Page 25 of More Than Friends

“Char,” I say, watching her closely as she takes the lid off the can of formula. I narrow my eyebrows when she sticks her hand in the container, but I figure out what she’s doing the moment she pulls a little scoop from inside. “This isn’t your responsibility to take on. I know you’ve got a lot going on in your life, and the last thing I need to do is add to your plate by asking you to help me figure out how to be a father.”

“The milk is the perfect temperature.” She completely ignores what I’m saying by wrapping her fingers around my wrist and lifting my arm between us. She taps the top of the bottle against the inside of my wrist. “Feel that? Not too hot, but not cold either. She should take this.” She hands the bottle to me and gives me an encouraging smile. “Time to feed her.”

I don’t know why I suddenly feel so anxious, but my heart hammers against my chest at the idea of feeding my daughter.

Charlotte bumps her hip against mine. “I’m right here with you. You can feed her. You’ve got this, Jude.”

I stare at her for a moment, wondering how I got so lucky to have a friend like her. I haven’t even wrapped my head around having a daughter myself, yet somehow, she seems to have full confidence in me. She doesn’t ask questions I can’t even begin to answer. All she does is step up and help me in my time of need, and I wish my mind wasn’t spinning so I could properly thank her for it.

Charlotte takes the bottle from my hand and nods toward the living room. “How about I hold the bottle, and you grab Ava, and we’ll go to the couch together to feed her?” She keeps her voice soft and reassuring, knowing what I need from her without me having to say anything.

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. My pulse spikes the closer I get to Ava. This won’t be the first time I hold her, but with Charlotte’s eyes on me, I suddenly get self-conscious about how I hold my daughter. I have no idea if I’m doing it right, and it’s something Charlotte’s done countless times.

Is she going to judge me?

Will I hold Ava the right way?

Is there an angle I’m supposed to hold the bottle at?

Will Charlotte think I’m not qualified to raise a baby?

Ava lets out a little squeal the moment I crouch down in front of her. “Hi, baby girl,” I whisper, unable to fight the smile on my lips when I carefully place one of my hands behind her head and the other at her back. Ava excitedly kicks her legs as I lift her off the pillows. She’s squirmy, making me even more anxious to lift her from the ground.

I carefully pull her to my chest, closing my eyes for a moment as I stand to my full height with her. I don’t have to look at Charlotte to know she’s watching me carefully, and it makes me nervous. I know she knows I’m brand-new to this, but I still don’t want her to believe I’m not cut out for being a father.

Except…am I cut out for this?

I try to push the thought from my mind as I slowly walk to the couch where Charlotte sits. When I’m finally brave enough to meet her gaze, all I see in her eyes is encouragement. Her lips curve up into the hint of a smile, her stare never wavering from mine as I take a seat on the couch next to her.

“She’s so cute I can’t handle it,” Charlotte mutters, easing some of the tension I feel.

I carefully adjust my position next to her before returning her smile with my own smirk. “She gets that from me.” I wink and savor the way Charlotte rolls her eyes at me. The last day has been one unexpected thing after another with her, and seeing her react to me the way she always has is oddly comforting.

Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed at all. The realization causes the knot of anxiety in my chest to loosen.

Maybe I can do this…as long as I have Charlotte.

“You’ll learn this early on,” Charlotte begins, gently tickling Ava’s belly, “but your daddy isn’t humble in the slightest. He’s full of himself, and we love him anyway.”

We love him anyway.I don’t know what it is about those words, but they make me smile.

“Is it really being full of myself if it’s just the truth?”

I get another eye roll from her, and I love it. There’s no awkwardness between us, even though we haven’t talked about what happened—oralmosthappened—last night. She isn’t acting like she regrets anything from last night, but isn’t acting like anything has changed either. Instead, she’s focused on helping me with Ava.

“So you’ll want to cradle her in the crook of your arm,” Charlotte instructs. Her fingers brush against my skin as she helps adjust Ava’s position in my arms. It feels like she’s lying too far back, but I trust Charlotte knows what she’s doing.

Charlotte’s breath tickles my cheek as she makes sure Ava’s head is supported well. I meet her gaze, unable to calm my racing heart. With her this close, all I can think about is last night.

About how it felt to press my lips against hers.

About how she looked at me in a way she’s never looked at me before.

I blink, trying to push the thoughts aside, because the last thing I need to be doing is thinking about kissing her when she’s trying to help me learn how to be a good father to another woman’s baby.

“Now you’ll just give her the milk. About halfway through, we’ll pay attention to whether she’s uncomfortable or not. If she seems like something’s bothering her, we’ll burp her in themiddle of the feed. She might not need it until the end though. We’ll just have to see.”

I nod as Charlotte hands over the bottle. I shouldn’t be so nervous to feed Ava, but I am. I don’t want to mess it up.