Page 12 of Rock the Cradle of Love
Emma squawks loudly. Noah startles a little and Taylor jerks harshly. He’s awake immediately, Noah can tell.
Taylor rolls away with a “shit; sorry, man” although he doesn’t get out of bed.
Noah inexplicably feels bereft. He rolls to his back and looks at Taylor, also on his back with an arm thrown across his eyes. “It’s fine. Honestly.”
Emma’s fussing turns into a cry, and Noah is forced to leave the warm cocoon of his bed. A soft brush of disappointment paints him. Lying there, enjoying someone’s company and warmth, seems like such a lovely thing to do for longer than a moment.
“Emma, my love,” he says, lifting her gently from her bed. All other thoughts flee when the stench hits him, and he wrinkles his nose. “Girl, whoo, you’re stinky.”
Emma squirms and frets.
Taylor chuckles from the bed. The rustle of bedclothes indicates he too is getting up. “How about I work on breakfast for all three of us while you take care of Pretty Pretty Princess?”
“Deal.”
By the time Emma has a clean diaper and a fresh outfit on, the scent of strong coffee lures Noah into the kitchen. A bowl of fluffy yellow eggs sits beside a large stack of buttered whole grain toast. A bottle, a bowl of rice cereal, and a tiny jar of strained pears rounds out the food offering. The table is set for two, and Emma’s brand new high chair is in place.
Between this morning’s inadvertent cuddle session and sharing breakfast, things feel awful domestic, and a warm glow of contentment, of want, settles into Noah’s gut. But that’s crazy, right? Because he and Taylor are just friends, despite sharing a bed last night. “Looks and smells awesome, Taylor. Thanks,” he says, trying to keep things normal.
Taylor grunts into a large mug of coffee. That’s definitely normal, as Noah has come to find out over the last week. He puts Emma in her chair and takes a seat across from Taylor. He spoons some cereal into her mouth, before dishing up his own breakfast.
Taylor looks soft and half asleep, and a rush of affection fills Noah. Is it weird for Noah to want to send Taylor back to bed and climb in after him? It’s not like it’s cold or anything, but being close to someone like that, now that he’s had a taste of it, seems nice.
“Noah.”
Noah’s eyes dart to Taylor’s. “What?” He’s obviously asked something Noah missed while he mused.
“Did you sleep well?”
Heat blooms up his neck considering where his brain just was. “Oh, yeah. Fine. You?”
Taylor nods and his mouth quirks up on one side. “Haven’t slept that good in a while, to be honest. I hope my crossing any boundaries doesn’t break some kind of bro code. I just…I’m a cuddler, as you found out, and I’ve been a too little busy for the past, oh, four months making a run for the Cup to think about a hookup, much less have time to nurture a relationship.”
“Uh…no. No, it’s fine. You were asleep, right?” Another rush of heat creeps across his shoulders and he shrugs them. As if he could slough off his lack of chill as if it were a blanket or something.
“I was asleep.” Taylor nods, looking somehow sheepish, for all his usual bravado. He takes another swig of coffee and shoves a bite of toast-and-egg taco into his mouth. “Oh,” he says upon swallowing, “and don’t forget, we have to make arrangements for Emma for this week.”
As if Emma’s his responsibility too. But his use of “we” endears him to Noah even more. If Taylor hadn’t had his back this week, Noah’s not sure what he would have done.
Chapter Five
Tuesday morning is a crazy rush of Noah trying to get himself ready, in between trying to get Emma changed, fed, and also ready for the day. Guilt and sadness sit like a bucket of pucks in his stomach. They’ve established somewhat of a routine, one that soothes Noah as much as it seems to suit Emma. And now he’s going to leave her in a stranger’s care for the better part of six hours, and he feels sick. Also worried. Not about Emma, though. Latte’s wife, Daphne, is awesome. But he’s never had to prep Emma for a day without him or away from home. He has no idea what to pack.
In the end, he fills the truck with her swing and her stroller and a small suitcase of clothes as well as a box of formula and food. Emma burbles happily on the drive while Noah’s stomach churns the whole way.
The Coffeys’ home is in the middle of a regular old suburban housing development. It’s nowhere near the size of Modano’s, no—Seguin’smansion over in Preston Hollow. It’s small and cozy in comparison, even though Latte could have easily afforded something twice, if not three times, its size. It’s got a brick front, as most houses in Texas do, and lots of large shiny windows. The small front yard is wild and overgrown with wildflowers. By design he thinks. There’s still a certain symmetry to it all.
As he kisses Emma one last time, a lump forms in his throat. It’s silly really. They’ve only been a family for a week, but the thought of leaving her is carving a hollow in his chest. In his head, he knows she’ll be fine, and he really doesn’t have a choice. He hands Daphne several twenties. “In case I forgot something important.”
She smiles softly. “We’ll be fine, Dad. You have my cell number and I have yours. How about if I send updates every so often, huh?”
A relieved breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he nods. “Would you? God, I’m such a sap. But that would be great. Thank you.”
Daphne pushes him toward the door with a kind smile. “Now, go, before you’re late.”
At the car door, Noah looks back. Daphne and Emma are on the porch and Daphne is waving Emma’s little arm. His chest is tight like when he’s congested, but he has to go and Emma will be fine. Right. With a nod and wave, he gets in the car and heads for the barn.
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