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Blair inches closer, and the calf immediately steps into her, rubbing its head against her, and I don’t miss the way she subtly turns so the calf doesn’t hit our baby growing inside her womb. It snuggles up to her, and as Blair’s shoulders sag, I groan, realizing I just became a cow father.
“Are you hungry?” she murmurs, her hands rubbing all over the calf, giving it a good scratch. “Come on, my sweet little angel. Let me get you fed.”
Blair turns and starts making her way back to the house, and the little calf follows her instinctively as though she just became its adoptive mother. I watch Blair a moment longer, expecting her to leave the calf in front of the house as she runs in to figure out how the hell to feed the poor animal, but my jaw slackens watching as a calculated smirk stretches across her lips and she ushers the calf up the four steps leading onto the porch.
No. No fucking way. She’s not about to let that thing into our house.
“Please, baby. No,” I groan, knowing damn well she can’t hear me.
It only takes a minute or so for the calf to figure out the stairs, and then it’s game over for me. Blair opens the front door and the little brown calf strides right through as though it owns the place.
It takes me a minute to switch the security camera, having to exit out of the external feed and to the internal one before having to figure out which room she’s just waltzed a wild cow into.
Having Blair back in my life has been nothing short of an adventure, though there’s no denying that we’re constantly butting heads. It’s part of the reason why I love her so much. We’ve been this way since we first got together in high school, but one thing is for sure, I will never attempt to renovate a house with Blair Wilder ever again.
When her nana’s home sold a few weeks ago, it was the greatest news of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I get that it was a bittersweet moment for Blair and she was an emotional wreck, feeling as though she was having to say goodbye to all of the fond memories she had growing up in that home. But fuck, I’m glad to see it gone.
The home went to a young couple with two little kids who had only just moved into town, a family who now gets to start their own journey and make new adventures every day, but shit, Blair and I fought every time we stepped foot into that house together. She had her YouTube tutorials on how to hang a door while I had the actual know-how, but that girl is nothing if not stubborn. When she puts her mind to something, everybody else better watch the fuck out.
I got steamrolled out of that house so damn quickly, I ended up sneaking back in during the day while she was working to fix everything she’d worked on the night before. Not going to lie though, by the end, she was really starting to get the hang of it.
Finding Blair in the kitchen with the calf, I watch as she digs through the fridge and pulls out a bunch of fruit and vegetables, offering them to the cow one by one, and when she shoves a carrot in its confused little face, I roll my eyes and shake my head. It’s not a fucking rabbit. It probably needs milk . . . from it’s goddamn mother.
As if having the same thought, she pulls out the carton of milk, and with just one look at it, there’s no denying that that’s not going to be enough for that little calf. I’ll have to stop by Bessy’s store and get some more while we figure out how to actually feed this thing properly, because let’s face it, I’m going to walk in there and Blair is going to bat those thick lashes at me and I’m not going to be able to stop until we have a fucking zoo living inside our house.
I watch Blair for a minute as she tries to figure out how to actually give the milk to the calf, and as she pours the milk into a bottle before attaching a latex glove to the top and using the finger as the teet, I’m blown the fuck away. That was genius. But also, I’m going to have to add cow milk bottles to my shopping list.
It’s messy, but she eventually manages to feed the little guy, and as it annihilates every last drop, I watch as Blair reaches for her phone on the table and starts shooting off a text.
My phone chimes barely a second later.
Blair - Could you pick up milk on the way home?
Blair - Like maybe a lot of milk.
I grin, more than ready to drag this out.
Nick - A lot? Why do you need so much milk? You barely drink it as it is.
Blair - Baking. I wanna get into baking.
Nick - Alright. I’ll pick up a few bottles of that low-fat milk the doctor suggested.
Blair - NO!
Blair - Whole milk. It has to be whole milk. I need the good shit.
I laugh to myself, watching Blair throw her phone down as the calf finishes off the bottle, and knowing that won’t keep him full for long, I get a move on, not wanting to risk the little guy getting aggravated when he comes looking for more.
After picking up every single bottle of whole milk Bessy has in her store and having to then explain what the hell I wanted it for, I get my ass back home. I haven’t been able to check in on the security footage since I’ve been driving, but as I get home and walk through the front door, I find it suspiciously quiet.
“Blair?” I call out, striding through the house and dumping the million bottles of milk onto the counter. “Where are you?”
“Oh shit,” I hear from somewhere deeper in the house. “You’re home already?”
“What are you doing?”
“I uhhh . . . nothing,” she calls out as I hear a flurry of movement along with a shitload of thumping, and is that . . . sloshing? I barely get a chance to turn around before I hear her racing down the hall. She comes into view, completely drenched. “I was on top of all my work so I thought I’d do a deep clean of the bathroom.”
