“What?” God, this woman’s going to drive me nuts. When will she realize she can say anything to me, and I’m not going to balk?
“It’s nothing.” She rubs her hand over her heart. “Just the sight of you holding a baby is giving me palpitations. I might need a nitro pill.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Save one for me. I thought I was having a heart attack a minute ago.”
“Jake?”
“Yes?”
Her hazel eyes meet mine. “I’m scared.”
The fear in her eyes makes my gut roll. It’s not about Chad. He’s a distant memory for her at this point. Even if she were thinking about him, she’d walk straight up to him and punch him in the gut. And it’s not about taking care of the baby. She could do that with her eyes closed.
This look of fear is about surviving when the baby goes to her forever home.
I cup her cheek. “I know, love. But you’re the strongest woman I know. And I’m here with you every step of the way.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “Thank you. I don’t think I could do this without you.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Emily
Five hours later, I’m on my knees on the floor in front of a bright red faced, tear-soaked infant thrashing inside a pink plastic bathtub. I smooth a handful of lukewarm water onto her thigh while holding her head up from the basin.
“Sweetheart, why’re you crying?”
When I removed her onesie, her face scrunched with disapproval. When I took off her diaper, she cried. When I placed her in the water, it was more of the same.
I should be used to it by now. I’ve changed her diaper six times today and there hasn’t been a different response.
“Sweet baby….” Tears sting my eyes as I lean over her, lift her from the tub and wrap her in the softest towel I own. “I’m sorry you hate me.”
My head pounds as I swaddle her inside the white cloth. This was a huge mistake. I plop onto my butt because the strain of caring for a baby that would rather be raised by wolves has me wanting to collapse in a heap and cry myself to sleep.
As I cradle her to my chest, her face smooths and her eyelids fall shut. She’s as exhausted as I am.
A knocking at the door has my heart dropping to my feet. The last thing I need is for Jake to see me like this. Stressed. Sad. Worried. My hair is limp and falling out of the bun on top of my head until the band is hanging at the base of my skull.
My clothes aren’t faring any better. My mauve T-shirt is soaked. I don’t even know what the moisture is from. Her sobs, mine, formula, bathwater? A combination of all of it? It’s hard to say at this point.
“Em, open up.”
“I’m tired.”
“Em….” The wrapping on the wood re-starts. “Let me in so I can help you.”
Fuck. A tear slips down my cheek. “I’m–”
“Emily, open the door.” His voice is low and clear through the crack of the door. It’s that commanding tone he uses as a police officer that has me scrambling to my feet with the baby safely tucked against me.
After I trudge to the door, I glance through the peephole, confirming he’s alone. He is.
It’s unfair. He’s clean with damp hair from his shower, not bodily fluids. I yank open the door and sniff. He smells like soap, and his eyes haven’t lost all hope. I shake my head and step out of the way as he closes the door with a snap.
“What’s wrong? Is the baby sick?” He places a hand on her forehead, feeling for a temperature.
“No, she’s fine. At least, I think so. How in the world would I know though.”
