“Hazel, please don?—”
She let rip a shriek so loud and sharp it belonged in a horror film.
“What’s wrong with her?” Liam’s head poked round a stack of boxes, eyes wide.
“How the hell should I know?” I rocked her gently. She screamed harder.
“Try feeding her, mate. Babies eat, right?” Liam started patting his pockets like he might find a solution buried in his jeans. “I’ll call Violet.”
“No!” The word flew out, louder than I meant. Last thing I needed was Violet hearing I’d caved after ninety seconds.
Liam paused, phone halfway out of his pocket. “She said emergencies?—”
“It’s not an emergency, it’s—” Hazel’s cries ramped up, echoing off the tile, shattering whatever pride I had left. “It’s just a very passionate performance.”
I deposited a screaming Hazel back into her car seat and darted to the kitchen. I yanked open the fridge so hard something rattled inside. I grabbed the bottle, nearly dropping it as Hazel’s screams grew manic.
Liam blinked at me. “She’s a baby, not Adele. Feed her.”
“I’m trying!”
I dripped some on my wrist the way Violet had done. Too cold. Hazel’s shriek hit a frequency that could shatter carbon fibre.
“Microwave?” I shot at Liam.
“Do you even know how long?”
I shook my head, already jabbing random numbers. “If I nuke it, is that child endangerment?”
“Probably, but she’s not getting quieter.”
Ten seconds. Checked again. Still freezing. My hands shook as I shoved it back into the microwave.
Liam jiggled a rattle in her direction. “She hates this giraffe.”
“She hatesme.” I tested the bottle and swore. It was too hot now.
I dunked it in cold water, heart thudding like a penalty lap. Hazel’s cries wavered, then surged back stronger.
“We’re losing,” Liam muttered, waving the rattle like a surrender flag.
“I know,” I growled.
One more test. Warm. Perfect. I rushed back into the living room and scooped Hazel up, shoving the bottle into her mouth.
Silence. Glorious, immediate silence, apart from greedy sucking and my racing pulse.
Liam sagged against a pile of nappies. “I never want to experience that again.”
I glared at him. “We’re not telling Violet a thing.”
Hazel burped, a milky eruption all down my front.
“Yeah. We handled it.” Liam grinned. “How’s domestic bliss treating you?”
I grimaced, wiping the worst of the mess off my t-shirt with a burp cloth before settling a now-drowsy Hazel back into the car seat. She blinked once, then her eyes drifted shut. Satisfied she wasn't going to start screaming again, I turned back to the stack of deliveries.
I shot him a dark look. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
