Page 41 of His Relentless Angel

She sniffles and looks longingly at the front door. “At the store. We ran out of diapers.”

“So he should be back soon. Maybe you can take a nap when he gets here?”

“He hasn’t slept in ten years either. What are we going to do?” The question is whispered, but if anything, her gray eyes have grown wider with hysteria.

I wish I could take more time off from work to help her, but I don’t want to test the limits of Starlight’s understanding and generosity. “What about Mom and Autumn? Haven’t they been helping?”

“Yes, but Brady is on that new travel baseball team, so he and Mom left early this morning. And Autumn went out of town with Dad last night for some meeting since she started working with him. Clara’s only two weeks old, and I’m falling apart. It’s never been like this. What do I do?”

“Have you thought about hiring a nanny?” I don’t know their financial situation, but even with as often as Shayla and James take maternity and paternity leave, they both have successful careers in the same general field Isaiah is in, so I’m pretty sure they can afford it.

Shayla bursts into tears, her chest heaving with her sobs, and she hugs Clara tight to her shoulder while she burps her. “James fell in love with me when I was Grayson’s babysitter. What if he falls in love with the nanny?” That question comes out as a wail that startles all of us.

James, who had just walked in with two bulk packs of diapers, drops them with a boom and is immediately at her opposite side, cupping her cheeks to make her look up at him. He asks with sheer disbelief, “Is that why you won’t let me hire help? You thought I would fall in love with someone else?” Her small chin quivers and she nods. “Never. Do you hear me, angel? I could never love anyone but you. You’re it for me. My one. My heart,” he says with unwavering worship. “I loved you long before you ever babysat for me. You know that.” Shayla hiccups, and then they kiss and then kiss some more, and suddenly, I feel like a third wheel.

I stand and back away. “This is how you ended up with so many kids,” I say under my breath.

By the time they’re done, they’re both breathless. “We’ll hire whoever you’re comfortable with, so long as you finally let me hire someone, at least until the kids go back to school,” James says.

Shayla agrees and slumps back.

Yeah, I’m definitely not having this many kids.

“In the meantime, is there anything we can do to help? Like the dishes or laundry.” I eye James’s black T-shirt, stained with what I hope is dried spit-up and not poop. “Whatever you need.”

“Take them,” Shayla pleads with feverish eyes as James reclips her nursing top to cover her breasts.

“Take them…the kids? Where?”

“Anywhere. Just take them out of the house so we can sleep for a few hours while Clara naps. Please, please, please. I’ll pay you!”

“Ew, no, you’re not going to pay me to babysit my own family.” I chew the inside of my cheek and look at Isaiah. He gives me a nod, pouring more orange juice for Artie. “Ok, but we’ll have to borrow your Suburban if you’re comfortable with Isaiah driving it.”

Shayla lunges out of the recliner to grab her car keys and hurls them like a fastball at Isaiah, who catches them before they can nail him in the face. “Thank you!” And then she grabs James’s hand and waddle-jogs down the hallway toward her bedroom with Clara still on her shoulder. Not five seconds later, she’s in the kitchen hugging and kissing each of her kids. “I love you so much! So, so, so much! Don’t come back for, like, five hours.” And then she disappears again.

“At least we don’t have to take the newborn,” I say to Isaiah as we wait for the older kids to finish breakfast. “I’m not sure if she’s used to taking a bottle yet or if she refuses it like Grayson did when James got guardianship of him.”

“Would have been good practice,” he says, pulling me in front of him to hug me from behind with his hand on my lower belly, which flutters when he kisses the crook of my neck. I may not be wearing one of my dresses, but he makes me feel just as sexy in one of his band T-shirts and old leggings.

“Is Uncle Isaiah our for real uncle?” Gentry asks Grayson, who is staring at us with brows pinched with confusion.

“Oh shit,” I whisper, pulling away from Isaiah. He moves his hands to my hips and lets them linger until I’m too far away, groaning low with disappointment.

After clearing the table and helping the younger ones brush their teeth and get dressed for the hot, summer day, we buckle everyone into the Suburban. Isaiah backs out of the driveway after looking up an address on his phone.

“Where are we going?”

He grins. “Just a few blocks over.” His grin is even larger when he parks at the curb in front of a natural sandy-colored brick home with a tall wooden FOR SALE sign hammered into the front yard close to the street.

The house, much like the others in my parents’ neighborhood, is a one-story built sometime in the fifties or sixties, shaded by a huge pine tree and an oak. The attached two-car garage on the left and bright white shutters hugging the large picture window at the front of the house match the freshly painted front door with a half-moon window of yellow and orange stained glass inset above the peephole. It has a porch that looks to be a new addition, spanning half the width of the house, with a wicker bench and table set taking up the bulk of the space.

Hardly taking a full breath as we help the kids out of the vehicle, I ask, “What are we doing here?”

Holding Mirabel on his hip, Isaiah turns to the shiny white Mercedes that pulls up and parks behind us. A slim man with dark hair, dressed in a slate gray suit despite the heat, steps out. He’s probably a decade older than Isaiah, with a wide, perfectly white smile caged by prominent laugh lines in his tawny brown face.

Isaiah introduces Gupreet as our realtor instead of his realtor, which sets my heart racing. After a quick handshake, Gupreet sweeps his arm toward the house and asks, “So, what do you think? First impressions?”

I’m still stuck on Gupreet being our realtor, so I let Isaiah answer for us. “First impressions—it’s beautiful. I like the large front yard and the trees. The oak looks sturdy enough to put up a rope swing or two.” Isaiah puts his hand on my back. “What do you think, baby?”

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