by the wails, he’s got a good set of lungs on him too. Is he wondering where his mom is? Where Natasha went?
Looking into his little eyes, so clearly the Beauregard blue, my chest tightens. Is he gonna be okay?
“Wipes,” Amelia says, and I kick myself for not knowing to hand them to her without her asking. I can’t remember the last time I experienced such excruciating embarrassment. High school, maybe?
I hand her a wad, and she shakes her head. “Just one at a time. Okay—okay, yes, exactly, thank you. See, you just clean him up like this, making sure you get all the nooks and crannies.”
She moves quickly and confidently, probably because she’s done this five thousand times. It throws my own lack of experience into even starker contrast. While I wanna shrivel up and die a little bit, I’m a dad now. Dying is not an option.
Not even when faced with a nuclear number two.
“You got it?” Amelia asks.
I nod. “I think so, yeah.”
She steps back. “I’m a big believer in learning by doing. So.” She gestures to Liam. “Do.”
“Okay.” I let out a breath. Grab a wipe. “Okay. You sure I don’t need a hazmat suit?”
“No hazmat suit necessary.”
“What about an oxygen tank?”
She shrugs, ducking her lips. “Nah. Save that for the bad ones.”
I grin, appreciating her playing along with me more than she’ll ever know. “This doesn’t count as bad?”
“Oh, Rhett,” she says with a chuckle. “You have so much to learn.”
I press my tongue to the back of my mouth to plug my nose and dive in. I wipe, and Liam squirms. Amelia grabs his legs this time, cooing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She could shatter glass when she hits the high notes, but Liam stops crying, so it seems like he doesn’t mind. He still wiggles, though, and my arms tangle with Amelia’s as she tries to keep him still, our shoulders brushing.
I should be too distracted for my body to warm at the contact. But I’m not. Guess I like the feel of her next to me. It’s comforting.
It’s comforting and not at all arousing.
Not one freaking bit.
It takes approximately seventeen thousand wipes, but I somehow manage to clean up my son. By the time I’m done, his cute little heinie literally shines.
Meanwhile, I’m practically sweating bullets.
“Good?” I ask Amelia, lifting my arm to wipe my forehead on my bicep.
She ducks her head to get a better look. “Great. Excellent job, Daddy.”
Can’t help it. I smile so hard it almost hurts. I’ve gotten lots of praise for lots of big accomplishments over the course of my career. But I can’t remember the last time praise hit home this way. It’s like Amelia’s words land right where I need them, right in the center of my chest between my heart and my gut, rearranging the panic there into something way less painful.
Way more pleasant.
“You’re the one who deserves kudos for being so patient with an entitled ass”—I cut a glance at Liam, who of course is looking at me, listening intently—“an entitled jerk like me.”
“Such a jerk, changing your son’s diaper.”
“I’m the worst, yes.” I nod at the dirty diaper. “I just roll it up and put it in that Jasmine thing, right?”
She laughs. I get even warmer. “The Diaper Genie? Yes. Then we’ll put a fresh diaper on him and head outside.”
“Oss-ide!” Liam says.
Amelia shows me how to do the fresh diaper thing—lift the butt, slide the diaper in, fold it up, secure it with those tabs—and then she lifts Liam onto her hip while I go wash my hands.
Lathering up, I try to parse through what I’m feeling. I haven’t shaken the dread and disappointment that’s haunted me ever since I got the call from Melissa. And there’s this weird edge of something in my center—anger, maybe—that appeared out of nowhere this afternoon.
But there’s also relief. Gratitude too. I’m so fucking grateful Amelia is here, and that I have my family around. I can’t imagine how difficult this would be if I were on my own, the way poor Jennifer was.
