Page 4 of Inked in Devotion

“I don’t deserve to be his mother.” Tears burned my eyes as I gave voice to the conclusion wrapping around my heart.

“Oh, honey.” Dora reached out to me with one arm to give me a quick squeeze. “You do. I know you, remember?”

Yes, she knew me. She showered the rebellious fifteen-year-old me with patience, knowing I was acting up because I thought my mother didn’t want me around anymore. That rainy night when we almost crashed, my mother thought someone was trying to kill us, and that was her reason for sending me away. At that time, I thought either she was paranoid or tired of being saddled with a teenager. I sulked for months until I realized Dora was giving me the stability my mother never had.

The brief ride in the elevator prevented further discussion. Besides, with a bodyguard around, we couldn’t exactly talk about the situation. Thankfully, Hudson was astute, and after dropping off the stroller and the bag, he said he was going to check with the surveillance team in the CCTV room and instructed us to engage all the locks behind him.

The three-bedroom apartment was elegantly appointed with parquet wood floors, high ceilings, and a magnificent view of the city. The airy space heightened my anxiety because previous to this move, I’d stayed hidden in the De Lucci apartments, and before that, a secluded cabin in the mountains. I felt exposed.

“We need to roll up these rugs,” I mumbled. This apartment was baby-proofed against causing Sebastian harm, but not the other way around. “I didn’t have the time to do this before you guys arrived.” I’d been anxious about my meeting with Theo.

“You’re fine. You’ve got the baby gates installed in the kitchen and this portable playpen.” She gestured to the 80-inch-by-50-inch enclosure with a cushioned mat. Sebastian spotted the play balls inside it and made cooing noises while reaching out.

“I’ll fix his lunch.” I checked my watch.

Sebastian appeared quite comfortable being left in the playpen with his favorite stuffed octopus and a host of new toys. It was upsetting how many milestones I had already missed.

Dora gave him a once-over before heading my way. “See, you worry too much. He’ll adjust.”

I blew out a breath. “Babies bond within the first few months.”

“And you were with him for the first five.”

“But I failed to bond with him because…” My voice broke with a strangled sob. “Why was it easy for me to leave him with you?”

I sniffed as I poured milk over Wheaties to let them soak while I heated the pan to cook him eggs. Dora peeled a banana, mashed half of it, and added it to a plate. She offered me the other half. When I shook my head, she ate it.

“Because his safety was more important. Learning that Bruce Davenport—the main executor of Duncan King’s anonymous trust—might have been murdered was enough to make you paranoid. He was the only person who knew where you were hiding and that you had a baby. I know I was fearful until you assured me Davenport’s murderer was dead.”

Dora only knew that it was a mob hit and had no connection to me or the trust. But it did. Jeremiah had bankrolled a multilayer conspiracy for a power grab against Theo.

She gave me another one of her reassuring squeezes. “A baby’s bond to us is more primal. It’s there…he’ll remember with your scent and the more you interact with him.”

We had talked about this last night when I was unexpectedly blindsided by Sebastian’s unwillingness to come to me. It was almost traumatic, and it was making me second-guess every interaction with him. I’d never been fond of babies. Sure, I’d held them for moms in the shelter, but I didn’t think I had the maternal instinct. I didn’t even want to remember the first few weeks after Sebastian’s birth. It was as if I’d birthed an alien and I didn’t know what to do with him. If it weren’t for Dora reminding me of the hormone soup and the lack of sleep, I would have believed I was an evil mom.

Dora was there every step of the way. She took over when I was desperate for sleep. It was through her that I discovered the blessings of having a nighttime nanny.

I had newfound respect for single moms who didn’t even have that kind of support.

“Okay, you wanna try?”

This morning, Dora showed me that Sebastian was capable of self-feeding. Maybe to reassure me that if worse comes to worst, even if he rejected me, he wouldn’t be rejecting food.

I offered a brief nod and rolled my lips, fingers clinging to the plate of food as if it were a lifeline, a bribe so my baby would accept me.

Sebastian’s eyes lit up when he saw what was in my hand, and he left the rubber balls to crawl to the edge of the enclosure closest to me.

“He’ll be pulling up soon; I’ll go get him,” she murmured and walked past me to reach in and lift him.

She set him in the high chair and locked him in. Both of us sat in front of him, and his eyes bounced between us.

“He’s hungry. Good,” Dora said. “Show him the hand that feeds him.”

I laughed. In some ways, all mammals shared the same survival instinct.

I offered him a couple of spoonfuls of the soaked cereal along with the eggs and banana.

He gobbled them up and raised his arms, wanting the plate.