This time it’s worse.
Nothing works.
Not rocking.
Not walking.
Not pacing the room like a nervous animal.
Definitely not singing.
Never doing that again.
I’m halfway through another lap around the room when Laney appears in the doorway.
Her hair is a mess.
Her eyes are half closed.
But she’s smiling a little.
“I heard her,” she says softly.
“I’ve got it,” I say immediately.
She hesitates.
Like she’s deciding whether to argue.
Then she nods.
And sits in the chair anyway.
“She likes it when you hold her like that,” Laney says quietly.
I adjust my grip, shifting the baby slightly against my shoulder.
Almost instantly—
She settles.
Of course she does.
Laney smiles.
“Traitor,” I mutter to the baby.
Laney laughs.
It’s quiet.
Real.
The kind of laugh that doesn’t come from fear or exhaustion.
Just relief.
We sit there in the low light for a while.
