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Fuck. I don’t have time for this bullshit.
I have a sick baby to take care of.
Shooting him a dirty look, I carry Abel over to the kitchen and yank open a cabinet. Grabbing a bottle of liquid Tylenol, I almost slam it down on the counter.
“Your presence and services are no longer wanted,” I say as I struggle to get the child-proof lid off one-handed.
Jude watches me struggle for a few moments then he smirks. Walking up to me, he grabs the bottle and twists the lid off.
“Oh?” he asks with a cocky lift of his brow.
I’m tempted to use my free hand to smack that smirk right off his face.
But unlike my husband, I don’t hit others when I’m frustrated.
I only hit them when they’re trying to kill me.
Gritting my teeth together, I point to the drawer instead. “There’s a dropper in there. Fill it from the bottle.”
Pulling open the drawer, Jude rummages around in all my odds and ends before producing the little dropper and holding it up. “Is this it?”
I nod and bounce Abel a little.
Closing the drawer, Jude picks up the bottle of Tylenol and dips the dropper inside. Scowling, he squeezes the bulb and pulls the dropper out.
Holding the dropper up for inspection, he asks, “Is this enough?”
“What does the line say?” I ask.
Narrowing his eyes, Jude reads the thin line. “Five milliliters.”
I shake my head. “That’s too much. He only gets two-point-five.”
Dipping the dropper back into the bottle, Jude squeezes some of the medicine out then lifts it back up.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Now it’s not enough.”
Biting my tongue, I watch him dip the dropper back in and pull it out.
Checking the line again, his frustration grows. “Now it’s too much. Whoever invented these things should be shot.”
As much as I would love to stand here all day and watch him struggle, Abel needs that medicinenow.
I thrust my hand out. “Give it here.”
Reluctantly, he hands the dropper over. I check the line then lightly squeeze the bulb into the bottle, closely watching the pink liquid go down.
Once it’s at the right dosage, I shift Abel again and lift the dropper to his mouth. “Here, sweetie. Here’s some yummy medicine to make you feel better.”
Abel takes one look at the dropper and turns his face away.
Sighing, I shift him again until I can reach his mouth.
“Please, Abel…” I plead.
I swear he cries out, “No!” as he pushes my hand away and turns his face in the other direction.
Of course today of all days he would decide to fight me on this.
