I shake my head. “You’re already wound and you’re breastfeeding.”
She stops mid-stride and closes her eyes like she wants to swear at the sky for forgetting one more thing she has to remember.
“You need real food,” I add. “Protein. Something that’ll keep you upright longer than fumes and pressure.”
Her eyes snap open, irritation sparking and not at me. The universe, and probably the entire male population.
“I don’t have time to sit and eat,” she argues. “I need to find a place to live, call the moving company, update?—”
“Stop.” I don’t raise my voice, but she hears me. “You don’t run on a battery like a phone. You don’t fuel yourself, you fall over. Then who takes care of her?”
Savannah lets out a soft little baby chirp looking up at me. I lean down and ask her, “Hey little one, you backing me up?”
“Fine,” she whispers. “Lunch.”
I nod and steer us toward a quiet corner spot nearby. Brick exterior. Warm light. Not trendy, solid. Not a place that social media has picked up on. The kind of place you can sit without someone snapping a photo.
We step inside, and when we’re seated and have ordered, she has a steak, I have a salad and chicken, and Claudia starts digging in her bag for wipes and toys and all the miniature gear that comes with tiny humans.
I hold out my arms. “Give her to me.”
She hesitates. Reflexive. Protective. Incredibly sexy. Her inner momma bear is incredibly sexy. It speaks to my natural instinct to do the same.
“Doc,” I say softly. “Eat. This little one and I are gonna take a walk. You take a break.”
Her eyes flick up. Searching for an answer.
I motion around the place. “A few laps in here.”
Then slowly, she unclips Savannah, hands her over, and something in my chest… settles.
Feels right. Too right.
Savannah blinks up at me, sleepy and soft, and immediately grabs a fistful of my shirt. Tiny warm little fingers.
Claudia looks like she might cry.
“Food first,” I tell her, adjusting the baby like I’ve done this all my life. “We’ll take a lap and check out the scenery.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
It’s not a line. It’s truth.
I sling Savannah against my chest like she belongs there and nudge Claudia’s plate toward her when it arrives.
“Eat,” I say again, quiet but firm. “We’ll be right here.”
Then I turn and walk slowly along the front windows, bouncing Savannah lightly, whispering to her like we have all the time in the world.
“You and your mom,” I murmur to the tiny warm bundle in my arms. “You’re gonna change everything, aren’t you?”
Her fingers curl into my collar. My heart does that thing I don’t have the words to explain.
I glance back. Claudia’s watching us, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes soft, stunned, and just a little shattered.
I gesture to her plate.
