“Hey,” I toss our visitor’s way as I get out of the vehicle, running around to unbuckle our wailing princess and try to soothe her without whipping out a boob since we’ve got company.
“Did I miss something?” Caylon asks, taking out of the car all the things that her highness will require inside. He’s soon so laden that Stefan jumps forward to help. Reassuring him all the while that this is just an impromptu visit as though we’re not all aware it won’t be anything like that.
“Come on, sweetie,” I coax Molly, bumping her up and down while I close my eyes for a second, for the teeniest tiniest break. “Go back to sleep for just a few minutes, then I’ll feed you until you’re bursting.”
The temptation isn’t equal to her perceived discomfort however, and she gives another wail, this one louder than the first.
“Can I take her?”
I stare at Stefan as though he just appeared from another planet and demanded a sacrifice. “No.”
“I’m good with kids.”
“Why? What horrible things do you threaten them with?”
He shrugs. “I just growl at them. They seem to like it.”
For the longest second, I imagine what that deep voice would sound like, mumbling aggressive temptations into Molly’s tiny ear. The effect is so disturbing that I cart her inside, hiding my reddening cheeks in the masses of swaddling covering my daughter from head to toe.
“I don’t know what he wants,” Effie greets me with when I come barrelling through the front door. “I told him to go away but he wouldn’t, so I made him wait outside.”
Stefan clears his throat. “You’re all acting as though I’m the villain in your story when everyone knows I’m a misunderstood hero.”
I arch my eyebrow as he parks his bulk in the doorway, not crossing the threshold so he’s not officially breaking Effie’s request but still.
“Can you summarise what you want in three words or fewer?”
“Estate planning for Molly.”
Caylon appears behind him, clicking his tongue when Stefan doesn’t immediately vacate his position to let him through. “That’s four words, by the way. Not a promising start.”
“Did you finish those adjustments to the camera feeds at the club?”
“The ones you insisted weren’t due until the end of the month, no hurry, just get to them when you can, I know you have a lot going on with your daughter so any time you can is fine with me. Those ones?”
He dumps most of his burdens near the door, sorting through to find the spoilable items to throw them in the fridge, leaving everything else to sort later when we don’t have unwanted house guests.
Our first appointment of the day was at a nanny agency that hasn’t yet met our needs. The more qualified people I meet for the role, the less I like the idea of anyone else being involved in raising our baby. At cross-purposes, I’m also fully aware that I’m already struggling with Molly and although I’ve happily given up my studies for the moment, I would ideally like to resume them before our daughter turns eighteen.
Caylon also insisted on a late-stage drop-in at Zach’s place. A casual spur-of-the-moment decision that mysteriously occurred on the same day that Sierra had a half-day at school, and that Trent, and Lily’s old flatmates, Rosa and Finley, were also visiting.
Not that I’m saying my darling boyfriend organised everything behind my back, but I’ve had to be better behaved than I expected so my current exhaustion is at least ninety percent his fault.
Watching everyone dote on my daughter was a nerve-wracking experience that left me wrung out while doing absolutely no work. I’m also aware she was a hit, knocked it straight out of the ballpark, and a lot of future ‘unplanned’ events will probably follow.
Seeing Lily’s fast friendships, I’m also acutely aware that I never repaired mine. Dee got more friendly as we approached the end of the year, increasing along with my baby weight. We occasionally sat together in class, chatting, playing bitchy catch-up, but nothing like what it had been.
Effie insists I’ll make heaps of friends the moment I step my foot onto an actual campus, but I still have a wriggle of fear in my belly at the thought.
“Molly’s a bit young for estate planning,” I tell Stefan since nobody else seems ready to oblige. “Perhaps call back in about eighteen years.”
“It’s good news.”
I bump my baby a few more times, resigned to the fact it’s not going to work but cursed to try, regardless. “If you’re staying, I’m about to breastfeed this one, so make it quick.”
“You can feed her in front of me. I don’t mind.”
I roll my eyes at Caylon and when he doesn’t give me an appropriate reaction, roll them again at Effie. Luckily, she knows which way to butter me up, and immediately snorts with laughter, nodding. “You appear to have mistaken that for an invitation, so let’s be clear. It’s not.”
