“It’s on the bottle. We just need to fill the water up to the four-ounce line, then put in two scoops.”
Of course it’s on the bottle. If I’d had a moment of silence, I would have been able to figure that out.
“Now what?” I ask once I’m done.
“You need to put that bottle nipple into the disc and insert that blue tube under the disc. Close it up. Shake. We can see if she’s okay with colder water. If not, we need to heat it up.”
Just as I’m done shaking it, she tries to hand the baby to me.
I back away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you your daughter back.”
I shake my head back and forth like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “She doesn’t like me.”
I think I detect a brief moment of sympathy from Jessie before annoyance takes over. “Come here. Let’s go sit on the couch.”
I follow behind her, not sure how I’m going to get through the evening. What if she leaves me? I’ll die. She can’t leave me.
Chapter Three
Jessie
Ifeel like I’m dreaming. This doesn’t feel like reality. A reality where Walker is a father and he’s askingmefor help. I don’t even know how to digest any of this. But that’s for another time. This poor baby in my arms needs to be soothed.
I sit down on his couch. He stands in front of me, holding the bottle.
I look down at the spot next to me, then back up at him. “Sit down, Walker.”
The fear in his eyes is potent. I can feel it in my bones. He has no idea what to do. And he thinks she doesn’t like him. I don’t like this guy, but I know he needs me to be kind at the moment.
“Walker, it’ll be okay.”
With that, he takes a deep breath and takes a seat next to me. Even in this situation, his nearness puts my skin on high alert. I despise that my body still reacts this way to him.
I shift myself so I’m facing him. “Put your arms out. I’m going to help you through this.”
He obeys, and I place his daughter in the crook of his arm. She starts to cry harder, and he sits up like he’s about to freak out.
“Stop!” I say sternly. “We just need to put the bottle nipple in her mouth.”
I place my hand on his then help him lower the bottle to her lips. I move the nipple over her lips so she can taste the food in between her screaming.
Her eyes open immediately, and she begins sucking. I don’t let go of his hand yet, not until I am confident that she is taking the bottle and not going to spit it out. When I’m sure she won’t refuse the bottle, I take my hand off him and lean back in my seat.
He still looks tense, afraid to move a muscle, as he holds the bottle to her mouth. Not gonna lie; my blood pressure was through the roof with the crying. I understand why it’s so stressful. My body finally starts to settle.
“There you go,” I say as she continues to suck down her milk. “She was just hungry.”
“Is she gonna cry again after this?” he asks, terror written all over his face.
“Eventually, she is. She’s a baby. That’s how she tells you she needs or wants something.”
He doesn’t like that answer. But I’m not going to lie to him. I watch him watch her, and the questions begin to come flooding back to me.
I have to ask, “Walker, did you know about her?”
His eyes meet mine. “Of course not. Do I look like someone who wasn’t caught off guard with a baby? I had no idea.”
