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Supported me.
Gave me room to grow.
Showed me he loved me with his actions.
He was there when it mattered.
My throat suddenly closed up with emotions I couldn’t quite explain. Something clicked in my mind and I heard myself whisper a promise I desperately vowed to keep:
“No matter what happens, you’ll always be the man I call Daddy. I’ll never doubt you again, Riley.”
Our vows already spoken, this was a promise to myself.
Whether hormonal, hangry, or insecure, I wouldn’t quit on us.
When the day finally drew to a close, he came home and sat beside me, a sleeping baby Tabitha on my lap.
I placed my index finger over my lips and he tiptoed over gently, picked her up and carried her to her crib.
Seeing my expression upon his return, he furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”
My exhausted eyes smiled at him. “She only nursed on that side before she fell asleep, and this one...” I pointed at my chest. “My milk supply has become too much for Tabitha to handle. I know I should use the pump, but it’s so painful.” I placed a hand over my suffering boobie and the bare hint of contact made it ache painfully.
Riley’s eyes seared into me. The silence between us crackled with tension until it became unbearable.
The deep timbre of his voice was magnetic. “I know something softer than the breast pump.”
My eyes widened and my stomach dropped as his words registered. I pointed an accusing finger at him. “Uh uh. I see right through you. You’ve got some shady plans up your sleeve.”
It had been three weeks since I’d given birth, and I didn’t know if I’d ever feel right down there again.
Riley sauntered over and sank into the cushion beside me. I shifted in my seat, subtly widening the gap between us. With a raised brow, I wagged my forefinger at him and declared firmly, “Don’t even think about it, buddy. This territory here”—I gestured to the space between my thighs—“is strictly verboten until further notice.”
He edged closer, excitement sparking in his blue eyes. “When did the doc say you’d be better?”
I exhaled deeply. “Four weeks—if I’m lucky. Just the thought of making another one of these demanding creatures makes me shudder.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” he muttered darkly.
I raised a quizzical brow at him, asking, “What exactly were you thinking?”
“Let me show you with actions instead of words.” He stood up and turned on some soothing music, dimming the lights, and speaking over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. “I read it’s important for a nursing mother to be in a relaxed environment, where she feels safe, in order for her to let down her milk.”
The pain in my boobs made me cranky. I crossed my arms and a zing of pain shot from my nipple to my collarbone. “Oh. Shit. They’re so sore.”
Riley returned, placing a tall, green bottle of sparkling water on the coffee table after filling my glass. Its condensation glistened in the light, and he beamed. “Poor thing. Your job’s so much harder than mine. Making food for our baby. Feeding her day and night. It’s also necessary for you to stay hydrated.”
“What are you now? Larry, the lactation consultant?” I sassed.
We both held our breath, and the air crackled between us before he finally spoke.
“Let me help you, Faith,” he uttered softly, more than a hint of admiration in his expression as he sat beside me and shoved the fabric of my sweater up, gently unfastening the hooks of my nursing bra.
He stared in awe. “They’re so full,” he admired.
My cheeks reddened as I thought about the implications. A wave of confusion and excitement washed over me as I wondered what he planned.
He ran his fingers along the edge of my breast, trailing light circles with the tips that sent shivers down my spine. A surge of power coursed through me as I grasped his plan.
