Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Damien
My staff welcomed me back with open arms. As I headed to my office, I saw Charlie leaning against the doorframe with a latte.
“There he is.” He patted my shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, my friend.”
“Thanks.” I set my briefcase down and collapsed into my chair. “Do you know what it’s like to be emotionally destroyed by a seven-pound human with dimples?”
Charlie tipped his latte cup to his lips. “I mean—not yet. But I do know what it’s like to be emotionally destroyed by a woman with dimples, so I assume it’s similar.” He smirked.
“Daisy smiled last night.”
“It was gas,” Charlie said.
“No. It was real. Willa and I videotaped it.” I picked up my phone and showed it to him. “I’ve watched that video at least ten times. At home, in the car, and in the elevator.”
“You okay, man?” His brow arched. “I think you’re in soft-era dad mode.”
“I can’t help it. She’s the love of my life.”
“Willa or Daisy?” he asked.
“Both.” I furrowed my brows. “Don’t tell the board about my soft mode.”
“I won’t, Daddy Blackwood.” A smirk crossed his lips. “I have a meeting to get to. I’ll talk to you later.”
* * *
The numbers on my computer screen were blurry, not because of a lack of sleep. On the outside, I was Damien Blackwood, CEO and ruthless negotiator, who just twenty minutes ago, closed a multi-million-dollar deal with an investor. On the inside, I was a mess, missing my two girls.
I minimized the baby cam app on my phone and resized it to the corner of my screen, turning the brightness down so nobody in the office would know I was watching my wife and daughter. I tapped it once to refresh the feed. Willa appeared on the screen, barefoot, wearing one of my hoodies and looking beautiful with the mess of a topknot on her head. She bounced Daisy while singing an off-key rendition of You Are My Sunshine . Daisy let out a high-pitched shriek, and her pacifier flew across the room.
“We are one Rice Krispies treat away from a meltdown, young lady,” Willa told her.
I chuckled.
“Dude, are you watching the baby cam?” Charlie asked, stepping into my office.
“She’s in her villain era right now,” I said.
Charlie walked over and looked at the screen. “Is Willa wearing your hoodie?”
“She steals all my clothes, and somehow, it makes me want to marry her all over again.”
“Ha. You are so whipped.” He laughed.
“She’s my wife, Charlie.”
“And you’re supposed to be working and letting Willa survive the day on her own. I know you. One wrong move and you’ll be out of here so fast and head home. Man, you used to be scary, Damien. Now, you’re just?—”
“I still am,” I said, refreshing the app again. “To everyone but my two girls.”
Willa looked directly into the baby cam. “I know you’re watching, you emotional bastard. I hope you’re enjoying your freedom. Bring home a dozen of those Italian chocolate chip cookies from that bakery I love. No, make it two dozen.”
I smiled. “Message received.” I exited out of the app.
I couldn’t wait to get home to my girls. Although the thought was kind of scary because I wasn’t sure what I’d be walking into. The elevator door opened, and I entered the foyer with caution. Silence. No crying. No wailing. Just pure silence.
I stepped into the living room, briefcase in one hand, and the other holding a box of Italian chocolate chip cookies.
“Willa?” I softly called out.
She ran into the living room and placed her hand over my mouth.
“She. Is. Asleep.”
“But the sun is still up,” I murmured through her hand.
“She’s in the bassinet. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know how long it’ll last. But she’s out cold.”
“I missed you.” I smiled, pressing my lips against hers.
“I missed you, too. I had a meltdown today because I couldn’t open the string cheese.”
I handed her the box of cookies. “I come bearing emotional support carbs.” I smirked.
“Marry me again,” she said.
“I wanted to, and you said no.”
We fell onto the couch, and I hooked my arm around her as she dug into the box of cookies.
“Man, my feet hurt today.” I leaned over and took off my shoes.
“Well, I love you, but I have zero sympathy. I’ve been bouncing a seven-pound dictator all day,” she said, shoving an entire cookie in her mouth.
“Fair enough. My sore feet can’t compete with that.”
“I also found spit up in my bra.”
“You actually wore one today? You haven’t since she was born.”
“I wanted to feel normal.” She sighed, grabbing another cookie.
“You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—mouthful of cookies and all.” I smiled.
“Shut up. I accidentally used a baby wipe to wash my face earlier. I thought it was one of my cleansing cloths.”
“Come on.” I stood from the couch and extended my hand. “I’m going to start the water, and you’re going to take a beautiful, uninterrupted, hot, relaxing bath with one of your bath bombs.”
“You’re my prince.” She smiled, taking my hand.
“I thought I was your king?”
“Oh yeah. That too.”
As I led her to the bedroom, she stopped me.
“Are you crazy? I can’t take a bath in our bathroom. It’ll wake the baby up.”
“You’re right. You go to one of the other bathrooms, and I’ll grab a bath bomb from ours.
I walked into the bathroom, grabbed the basket from the cabinet containing the different bath bombs, and grabbed the one labeled This Is My Alone Time, Don’t Ruin It.
Taking it to the other bathroom, I dropped it into the water. Willa climbed in and her body instantly relaxed.
“So, I’ve been thinking about something,” I said.
“You mean, you have room in your brain to actually think about something other than screaming babies, no sleep, and poopy diapers? It must be nice.”
“What if we considered hiring some help?”
“Like a nanny?” Willa stared at me as if I were crazy.
“Well, yes.”
“You want to pay a stranger to hold our baby? to rock our baby to sleep while I sit on the couch and scroll Instagram and TikTok like some washed-up has-been mom?”
“I mean—doesn’t that sound amazing?”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to outsource our child, Damien Blackwood.”
“I’m not trying to outsource her. I’m just saying that maybe we can get a little help so you can do things like shower, nap, and remember your own name and what day it is.”
“I’ll have you know that I remembered my name yesterday.”
“You cried when the dishwasher beeped and woke the baby up.”
“It was an aggressive beep. I think the dishwasher is breaking.”
“You’re breaking, and we need help.”
“You’re trying to replace me,” she said.
“Oh my God.” I chuckled. “I’m not trying to replace you, sweetheart. I’m protecting you.”
“You’re saying I’m unhinged and can’t take care of our daughter.”
“You’re wrong. You’re sleep deprived and delirious. You’re heroic, beautiful, and one burp cloth away from an emotional collapse.”
“Too late. Emotional collapse activated.”
I heard Daisy’s cries coming from the bedroom. “I’ll go get the little princess. Enjoy your bath.” I leaned over the tub and kissed her.
Walking over to the bassinet, I stared down at my daughter, flailing and crying. Scooping her up, I held her against my chest, and the sweet sound of silence filled my ears.
“God, I missed you so much, princess.” I swayed back and forth, my hand softly circling her back. Walking over to the bed, I climbed on and sat up against the headboard. “You look bigger than you did when I left this morning. Who told you to grow while I was gone?”
She made soft cooing noises. Bringing up my legs, I lay her in my lap and held her tiny hands.
“Okay, listen. I know you don’t speak English yet, or any language, really. But I need to say this. You’re only two weeks old and you’ve already wrecked me.”
She cooed, and it melted my heart.
“I thought I knew what love was. I thought I understood what it means to be afraid of losing something. And then you came along with your tiny socks, tiny diapers, and your uncontrollable bodily functions and eyes that look exactly like your mom’s. Some days, I’m terrified I’m going to mess this up. But I promise you that I won’t. Even when you’re fifteen and slam the door in my face, or you hate my rules and think I’m just some old man. I will always be here for you. No matter what.” I lifted her and rested my cheek against her soft head. “I’ll be your safe place, okay? You don’t ever have to be the strong one for me. I’ve got you, and I always will. And your mom? She’s everything and more. One day, you’ll look at her and think, ‘How did I get so lucky?’ And you’ll love her just as much as I do. But not too much, okay? She’s still mine, and I had her first. Like, yes, she’s yours now, but she was mine before she was Mom. And I’m just saying, I don’t want to lose my spot.”
“Wow. Are you jealous of our daughter?” Willa walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her.
“No. Oh my God, Willa. Why would you say that?”
“Because I just heard you emotionally negotiating your rank in the household with a two-week-old.”
“I was just saying?—”
“Jesus.” She laughed. “I married an emotionally unstable billionaire with a mommy-sharing complex.”
“Just remember, Willa. I was here first.” My brow arched.
“You are just too damn cute.” She leaned over and kissed me. “Since you’ve got this whole parenting thing down, I’m going to pour a glass of wine. If I don’t fall asleep on my way to the kitchen.”
“See, if we hire a nanny, you can do that nonstop all day.”
“I’ll think about it.” She walked out of the room.
“How about only part-time?” I shouted.