Page 29 of One Pucking Life

“Yeah. Of course. And no problem.” I nod—probably a little too quickly.

“Okay. Well, let me know if you ever need anything.”

I know exactly what I need—but unfortunately, Max won’t be the one supplying it.

That job tonight belongs to a battery-operated, phallic-shaped piece of rubber.

“Sure,” I say, giving him a quick wave before scampering off to my room, where I’m sure to be severely underwhelmed—even on the top setting.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

MAX

Holding Caroline to my chest, I pace the living room floor as she screams at full volume.

“Shh,” I murmur, patting her back. “You’re okay, baby girl.”

Of course she woke up the second Delaney slipped off for a bath. I brought Caroline downstairs, hoping to keep the chaos contained, wanting—needing—Delaney to have a few minutes of peace. She’s done everything for us these past few weeks. The least I can do is let her soak in the tub without a crying baby in the background.

I hope she has her headphones in and some calming music playing. Otherwise, she’ll hear this and come running.

Caroline lets out another wail, this one sharper and higher-pitched. For someone so small, she has some insane lung capacity.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, bouncing her in a rhythm I’ve seen Delaney use. It doesn’t work—not even a little. If anything, she’s getting louder.

I press my palm to her forehead, and she feels hot. Is this a fever? Or is she just sweaty from the crying? I can’t tell.

God, I don’t know.

The only thing keeping me from completely unraveling is the knowledge that Delaney will be out soon. She always knows what to do. She says I overpay her, but I swear—whatever I’m paying, it’s not enough. I can’t imagine what my life would look like without her. Probably something like this moment... just constant noise and panic and confusion on a loop.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. A month ago, I wouldn’t have recognized the man I am now. But then, a moment like this slams into me and reminds me just how far I still have to go.

I love this little girl more than I knew was possible. But sometimes I hear this quiet voice in the back of my head—one that questions everything. The one that wonders if I’m enough. What if this isn’t the best life for her? What if keeping her was selfish? Monique had chosen the most incredible adoptive family, and I took that from her.

Am I really the best choice for her? Because right now, she’s in distress, and I can’t fix it. If her cries were words, I’m afraid they’d be saying exactly that—I’m not enough.

I press my lips to her damp forehead. Her hair’s soaked with sweat. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists tight against my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m trying. I just… I don’t know what you need.”

She’s dry. She won’t take a bottle. Swaying, bouncing, back-patting—it’s all worthless.

I hold her tighter and continue to move back and forth.

Delaney appears like a goddess in a silk pajama set, and just the sight of her calms my internal panic. Her skin is fresh and dewy from the bath, her damp hair twisted into a messy bun on top of her head. I inhale the soft sweetness of her fruity body wash as she approaches, grounding me instantly.

She’s holding a plastic syringe filled with orange liquid.

“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward it.

“Tylenol,” she says, pressing the back of her hand to Caroline’s forehead. She nods once. “Yeah, she has a fever.” Without hesitation, she squirts the medicine into Caroline’s mouth.

Before I can respond, she’s gone—only for a second—then returns with a folded washcloth in her hand. She takes Caroline from me effortlessly, holding her close while gently pressing the cloth against the side of her head and whispering to her in that soft, soothing voice that always works.

“Shh. Shh.” She sways side to side. Like clockwork, Caroline starts to settle. Her cries taper into soft whimpers.

“What’s that for?” I gesture to the cloth.

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