"I cannot tell you how much better I feel," she sighs, emerging from the bathroom with heavy, damp curls framing her face, which is still flushed from the warmth of the bath. "You're my hero, Jacky boy."
"Anytime, pretty girl," I say, scooting over to give her room to crawl into the space in the pregnancy pillow she still sleeps with every night.
"I would say I'd owe you my firstborn," she says, snuggling her face into the plush fabric. "But you basically already have her, so I'll have to come up with something else."
"You don't owe me anything," I say, heart swelling at even the slightest hint that she might know how much Erin means to me. "And I do not, she's entirely yours—mama's girl through and through."
"Don't patronize me," she says, scowling. "I swear some days she likes you better than me. You wouldn't even have to steal her, she'd just go with you gladly."
"Well I have no intention of stealing her," I say, pulling the quilt up and over Abby and the pillow. "Besides, what am I going to do, steal her from the nursery just to take her across the hall? I'd be the world's worst thief."
"I know you'll have to leave us eventually," she says, her drowsy voice laced with a hint of sadness. "But try not to steal her away when you do."
"I'm not leaving any time soon, you don't need to worry about that," I say hoarsely.
How do I tell her I'd stay forever if she'd let me?
"And if anything, she's stolen me. And I don't care to try and steal me back. She can have me for as long as she wants," I add, stroking her cheek as her eyes flutter shut.
You both can.
Chapter 38
Abby
Two Months
"Baby's first outing," I sing, buckling Erin into her carseat and pretending like I'm not completely freaking out.
So far, we've only left the house for doctor appointments, and even then I'm in a state of panic. At home, I know she's safe—she's either in her bassinet, my arms, or Jack's. There's so much I can't control once we're out in the wild. What if someone runs a red light and hits us? What if a freak storm comes out of nowhere and we get sucked up into a tornado? What if there's some new plague and we end up being patient zero? Ellie has always been the anxious one between the two of us, but now that my world revolves around protecting my sweet Little One, the world has never seemed so scary.
This is the first time we're doing a social outing, and the first time I've been alone with her in the car. Jack has driven us to every appointment so far so I can sit in the back with her, never taking my eyes off her sweet face for even a moment. The two feet between the driver's seat and where she's strapped in might as well be a hundred yard chasm.
I pull away from the curb slowly, checking the rearview mirror almost as much as I look out of the front windshield.
"C'mon, Abs, calm down," I mutter to myself. "Eyes on the road. She's fine. You're fine. Everything is fine."
I take the familiar route to the Thompson home, going five under the speed limit the whole way. I don't give a fuck whether other drivers are annoyed with me or not—speed feels like the only thing I can control right now, and no amount of social pressure in the world is going to make me go one fraction of a mile faster than I want to.
I don't breathe easy again until we've pulled into the driveway and the car is in park. I slump forward, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel and inhaling slow, deep breaths. Anything to try and get my heart rate down. Once I feel like my legs won't turn to jelly the second I step out of the car, I get out and practically sprint around to Erin's door, desperate to get her out of the two ton metal death trap.
Who the fuck thought cars were a good idea, and how do I go back in time to punch them?
My hand is still shaking slightly when I ring the doorbell.
"My two favorite girls!" Alan exclaims joyfully, ushering us in and taking the carseat from me. I set the sage and cream striped diaper bag down with a thump, then give Alan a quick hug before he disappears into the living room with his granddaughter.
"Hello, my dear," Andrea says, kissing my cheek. When she pulls away, whatever she sees on my face causes her to frown. "Are you okay? You look pale, come sit down."
I sit on the couch, releasing a shaky breath and pushing my curls back and off of my clammy forehead.
"Does that ever get easier?" I ask tensely while Andrea rubs comforting circles on my back. "I feel like I'm going to die every time I have to take her out of the house."
"Oh sweetie," she cries. "We could have come to you, you didn't need to work yourself up coming over here."
"No, I wanted to," I insist. "It was going to happen eventually, a quick trip to the grandparents felt like a good step. I'm glad we're here, I'm just a little shaky, that's all."
"It does get easier, I promise," Alan says, lifting Erin from her carseat and cradling her in his arms. "Everything feels like the scariest thing in the world at first. I remember the first time I gave Aaron a bath, I was scared to death I was going to somehow drown him even though there was literally no standing water."
