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Sage eyes roll but when they land on me again, they’re serious. Sincere. A little unsure, a lot watery. “October Morgan Lane.”
Suddenly, Sunday isn’t the only one with wet eyes. “Yeah?”
She nods, and August does too. Resting his head atop his mother’s, he sighs one last time. “This is a really good day.”
51
SUNDAY
Pickle reactsto the newest addition to our family like he does to most things in life; tolerantly.
He greets us with a yowl that sounds an awful lot likewhere the hell have you been?Glides around our ankles in a lazy show of affection. Stretches on his hind legs to peak into the car seat holding his new human sister. Yawns and yowls again before sauntering towards the kitchen.
While August, the only one not weak from childbirth or carrying a newborn, quickly moves to fulfill Pickle’s blatant request for food, I stare sullenly at the obstacle keeping me from my bed.
“Need some help?”
Stubborn pride wants me to brush off Cass’ offer. Saypfft.Nah. I just pushed out a human. Of course I can handle some freaking stairs. But the ache between my legs and in my lower stomach and pretty much everywhere else disagrees, and I think accepting defeat now is perhaps a touch less embarrassing than doing so whilst crumpled on the bottom step after taking an oh-so-prideful tumble.
“I got her.” August, the little traitor, isn’t talking about me. He doesn’t come to the aid of his poor, decrepit mother. No, he all but sprints to his new favorite girl, taking his baby sister from her father and, so adorably carefully, bringing her upstairs. “You wanna see your room, Toby?” I hear him coo and if my insides weren’t already hanging on for dear life, they would combust.
It just makes me so happy, after everything, to hear him talking to her like that. Gazing at her. Loving on her. Giving her a cute ass nickname. Watching him fall into the big brother role so damn easily, so happily, helps me breathe a little easier.
Of course, only slightly. The hulking presence holding a hand out towards me makes my lungs pretty uncooperative.
Reluctantly, I go to take his hand but that’s not what he has in mind.
I shriek when he hoists me into his arms like a damn caveman, careful and gentle, sure, but I’m still suspended six-freaking-feet in the air, and I think my body has been throwing enough without adding broken bones to the list. “I can walk!”
Ignoring my protest, Cass clutches me tighter and starts upstairs. “Yeah I know but October takes after her mother and gets pissy when she’s hungry so I don’t think we can afford a two-hour jaunt on the staircase.”
“You’re a dick.”
“The mother of my child says the sweetest things to me.”
God, the teasing feels so normal. So normal and so confusing and I, hormone-confused as I am, don’t know what to do with it so the second we’re on the second floor, as much as Cass clearly intends on carrying me to bed, I wriggle until he sets me down.
Murmuring my thanks, I start hobbling towards my bedroom, only making it a couple of steps before Cass catches me by the elbow. “I got Jackson to put the bassinet in my room,” he explains—shyly, if I’m reading him correctly—as he steers me across the hall, adding, “It’s bigger and the ensuite has a bath,” but honestly, I don’t need the further explanation. I just want a bed. Any bed.
Even if—notespecially because—it’s his. Even if that means he clearly doesn't plan on occupying it. That’s fine by me. I knew he wasn’t planning on sticking around long. That was never the plan. He was always going back to baseball—it just happened a little earlier than expected, and I’m glad it did. Really. Because now that it has to happen again, I know what to expect. It won’t hurt as much. I don’t love him as much.
That’s what I’m telling myself, at least.
Clearly, August got the memo before I did because he’s already in Cass’ room. My eyes sting—I swear, I’m gonna throw a freaking party when my hormones straighten themselves out and let me behave like a normal human being not constantly hindered by leaky eyes—at the sight of him slowly transferring October to her bassinet.
“Good job,” I praise quietly when he manages to do it without waking her up—a talent him and Cass share. Typical, really. I did all the work, and they get all the sweet, tearless glory. “You gonna get some sleep?”
When he shakes his head, I sigh. I get, and love, the new baby excitement but the kid’s been up for… God, I have no idea. I can’t remember the last time I checked the time but I know August rushed into my hospital room sometime in the wee hours of yesterday morning and refused to leave until I got discharged. He slept on a cot last night, which I suppose is marginally better than the armchair Cass spent the night in.
Most of it. Some of it. The parts when he wasn’t sharing my bed or doing laps of the room cradling his girl or making a quick food run because I really, really wanted a burger from Greenie’s.
Anyway.
The point is, the only one sleeping around here is the baby. And she doesn’t have school or practice tomorrow.
“I’m not tired!” August protests as I slip an arm around his shoulders and gently pry him away from his newest obsession.
“Well, I am.”
