Page 32 of Raising Love
Leo was the quintessential handsome athlete: strong arms, broad shoulders, a chiseled chest. But his face? Perfect facial symmetry. That’s what made him an undeniable heartthrob. And yet, despite all that, I’d never seen him look as good as he did right now, holding Baby Love.
“There you go,” I said softly, unable to stop staring. “You got it.”
Leo’s eyes stayed on Baby Love. A small smile crept onto his lips as he watched the baby. “He smells good.”
“So good.” I giggled. “Meanwhile, I’m the one who smells like spit-up.”
Leo snickered but didn’t take his eyes off Baby Love. “He does look like Kendra.”
“Right?” I nodded.
“But the vibe is all Tyrell,” he added quietly.
It was the first time Leo had truly acknowledged Tyrell since this all began.
At the double funeral, he was solid as a rock—there for everyone, Tyrell’s mom included. For me, he stood strong as I watched them lower Kendra’s casket into the ground. Through all of it, I hadn’t seen him shed a single tear.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. There was something in the way Leo looked at Baby Love—so lost in the moment, his focus unwavering—that broke my heart a little. My eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Are you good?” I asked softly.
Leo sniffled faintly, bobbing his head. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I noticed around his eyes becoming red. Though my instinct was to ask more, I decided to leave it alone. When he was ready, he’d talk.
“Okay,” I said, pointing toward the door with my thumb. “I’m gonna take that shower.”
“Cool,” he said, refocusing on Baby Love.
“You good with him? You got it?”
Leo glanced up at me and smiled. A genuine one. “I got it, Ivy League. Go ‘head.”
I rolled my eyes, which made him chuckle.
I looked down at Baby Love to see he’d already drifted off.
“I can put him in his crib?—”
“He’s good,” Leo said, his eyes back on Baby Love. “Go on. Enjoy your shower.”
2 weeks later…
I lay face down on my bed, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress.
An itch on my back begged for attention, but I ignored it. Too tired to even scratch it.
Last night had been rough. Baby Love had been dealing with colic for the past week, and it only seemed to be getting worse.
The ringing of my phone on the nightstand interrupted my moment of stillness, and I groaned.
Lifting my head to see who was calling felt like too much effort.
The past few days had been grueling, but thankfully, I wasn’t doing it alone. Leo had stepped up. After that night when I’d handed Baby Love to him in desperation for a shower, Leo had been more present than ever.
He’d grown more confident with holding Baby Love, no longer as nervous or unsure.
We were finally finding our rhythm when colic hit.
