I forced myself to speak what was on my mind for Rosie’s sake. Because I knew that
I could not continue like this, or I would lose it, which would be terrible for her. So I looked him right in the eye. “I don’t want you to help me out of guilt.”
“I’m not here out of guilt. I’m here because I think about you all the time. I miss you. Both of you. I miss being…here.”
Did I hear him right? Did that mean that he could love this baby?
I couldn’t focus with the crying. I couldn’t focus on anything. I looked into his worried brown eyes. “If you want to help me right now, there is one thing you can do.”
“Sure. Anything.” He seemed sincere. “You name it.”
Without any warning, I deposited the inconsolable baby into his arms. He froze, fumbled a little, and hung onto her. “Please take her and let me sleep for an hour.”
He looked stunned. A little shocked. But hey, he’d offered, right? And he didn’t turn away.
He stared at the tiny baby in his big arms, and I stared at him holding her in those big arms and held my breath. Rosie, startled by the sudden switch, stopped wailing for one second and then started right back.
I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I ran down the hall to my bedroom, closed the door, and collapsed onto my bed.
Chapter Fifteen
Adam
At first, I was stunned. Terrified of the wailing, wiggling creature in my arms—even though I knew all about how babies worked, at least from treating them. But I didn’t know squat aboutcaringfor them.
Let’s be real. I didn’t know much about caring for anybody.
“It’s okay, Arn.” The dog was pacing the hallway, worried about Ani no doubt, probably as upset as the rest of us by Rosie’s screaming. “Everything’s okay.” I wasn’t really sure if my weak attempt to calm him down was actually directed at him. It might have been more for my sake.
I only knew that I couldn’t go on taking the easy way out, avoiding anything that might cause pain. Trying to control my ER, and every aspect of my life, to avoid being hurt.
Because if I kept on avoiding feeling anything, others would move in. With yoga mats and cooking skills, maybe.
One look at the purplish, screaming, toothless bundle in my arms, and my armor cracked. Not a pretty sight to most, but to me she was, in all her earsplitting glory. A fierce surge ofprotectiveness came over me for both of the amazing females in my life. All the feelings I’d tried so hard to dam up came flooding through.
I, I thought fiercely, was the one who should be here. Not Dylan, not anyone else. Imperfect, closed off, grumpy me. I only hoped I could seize the moment to be the person they needed me to be.
“Hello,” I said softly, my voice cracking as I backed myself slowly into the recliner. “Um, hi.”
And then, a miracle. The baby suddenly hit the mute button. Her face was still a purply red, but she seemed thoughtful, like she was weighing her options. Like, further potential hours of crying weren’t necessarily out of her wheelhouse if I made one wrong move.
I’d handled countless people on the brink of death, ones whose hearts had stopped, whose windpipes were blocked, whose lungs were full of fluid, who were hemorrhaging to death. I was given the gift of calm in dangerous, terrifying, life-threatening situations.
Yet this tiny, deceptively cute terror in pink footie jammies petrified me beyond words.
“I’m Adam.”
She was a warm little bread loaf in my arms, smelling of baby shampoo and lotion, and her arms and hands seemed to move in slow motion as she extended her fingers, stuffing a bunch of them randomly into her mouth.
I stared at dark blue eyes, the dark mass of hair, the tiny little lips now making sucking noises.
For the past two years, I’d stayed away from Liv’s and my friends as they’d begun having kids. I’d watched from afar as young couples strolled their children and held hands, balancing all kinds of diaper bags and strollers and paraphernalia while I kept my distance, at first a jealous watch.
And then I avoided it entirely. All of it. Everyone. I’d slammed the door on all my feelings. If I couldn’t have Liv and the life she and I planned, I didn’t want any of it.
“It’s all good, baby. Everything’s going to be just great.”
Arnold looked up at me with soulful eyes. “I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re all okay,” I chanted sing-song like a wild man, sneaking a hand down to rub his head. Do dogs roll their eyes? He was certainly wondering why I’d brought him here. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was just him and me from now on, buds for life.
