Page 118 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Please drive safely, Celene.
Celene could only stare, heart pounding in her ears. Because Nadine had been right—Celenehadchanged. Not into someone perfect, who handled leaving the summer house with grace, but into someone who hadn’t turned cruel or argumentative, not even angry.
Skye offered to rearrange her busy life. She’d wanted to make the trip.
This was bigger than a fumbled reality word.
SheprioritizedCelene.
Swallowing hard, Celene closed out of her messages. Eluding to marriage and confessing love had nothing on this, as she’d experienced them. However, having priority in another person’s eyes?
Celene sought distraction in Shanice’s evening routine document and found it. Six pages of it.
Ajay dropped Elise off fifty minutes later. Upon arrival, Elise slammed the door too loudly, and Theo wiggled to his stomach, opening his big, dark eyes. Already grizzling.
While waking their brother ticked at Celene’s temper, Elise brought food for them. An acceptable trade-off since Theo demanded two adults’-worth of attention.
Shanice left an adamant passage on baby-led weaning, aka cringing through Theo mashing steamed zucchini, full-fat yogurt, and banana into his mouth successfully half of the time. The other half went all over the table and floor, and he evenflung a fistful into Elise’s white shirt. She screamed like the drama queen she was, but Theo put her scream to shame.
Theo not only took after Byron facially; he babbled like he owned the place. Babbling through the bath time that should’ve taken them fifteen to twenty minutesin theory. They’d spent an hour on that, after which they took turns massaging him at Shanice’s request, “to promote digestion.” Celene and Elise squabbled over what counted as “too hot” milk after figuring out the bottle warming contraption and managed to spill the rest of the breastmilk packet onto their laps. All three of them screamed about that one.
Celene and Elise also changed diapers. Both encounters had been messy; they’d never seen urine fly so far.
By 9:38 p.m., a whopping two-and-a-half hours after his supposed bedtime, Elise passed Theo off to Celene with a whine. “Your turn.”
The color-changing nightlight and ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ playing from the mobile were designed to induce sleepytime. Celene even yawned. Then, she held Theo in her outstretched arms, and his alert eyes stared back at her. “Please sleep.”
He babbled defiantly. To the effect of‘hell no, ancient sister.’
Celene heaved him into a not-quite-right patting position as she drifted from one end of the dim nursery to the other, humming. Theo wobbled and fussed more.
Elise groaned from the glider, swaying herself. “Ugh, he hates you.”
“Shut up.” Celene tried a new angle for Theo; she swore she’d find a decent rocking technique. “He smiles at me.”
“Because you smell like Shanice’s boob milk.”
Celene pursed away a smile. Kind of funny. “Is Shanice still texting you?”
“Not since twenty minutes ago, when I assured her he’s still alive and kicking our asses.” Elise gathered a purple stuffed bunny, stroking it on her lap like it were the real thing. “She linked me to a horrific video about SIDS. Maybe we can take shifts watching him breathe when he falls asleep.”
“Ifhe falls asleep.”
“Why isn’t there a sleep button on a baby?”
“Right? What more can Theo get into?” Out of exhaustion or humor—who knew—Celene pressed a pointer into Theo’s squishy thigh. He gently swiped her hand away. “I think that woke him up more.”
“This child-rearing thing is tiring. Does anyone ever mention how tiring it is?”
“Literally any mother we’ve ever met.”
“It’s hard as shit. Maybe Big J will agree to a hamster instead.”
Celene smirked at this, slowing in front of a four-frame set of abstract shape paintings. Appropriate for a children’s wall motif while maintaining what Shanice deemed a Midcentury Modern Soul household, replete with velvets and crisscrossing geometrics. The nursery hadn’t been skipped; the palette and toy aesthetics fit right in. Not to mention the velvet upholstery of the glider Elise cozied into. Byron left the design choices up to Shanice and paid for it all, as was his modus operandi.
“You have a cool home,” she whispered into Theo’s thick cheek. He smelled of the chamomile baby wash they’d overused.
It made her miss Yielding and her teapot.
