Page 28 of The Rejected Wife

She yawns.

“Are you sleepy?” I watch her features carefully. From somewhere in the hidden recesses of my mind, I recall that you’re supposed to burp a baby after they’ve been fed. I scoop her up in my arms and rise to my feet.

I hold her against my shoulder with great care. Now what? Guess I should pat her back? I can feel her little heart racing against mine. She places her cheek against my shoulder. Then she burps and spits up over my shirt.O-k-a-y?So that’s what happens when they burp? She snuggles against my chest, and that strange melting sensation against my rib cage intensifies.

She begins to get restless. Huh. I begin to pace. Then, copying what Priscilla did, I start to hum the first Green Day song that pops into my head.That it’s called Basket Case is probably my Freudian comment about myself.Thankfully, it seems to work, for her cries lessen. The tension in her small body begins to ease.

I keep humming, slow and steady, rocking her gently against my chest. Her breathing evens out, soft and rhythmic, and when I glance down, her eyes are closed. Her cheeks are warm with color, a faint crease still etched between her brows. But she’s resting now—finally, asleep.

That catch in my chest turns into a wave of something soft. There’s a cracking sensation around my heart. That would be another of the barriers I built to protect myself, breaking down. Meeting Priscilla and this little one within the space of twenty-four hours has rocked the foundations of my world.

I head into the living room and place the baby in the portable carrier. Then carry it into the bedroom.

I place the carrier on the floor next to the bed and sink down onto the mattress, then reach for my phone and dial Connor.

"What?" He answers on the third ring.

When I stay silent, I sense him scowl. "Fine, if you don’t want to speak?—"

I sense him about to disconnect the call and burst out, "A baby."

There’s silence, then he yawns loud enough for me to hear his jaw crack. "No idea what you’re blathering on about, ol’ chap, but it seems like you said?—"

"A kid. An infant."

"You drunk ol’ chap?” He chuckles. “Or high on something else?"

"If only." I bark out a laugh that is far from humorous. "I’m sitting here looking at a carrier holding a tiny tot. And she’s fast asleep. In my bedroom." I rise to my feet and head into the living room, so as not to disturb her.

"You kidding?" His words tell me he’s struggling to believe me. But the clarity in his tone indicates he’s finally caught up with the program.

"Do I sound like I’m kidding?" I glance out the window. "Someone dropped her off with a note."

"And it says the child is yours?" he asks in a disbelieving tone.

"Exactly," I admit slowly.

He chortles.

"It’s not funny," I growl at the phone.

It only makes him laugh louder. There’s a sound of a woman’s voice, which fades in the distance. I assume he’s moving away from whomever he spent the night with. It strikes me, suddenly, that it’s going to be a very long time before I’m going to do that. A child and a dating life don’t go well together. I wouldn’t dream of bringing a woman home, as long as this baby is in my home. The only woman I’d trust with her is… Gone. And I'll never reach out to her. Unless it turns out that the kid isn’t mine. Which I’m going to have to put a rush job on to find out.

Connor continues to chuckle, and I wait until he seems to find some level of composure. "You made my day, arsewipe. Should have wrapped it up tight."

I squeeze the bridge of my nose, deciding not to defend myself. It’s not like it’s going to make a difference. So, I fume silently. A good move, as it turns out, for my lack of words seems to get through his thick skull.

"Damn, you weren’t joking about the kid, were you?" he finally offers.

"Glad we’re on the same page," I say dryly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Get a private investigator to track down whoever might have left her, and order a DNA test—something I hope you’ll help me with?"

I stalk back to the bedroom and peer in the direction of the infant, making sure she’s still asleep.

"Me?" he asks cautiously.

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