Page 94 of Bountiful
I snorted and pulled her closer. “Nice try. Bess can use her imagination. You don’t really want me to leave,anyway.”
“Says who?” shechallenged.
“Says the marks all over my back. A few minutes ago you were clinging to me like that girl on theTitanic.”
“YouwatchedTitanic?” She poked me in the chest. “Big tough guylikeyou?”
“Bess made me,”Ilied.
Zara laughed out loud, and I loved the soundofit.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
David
Iwokeup to a kiss from Zara on the side of my face. “I have to go bake scones,”shesaid.
“Okay,” I mumbled, pressing my eyelids closed, trying to remainunconscious.
“Nicole will wake up in about an hour. Here’s the monitor.” I opened one eye to see that she’d placed a plastic device on her empty pillow. “When you hear her cry, will you get her out ofthecrib?”
“Of course,” I slurred. Did she think I would just let thebabycry?
“When she’s up, you can either go upstairs and knock on Alec’s door—he’ll take care of her. That’s usually his shift. Or, if you’d rather do it yourself, I left you a note on the kitchencounter.”
“I’ll handle it.” Even in my sleep haze, I knew I’d never ask Alec for help. Fuck thatnoise.
“Fine.” She kissed my cheek one more time. “I’ll leave my phone on. Text me if you have anyissues.”
“Sure.”
She stood up to go, but I caught her wrist. “Youdoingokay?”
“Yeah.” Zara gave me half a smile. “I’m all right. I do have to get moving,though.”
“Okay, gorgeous.” I rolled onto my back and stretched. “I’m just going to lie around naked in your bed for a while, wishing youwerehere.”
That won me a full smile. But then she gave me a little wave and disappeared. I heard the door click shut a momentlater.
On any other day, I would’ve fallen right back to sleep. But suddenlyIwas the responsible adult in the house. Given that, the best that I could manage was a light doze for thenexthour.
When the squawk finally came, it was so loud that I didn’t even need the monitor. I heard Nicole in stereo and sat right up to look around for my boxers. “Kap-Pah-Dis!” she demanded as I struggled into my underwear and then hurried intoherroom.
When I got there, I found her standing on the crib mattress, her hands wrapped around the slats, like a jailed criminal rattling the bars of his cage. When she spotted me in the doorway, her eyes narrowed. Clearly I was not the personnel she’dexpected.
“Hey,” I said, my voice scratchy. “How you doingtoday?”
She babbled an answer that I’m pretty sure would translate to:I’d be doing a whole lot better if you got me out of this cage,dummy.
When I approached the crib, she lifted her chubby arms toward me. And I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t affect me—that simple motion oftrust.
“All right,” I said, lifting her to my chest. “Let’s figure out this diaperthing.”
And there was really nothing to it. I unsnapped her baby PJs. Then I removed her heavy, wet diaper and threw it away. Zara had all the fresh ones in a stack beside the changing pad, so ten seconds and a couple of tapes later we were done and onourway.
But I did have one problem. I hadn’t stopped by the bathroom myself, and now I was dancing a jig. I carried her into the bathroom. “Avert your eyes,” I said pointlessly, peeing one-handed and then flushing. Then I washedonehand.
Zara must do everything one-handed.Huh.
