“Yes. Well, having brothers who don’t answer text messages brings out the best in me, obviously.”
“Speaking of said message. Did your panicked tone have something to do with the red-faced banshee on your shoulder?”
His face dropped, and he ground his teeth, curling his body around Eloise in a way only a parent could. A weird mix of pride and absurdity bubbled in my gut as I stared at Mark, still confused as to why he messaged me. There were our three brothers, a mother, a mother-in-law, and who knew how many friends he could have texted. Surely, mass text messages were sent before he reached out to me.
Did he have faith in my ability as an uncle, or was I a last resort?
Either way, my confidence was tanking after its earlier boost with Emma.
“She won’t stop crying, Miller. This is the first time—thefirsttime Jenna has left the house, and my daughter will not stop caterwauling like I’m stabbing her with hot pokers.”
“Um. Have you called Mom?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck as he practically shoved Eloise in my face.
Way to inspire confidence, idiot.
“Does she feel warm to you? What about cold? Can babies get too cold? Fuck, I cannot call Jenna, and Mom isn’t answering her phone.”
“Okay. Dude. Breathe,” I said, putting both hands on his shoulders and steering him to the couch. He held her closer and sat down, cradling her in his arms as the shrieking reached new decibels that were sure to damage my upper-range hearing.
“She’s not hungry, and she’s dry. I’ve sang and bounced and rocked her, but she won’t stop crying.”
“Right,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Here, let me hold her.”
I can do this—I can be the reliable one.
He nodded, carefully passing her over and groaning. “What does the book say?” I gestured to one of several baby books on their coffee table. I was not used to being the calm one in a situation but was determined to at least de-escalate Mark’s rantings until a more suitable substitute could be found.
“That sometimes babies cry.” He gritted his teeth, putting his head in his hands as I looked over Eloise. Sheseemedokay, other than a beet-red face and tiny baby fists clenched in anger.
“Right. Stupid-ass book. Um. We can do this. We are capable men who will not be bested by a ten-pound infant with an attitude problem.”
“Hey. That’s my baby girl,” he said, elbowing me in the arm that was not holding the flailing infant.
“Yes. Well, your baby girl is obviously trying to tell you something. We just need to figure out what it is.”
Good job. Remain calm.
Mark jumped up, pacing the room and running his hands through his hair as I lifted Eloise to my shoulder. She had on a onesie with pink rubber duckies, and I touched her fingers and toes to see if the crying got worse or better. Against my better judgment, I lifted her diaper-covered booty to my nose and sniffed, grateful all I got was laundry detergent and that unique baby scent that had her mother and mine constantly sniffing Eloise’s head.
“The book has to have another suggestion other thanbabies sometimes cry.Let’s figure it out, or call your wife and tell her you’re a shit babysitter.”
“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own kid, prick.”
I shrugged, adjusting the still-crying Eloise and wondering if, with that lung capacity, she’d one day become an Olympic diver.
“Not to be unsympathetic or anything, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and my ears are bleeding. We need reinforcements.”
“Don’t swear in front of the baby,” Mark hissed, reaching over to cover her ears.
“Dude. She can’t hear us over that racket. I have no problem admitting defeat at the hands of my niece. So, either call someone or pass me your fu—freaking phone. Please.”
I stretched out my hand, motioning for his phone with an eyebrow arched. He huffed, crossing his arms as I rolled my eyes and adjusted Eloise again. Finally, with all the drama of a prepubescent teenager, he handed it over, and I quickly thumbed to the search bar. Surely Dr. Google would be able to assist if this dunderhead refused to call in proper reinforcements.
“So, what were you doing this morning?” he asked, way too casual for someone who was slowly going deaf. He fell onto the cushions beside me, running a hand through his hair before reaching over to pat Eloise’s back.
“Huh?”
“Maybe she’s reading the room and won’t calm down until I do. Jenna said babies can pick up on the tension and anxiety around them.”
