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“It’s not a good time.”
She looked past me into the house. “Do you need some help?”
Before I could lie and tell her no, she pushed past me and into the living room. She made a beeline toward the crying, like a moth drawn to a flame and I couldn’t help but watch the sway of her perfect ass as she went. The girls were in pack and play sleepers in the living room. She walked over to Grace, who was crying the loudest, and picked her up.
“Oh my gosh, Jeremiah. They’re beautiful.”
I was at her side; ready to show her how to hold the baby if needed, but she didn’t need my help. She rocked Grace in her arms, speaking to her in hushed tones, and the baby’s cries quieted rather quickly. My cock twitched again at the how good she was with my daughter.
“How did you do that?”
“Huh?” Elle seemed to have been lost in a fantasy, shook her head, and met my gaze.
“I’ve been trying forever to get her to calm down,” I said. “And you just walk in here and stop her crying in seconds.”
“Babies can sense our stress, Jeremiah,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I’m not stressed.”
Yeah, right.Who the hell am I kidding?
She gave me a look that said she knew I was lying. Amelia let out a soft whimper which turned to more crying, drawing our attention.
“I was in the middle of feeding them,” I muttered, going to Amelia and picking her up to give her a bottle.
“Alright, can I help?” Elle asked me.
I’d originally made both of their bottles, not thinking. I motioned to Grace’s bottle sitting on the coffee table. “Do you know how to feed a baby?”
“Do I know how to feed a baby?” she asked in a mocking tone. “Come on, Jeremiah. I used to babysit all the freaking time in high school and continued doing it in college too. I even nannied for a wealthy family for a while to pay for school. You know that.”
She picked up the bottle and began feeding Grace as if it was second nature.
“Alright, I’m sorry. They’re just my babies. I’m a little overprotective.”
“Of course you are. I’m not surprised at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you were always protective of me, and I wasn’t even your daughter.” She shrugged and took a seat on my sofa, her attention focused on the bundle in her arms.
In case I could forget that she was my best friend’s daughter, well, there she was to remind me.
Grace’s tiny fingers gripped the scarf, and if Elle minded, she didn’t let it show. Knowing Elle, her clothing wasn’t cheap.
“So which one do I have?” she asked me, though she didn’t look up.
“You have Grace,” I murmured softly, taking a seat in the chair across from her. “She has a birthmark on her right hand, right by her thumb. She’s also smaller.”
“Grace, after your mother,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“And Amelia after your grandmother,” she said, looking at the baby in my arms.
“Yes, right again.”
“You always were a sentimental man,” she said with a playful smile. “Even if you try to hide it.”
