“George?” she called as loudly as she dared.
He popped his head out of the half bathroom off the den. “I hate to tell you this, but there’s a diaper in the toilet, and if I’m not mistaken, that little monster had something to do with it.”
“Moster?” Johnny asked.
“Just you, buddy.” Emma helped him to his feet.
He reached down and patted the crinkly material of his new diaper.
“From now on, only I take off your diapers. And no toilets. You stay away from those.”
“Banned?” Johnny asked.
“Yes, you’re banned.”
“How does he know that word?” George asked.
“It’s a long story. Is the toilet okay?”
“He didn’t flush it. If that were the case, we’d probably be calling a plumber. But those little diaper beads escaped everywhere. You wanna bring me some plastic gloves and a trash bag?”
“I’m on it.” She pulled three matchbox cars out of the duffle bag and handed them to Johnny. “Stay right here, buddy. Promise?”
He nodded, already running the cars along the length of the couch.
She ran and got the gloves and trash bag from the cabinets under the kitchen sink, and grabbed a container of disinfectant wipes as well. Before she could decide whether he might need some type of strainer to capture all the errant beads, there was an angry moan that sounded like Emmy being woken up. Emma ran back in with the supplies, and sure enough, in the thirty seconds she’d been gone, Johnny had decided to use his sister as a race track.
George came out of the bathroom holding an armful of towels. “Sorry, I should have been watching him. We should wash these. He pulled all the towels off the racks and I think they got sprinkled with toilet water.”
Emma hung her head. “Isabella must be a ninja or something. How does she do it?” Leaving the gloves, trash bag, and disinfectant wipes on the bathroom counter, Emma relieved George of his towel burden and headed to the laundry room. Emmy followed, asking for breakfast.
Would the whole day be like this? Emma yawned and started a load of towels, washed her hands, and got Emmy breakfast. In a moment of panic, she realized she didn’t know what Johnny was up to and ran back to find him and George playing cars on the floor.
George laughed at her panicked face, knowing exactly what she’d been thinking.
Despite the craziness of the morning, working as a team like this had succeeded in eliminating the awkwardness between them. Emma hoped it wasn’t a temporary truce. There was no one else in the world she’d rather embark with on a crash-course in parenting.
She still wasn’t sure what to do about Harriet, but for the weekend at least, she could set that aside. A lot depended on whether George had any interest in Harriet. He’d been awfully concerned with whether or not Emma was treating her well, and he hadn’t liked Harriet flirting with Elton at the party. Was that interest?
What if it was? Emma’s chest tightened at the thought. The mature thing would be to accept George’s request for friendship and let the thought of anything else go. Emma didn’t feel like being mature.
Emma had never liked any of George’s girlfriends, but she’d always told herself it was because they weren’t right for him. Had it always been jealousy, even before she was aware of her feelings for him?
If it wasn’t Harriet, someday it would be someone else. Emma wasn’t blind to the way women looked at George. What would happen when some lucky woman snatched him up, and he didn’t have time for the two of them anymore? They’d still see each other since Isabella was married to his brother, but maybe this weekend was the last of its kind.
These morbid thoughts were not helping. She was already sleep deprived and needed to be on her game. Her focus should be on the kids. Putting away the milk and rinsing the dishes, she quizzed Emmy on what she might like to do today. The little girl stopped mid-sentence in her answer as George came running into the kitchen with Johnny in one arm and his phone in the other.
“Girls, look!”
“Baby,” Johnny said proudly, pointing to George’s phone.
“Oh.” Emma dropped the dishrag she’d been holding, and George bent down so the four of them could all see together.
Announcing George Edison Knightley. Born at 5:45 a.m. 4 pounds, 12 ounces. We’ll be in the NICU for a while but all are well.
George’s namesake was tiny, and red, and absolutely perfect. Emma felt like her heart grew ten times over just looking at him. Her eyes turned to George, and she softly pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving her lips there for a moment. Not wanting to ruin the moment with reading into any reaction he might or might not have, she left their little celebratory circle and went to find her phone so she could call Isabella.
Chapter 17♥Like a Sleepover
