Page 32 of Laura


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“I moved to the Lower East Side because of Emory. His people are down there. They don’t speak to me anymore. My family is in the Bronx. There’s a big Dominican presence uptown. No one from my family liked Emory, and I wasn’t exactly disowned, but close. I have my boss, who is really a nice woman, my babysitter, and now you.”

She handed me the baby, and I pointed toward the living room. “I’ll order dinner. Are you in the mood for anything special?”

“I’d kill for a burger,” she said.

“Burger it is.”

I ordered our dinner. “Coffee? Wine?”

“I’ll have wine,” she said. “Do you want me to take her?”

“Sure. But can I have her back?” I teased.

“You sure can.”

In the kitchen, I got out a bottle that I’d opened the night before and finished it off into two glasses.

“This is really nice,” I said. “I haven’t had guests since I moved in, and that was last summer.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No. I didn’t have time to meet anyone but Ryan, the guy who was my co-host, and we’re just friends.”

“Oh my God. Ryan? We all have a crush on him.”

“Oh, right! You’ve seen the guy on the tube. He is pretty ravishing. But I didn’t want to get involved with anyone I worked with. And he has a rep as a player, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s hot!” She licked her finger and touched her shoulder, making a sizzle sound. Eimy made me laugh.

I sat with the baby in my lap, drinking my wine, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Even if he’s your coworker, you should still give him a shot,” she continued. “You two had so much chemistry on the screen.”

“That’s what my father said. It’s why he thought we’d work well together.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” Eimy said. The baby stirred, whimpering. “She probably wants to nurse.”

“I wondered if you nursed.”

“I just do it for comfort now, when I get home from work. She takes a bottle at the sitter. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I said, although that wasn’t completely true.

I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be watching because I’d never seen a baby nurse up close. When my roommate, Samantha, had a baby during her first year of medical school, I was so glad I was on my way to New York because it was just too earthy.

Eimy came over to get the baby, and I gave her up. Eimy lifted her top and pulled a breast out. All my misgivings flew out the window as she held the baby so she could latch on to her mother’s nipple. Warmth flowed over me with the realization that someday I wanted to nurse my baby.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, remembering Yasmine rooting around on my chest.

“Nursing? No. It’s a relief, actually. I tried pumping and freezing the milk, but my employer wasn’t having it, so I stopped.”

I decided her employer was a jackass. “How old is she? The nurse who made the home visit thought she was new.”

“She’s almost eight weeks. She’s tiny. I hope they didn’t think I wasn’t feeding her enough.”

“She has body fat, so I don’t think anyone was questioning her health. Plus, she came with bottles.”

“Emory grabbed the bag. I guess the sitter never put the bottles in the fridge.” I could see her bristling.

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