Page 19 of Love Notes & Lifelines
“Sure. And Emmy?”
She doesn’t answer, but I hear her sniffles.
“You’re going to be just fine, okay? I know you will. Your Uncle Beck Daddy will keep you safe. Try to get some sleep, okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
It’s quiet. Ruby’s no longer crying.
“Beck?” I murmur when the silence of dead air takes up my entire living room.
“Yeah?” he whispers back.
“The song is by Taylor Swift. It’s called ‘Never Grow Up.’ Did the baby fall asleep?”
“Finally,” he sighs. “This is hard, Jane.”
“You’ve got this. Where did you put the baby?” Visions of her rolling off a bed have my heart racing.
“In some foldable crib thing that took four YouTube videos to set up.”
I laugh softly. “That’s great. You’re doing a good job. Once you get through the adjustment period, it’ll be smooth sailing. How about you put that song on for Emmy, and I’ll hang on the line until she’s asleep in case you have any other questions.”
Careful, Stella. Geez. I don’t offer this to other dads. And this is why I could never be a double agent—I get too invested and I have a big mouth.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” Exhaustion bleeds from his tone, and it makes me a little weepy.
There’s a rustling sound, and someone yawns.
“Oh, Beck?” I whisper.
“Huh?” Poor guy. I think I startled him.
“Are you putting Emmy to bed in the same room as her sister?”
“Night-night,” she says, but it’s garbled. Hopefully that means she’s drifting off.
“No, I have plenty of guest rooms,” he says.
“That’s not my point.” We’re both whispering like a nun at church is about to catch us. “They’ll probably sleep better if they’re together. There’s been so much upheaval, I mean, I’m guessing, since you said you were new to this. They need all the comfort they can get.”
“Hmm. Do you want to sleep in Ruby’s room, lovebug?”
His endearment is surprisingly sweet and totally unexpected.
“Mm-hmm,” Emmy says followed by a yawn that probably swallows her entire face.
“Good night, lovebug,” he whispers. A few seconds pass and then Emmy’s song plays in the background.
“Crap,” I whisper-yell. “Did you put a nightlight in that room?”
“I did,” he says, and I can almost picture the pride beaming from his face.
“Good. That’s good. What are you doing now?” Did that sound dirty? Oh, God. I hope it wasn’t dirty. All this time drooling over my boss and now we’re speaking intimately late at night. It’s a terrible, terrible idea and I’m going straight to hell for it.
“Honestly?” I make a sound for him to continue while chewing my lip raw. “I’m sitting outside their door wondering what the fuck I’m doing.”
“You’ll get the hang of it.” I’m not whispering, but my voice is low, cozy, comfortable. “My first suggestion is to make an appointment with their doctor if they have one. If not, find one near you. They’ll be able to give you a crash course in childsafety. In the meantime, pick up a baby book or two. They’re very helpful.”
