Page 31 of Coast

How had a playard appeared?

I shot upward, kicking the recliner closed and rushing toward the crib. Only to find it empty.

“Lainey,” I whimpered, turning toward the door only to have it push inward.

And there was a pretty woman in a flowing floral skirt with an abundance of beads at her wrists and what looked like a smudge of paint across her white tank top.

Lainey was nestled in her arm.

“Oh, hey, Mama,” she whispered, giving me a huge smile. “Sorry, I meant to have her back before you woke up.”

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice tight.

“That’s Jade,” Coast said, coming up behind her with a platter in his hands. “Levee’s woman. She likes babies. Stole Lainey from me as soon as we made our way downstairs for a bottle.”

“What… what time is it?” I asked, my mind still sleep-foggy.

“Little after seven,” Jade said.

“Seven? In the morning?”

What time had I passed out? Ten? Maybe even earlier.

I’d slept for over eight straight hours?

“Did Lainey cry?” I asked, my stomach twisting at the idea of not being there for her.

“She knocked out until just about half an hour ago.”

“When I stole her, gave her a quick change, and convinced Coast to let me feed her. I love babies. I want a million of them. And yours is a complete angel.”

“She is,” I agreed as Jade walked over toward the playard to gently place her down. “Okay. I’ll leave you guys alone. But if you ever—ever—need a babysitter, Coast can give you my number. For free. I would pay you,” she added with a little laugh.

“Think she might actually mean that. About paying you,” Coast said, coming in and kicking the door closed. “Got you some breakfast.”

“You… what?”

“Breakfast,” he repeated. “Eggs, pancakes, sausage. Breakfast shit. And a coffee. Figure you gotta drink it as a single mom.”

“I think I’m half coffee at this point,” I agreed.

“This is, unfortunately, take-out. Normally, Eddie cooks for us. And it’s always banging. But he’s sick, so we’re stuck with the local chain place. It’s alright.”

“I… you didn’t have to get me food.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked. “If you’re here, you eat,” he added, putting the tray down on the end of the bed.

I actually still felt stuffed from all that pizza. But the scent of syrup had my belly rumbling regardless.

“Okay. Thanks,” I said, taking the tray over to the recliner with me. “I can’t believe Lainey slept that long. She never goes more than four or five hours.”

“She got a little fussy two hours before she woke up. Fished the pacifier out of the bag and she settled right back down. Your dark circles look better already.”

“I don’t remember the last time I got eight hours of sleep.”

“I know a thing or two about not sleeping,” he said, fishing one of the sausage links off my plate. “But the body’s gotta catch up here or there.”

“Apparently,” I agreed, cutting into my pancakes after pouring the syrup over them.

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