Page 84 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
So far, so good! They’d successfully moved the baby from point A to point B.
The next challenge: filling him up with formula.
With the ease of a man who’s done a bazillion squats, Jordan lowered himself, inch by inch, positioning the baby into her arms.
“And three, two, one. We have infant touchdown,” he said through a sweet smile.
Yep, they were NASA-level baby passers.
The boy wiggled in her arms, then smacked his lips. She took a breath as Jordan handed her the bottle.
Real baby. Real bottle.
“I’m going in,” she said, then brushed the bottle’s nipple across his lips.
“Easy,” Jordan cautioned.
“And contact,” she whispered as the baby stopped dropping raspberries and started sucking the hell out of his dinner.
“Wow, he’s a total pro, and with all those raspberries, he probably could play the trumpet,” Jordan offered, pulling over an ottoman and sitting down to watch Oliver down eight ounces of formula as if he’d just finished a baby Iron Man.
Shrouded in the dim light and surrounded by stuffed animals, she leaned down and smelled Ollie’s head.
“He smells like spring rain.”
Jordan rested his hand on her knee and rubbed gentle circles with his thumb. “I wouldn’t know. All I’ve been able to smell for the last few months is pineapple from those dryer sheets,” he teased.
She gazed down at the boy. “He’s precious, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he sure is.”
She pulled her gaze away from the child and met her husband’s eye. “Do you have a preference?”
“For what?”
“For us. Do you think we’ll have a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t think of our baby like that,” he said as the light played off his dark tangle of hair.
“I hate to break it to you, but babies don’t come out gender-neutral like our Faby,” she answered, but Jordan wasn’t trying to be funny or evasive.
His expression grew pensive. “I don’t mean it like that. I think of our baby more like a part of us. No matter if it’s a boy or a girl, we’ll be a family, and this baby will be our everything.”
She blinked back tears.
“Are you all right? Are you hungry? Do you need to eat some pineapple? I’ve got five cans in the back of the car—in case of a pineapple emergency.”
She sniffled, overcome with emotion. “No, it’s not a pineapple emergency.”
“Then what?” he whispered.
“That might be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said. And when I met you, you were such an asshat,” she answered on a teary exhale.
He cupped her face in his warm hand. “I love you, too, messy bun girl.”
Ollie turned his head from side to side, and she pulled the bottle back and handed it to Jordan. She rocked back and forth, inhaling the baby’s sweet scent. He released a lazy sigh before closing his eyes—so trusting and so innocent. She stared at his little nose and his delicate eyelashes, resting on porcelain cheeks, and all her worries about her mother’s reaction melted away. She’d been consumed with anxiety, wondering if she had what it took to be a mom, worrying she couldn’t do it all.
She stopped rocking and watched the baby sleep in her arms.
