Page 63 of Bountiful
Gripping myself, I pictured spilling into Zara, planting my seed inside her as we slowly kissed, coming down from the high we’d given eachother.
I took my hand away and wondered what the fuck I was thinking. We’d made a baby, and I shouldn’t find that sexy at all. It was irresponsible. It was exactly the thing I’d never meanttodo.
What the hell was wrongwithme?
“Is that what you’re wearing?”Castro asked me when I came downstairs a couple hours later, freshly showered andshaved.
I glanced down at my khakis and oxford shirt. “What’s wrong with it?” I thought Ilookedfine.
“Where’s the body armor?” He cracked up at hisownjoke.
“You’re hilarious.” I grabbed a banana off the kitchen counter andpeeledit.
“Need a last minute pep talk? I think I should show you how to change adiaper.”
“Why? I’m not babysitting. Her whole family will bethere.”
“It’s not babysitting if it’s your own kid,” Castro pointed out. “Besides, I thought you wanted to make a statement that you can handle whatever gets thrown at you. Even if it’s a poopydiaper.”
My reluctance to be someone’s daddy hadnothingto do with diapers and everything to do with my pessimistic attitude. “The only point I want to make to her family is that I’m not afraid to show up and look ’em in the eye. But I’m not anyone’s idea of Mr. Family Man. I’m not going topretend.”
“Thing is, youarea family man now. Whether you’re just a check in the mail, and not a show-up-every-Sunday kind of dad, you’re still in it forever. Just like I’m an uncle to my nephews forever, whether I’m a good oneornot.”
I scowled at him, because that was exactly what freaked me out. He’d just stated the problem in all its glory. “What is your point? I don’t think a diapering lesson is going to make me into a gooddaddy.”
“You gotta start somewhere. I learned, and I don’t haveakid.”
I ate the banana, getting grumpier by thesecond.
“Babies are so cool,” he said, oblivious to my discomfort. “They will laugh at anything. For some reason, my sister’s youngest thinks the top of my head is hysterical. All I have to do is lean over him and he grabs my hair andlaughs.”
It wouldn’t be nice of me to wonder aloud if that was normal,right?
“And he’ll, like, fall asleep anywhere. Even sitting up, with a toy inhishand.”
“Hmm,” I said, feigninginterest.
“The first time I saw him, it waslove,” Castro gushed. He spotted the look on my face. “I guess there’s one big difference, though. If my sister really needed me, I’d be there. But the truth is that he’s not really my baby. I can just hand ’im back if he cries. All I have to be is the fun uncle. So he’s real easy to love.” My teammate reached across the counter and squeezed my shoulder. “Give yourself time, D. We gotta get that deer-in-the-headlights look offyourface.”
Ifonly.
“So.” Castro clapped his hands. “Let’s talk about diapering. I’m gonna show you some skills. First you remove the old diaper. There are tapes that hold thediaperon.”
“Tapes?” A fragment of a memory floated up to the surface of my brain. “I thought there weresafetypins.”
“Pins? Hell no. Too dangerous. Welcome to the twenty-first century. The tape is the multiple-use kind, so after you roll that wet diaper up you can close it again. If there’s poop, you use baby wipes to clean it out of all thecrevices.”
“That sounds…alarming.”
He grinned. “Baby wipes are awesome. Once when Mario had a poopsplosion I used a half a box of them. You could clean up, like, organized crime with thosesuckers.”
“Goodtoknow.”
But he wasn’t done talking yet. “The dirty wipes go inside the messy diaper. Then you tape up the whole mess into a little poop grenade. Most moms have a diaper bin thing to throw them into. You know those hazmat wastebaskets in the doctor’s office?Likethat.”
“Right.” I eyed the clock with apointedlook.
“Now, always put something under the baby before you change her. A baby boy can whizright in your eyewhile you’re working, so you gotta stay nimble. But a girl just makes a puddle, Ithink.”
