4. Noah
Chapter 4
Noah
T ess was the best baby. Maybe I didn’t have any basis for comparison, but in my bones, I knew she was exceptional.
But no one was perfect, and she had one teeny-tiny flaw.
She wanted to be held all the time.
Like twenty-four hours a day.
And here’s the thing. I indulged her.
After all she’d been through, the thought of putting her down alone in her crib gutted me. I couldn’t ignore her sad little cry when she needed comfort.
I owed her love and safety. So I started babywearing. I picked up a variety of carriers and wraps, and thanks to mom content on YouTube, I got pretty good at tying them up. We had wraps and carriers for every occasion and temperature, and my collection hung neatly on a rack I’d built by the door.
She preferred to nap on me. So I’d wrap her up and let her sleep while I folded laundry or made dinner. I discovered that fresh air soothed her, so we’d go for evening hikes and she’d fall asleep along the way.
When she woke up at night, I’d walk around, rocking and snuggling her, feeding her when she was smaller. She’d nuzzle into my neck and go back to sleep in her crib for a bit.
But the cross-country move had shaken us both up.
The girl had always wanted to be held, but now that desire was constant.
I’d worked hard to make her comfortable and happy in our new apartment. It was technically a two-bedroom, but the second was a glorified closet.
So I took the tiny one for myself, cramming a twin bed I picked up from my mom into it, and gave Tess the big room. I turned it into a nursery, equipped with a glider, humidifier, a sound machine, and the butterfly mobile she loved to stare at as she drifted off—at least while we were in California.
Since the move, it wasn’t enough. The crib she’d slept in for months now repulsed her. The only place she wanted to be was in my arms. At ten months old, she could scream her lungs out when she felt like it. So, in the interest of survival, I’d hold her and walk circles around the apartment.
As long as I kept moving and kept her close, she’d sleep.
It wasn’t sustainable, but I had no idea what else to do.
I’d put on a podcast and roam around, feeling her little heart beat against my chest. When I thought I might pass out from exhaustion, I’d press my lips to her head and inhale her baby smell and keep going.
It was after one when a knock sounded on the door. I was so caught up in the classical music I was listening to, I wasn’t sure I’d actually heard it. But the second time, there was no denying it.
I removed my headphones and unlocked the door. Through a couple of inches I’d pulled it open, I could make out a woman standing in the dark hallway. She was wearing athletic shorts and a thin tank top. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her lip was curled in annoyance.
“Victoria?”
She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. “Noah? You’re my obnoxiously loud new neighbor?”
I pointed at Tess, who was starting to stir now that I’d stopped walking.
With a shake of her head, Victoria pushed herself into the apartment. “Give me the baby.”
I resumed my pacing, following the path I’d created in my mind. “Nah, we’re good.”
“Bullshit. If that poor kid isn’t wailing, then you’re stomping around like an elephant. What’s going on? Is she sick?”
With a huff, I glared at her. I was hardly an elephant.
“I can hear everything that happens up here. Damn old buildings and shoddy HVAC.” She looked me up and down. “And you’re not a small guy, so you make noise when you pace.” Shrugging, she shut the door behind her.
Okay, then. I guess this was now a social visit.
“You live downstairs,” I murmured, still moving around in the dimly lit living room–slash–dining room. The space was small and open to the kitchen, but the apartment was clean and had a lot of windows.
Maybe it was egocentric of me, but I hadn’t considered the person who may live below me. I was flailing, and though Lovewell was a life raft in a storm, I was still trying to steady myself.
I turned to face her. In the dim light, in the middle of the night, and without makeup, the woman was beautiful. At the coffee shop yesterday morning, she’d looked mature and businesslike. But right now, in my living room, she looked like the girl I remembered. Kind and friendly, with a hint of sass.
“I’m sorry we woke you.” A wave of exhaustion rolled over me. If she could really hear the hours of pacing I’d done, I could only imagine she was as tired as I was. “We’re having some trouble adjusting to our new routine. And I’m so damn tired.”
“Can I help?”
The question was a simple one, but the answer was incredibly complex.
“Thanks, but we’re good. I’ll walk more softly.”
Head tilted, she assessed me. “You haven’t sleep trained.”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I gritted out, the words causing Tess to stir, “but no, and I’m not gonna.” With that, I turned and padded toward the window.
“Okay.” She appeared beside me and stroked Tess’s back. “I’m not judging. I couldn’t let a baby scream either.”
I looked at her kind, concerned face and let out a sigh. “She’s not my biological daughter.” The last thing I wanted to do was explain all the details. “I’m her guardian. Well,I was appointed her legal guardian, and now I’m midway through the process of adopting her. It’s complicated.”
She nodded, saying nothing, just rubbing soft circles on Tess’s back. She looked up at me. “You’re a natural,” she said softly.
For reasons unknown, those words were exactly what I needed in that moment.
“Thank you.”
My body lit up in an unfamiliar way at her proximity, but I pushed the sensation down.
“She’s beautiful,”she said, her voice soft.
With a whimper, Tess picked her head up off my shoulder. But a second later, she burrowed into me again, never opening her eyes. “How old?”
“Ten months,” I said. “She’s a peanut.”
“May I hold her?” She extended her arms. “I can walk a few laps for you.”
A pang of guilt hit me. It was two a.m.
I could barely stand, and I’d known this woman basically all my life. Though not well, admittedly. Either way, she didn’t look like a kidnapper or a predator. And I’d be right here if she wanted to hold her. What was the harm?
I unwrapped the long piece of fabric holding Tess to my chest and handed her over gently. She stirred, letting out a small cry. Heart in my throat, I was ready to pull her back in, but before I could, Victoria brought her to her chest, bouncing and swaying like a professional.
She walked slowly, speaking softly, and Tess eased her head onto my neighbor’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
My baby girl wasn’t used to being held by anyone but me. It had even taken time for her to warm up to my mom, who was an absolute pro. As I watched this easy interaction, I couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed.
That emotion vanished quickly, though, when I took a moment to really look at the two of them.
With Tess in her arms, Vic transformed. Her eyes softened, and so did her tone, as she glided around my apartment. She wasn’t angry or impatient, despite how late it was.
“Don’t just stare at me,” she hissed, keeping her voice low. “Sleep.”
“But—”
She shook her head. “Lie on the couch and close your eyes for an hour. I’ll keep her asleep. You clearly need rest.”
The gnawing guilt was back. “But what about you?”
“I don’t sleep much.” She waved me off, then resumed gently rubbing Tess’s back. “Sleep.”
Dubious, I stretched out on the small couch. My legs hung over one of the arms, but I was too tired to care. I’d slept in far more uncomfortable places. This was one of my superpowers. The ability to sleep anywhere and function on nothing more than a power nap.
So I lay there, watching the scene in front of me. Terrified to close my eyes.
But I didn’t have a choice. My brain was barely functioning. Would it really do any harm to drift off for a few minutes?
We were in my apartment. Tess was happily asleep. And I knew this woman. I’d just close my eyes for a little bit.
I woke to the sound of baby giggles, wondering if I’d dreamed the middle-of-the-night encounter. Surely Victoria Randolph hadn’t actually come to my door at one a.m. to hold my baby like a ponytailed superhero.
I cracked one eye open and was instantly blinded by the sunlight streaming through the large window.
My head felt heavy and my back ached. I’d woken up more comfortably after spending a night sleeping on the ground.
Using more effort than should be necessary, I lifted my arm to check my watch. Seven.
I shot up, my heart plummeting. Tess. Shit.
I hadn’t managed to make it to my feet before I saw them.
Tess in her highchair, dressed and giggling as Vic made silly faces and fed her from a baby food container.
Tess clapped and signed for more as Vic slowly scooped another spoonful for her.
With a heavy sigh, I slumped back down on the couch.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Vic said, holding the spoon aloft and moving it like it was an airplane.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I craned forward and rubbed my temples. “I’m so sorry.”
God, how could I have been out for so long? And how could I sleep so deeply that I hadn’t heard anything while Vic clearly dressed my daughter and then got her set up for breakfast?
“No need to apologize. Obviously, you needed the sleep. I tried to wake you to ask about the feeding schedule early this morning, but you mumbled about Frozen and rolled over.”
Finally standing, I shuffled to the coffee maker. Blessedly, the carafe was already full.
A wave of gratitude washed over me, but it was quickly replaced with embarrassment. I was supposed to be better at this. I’d been a single dad for months now.
After pouring a generous cup and taking a few sips of the scalding liquid in hopes of jump-starting my brain, I dropped a kiss to my little girl’s head.
“Da. Da,” she shouted, giving me a gummy smile.
Nothing had ever sounded better than that. Knowing she saw me, that I made her smile, that she wanted my attention, lifted my heart every damn time.
“Da.” With a giggle, she pointed one finger at the corner of her mouth and scrunched it up.
I gave her a smile and kept my tone easy. “What’s the magic word?”
Blinking up at me, she rubbed her chest, the sign for “please.”
I opened the cabinet and retrieved the Cheerios she’d asked for, then put a handful on the tray of her highchair.
“She signs,” I explained to Vic. “This one.” I demonstrated the first sign she’d given me. “Is for cereal, or any kind of finger food. She’s not picky.”
“That’s incredible.” Vic’s whole face was lit up. “Is she some kind of baby genius?”
A chuckle escaped me, and maybe my chest puffed up a little. It was as if this woman knew exactly what to say to me. I turned to her, noticing then that she was wearing a faded blue Lake Tahoe sweatshirt. My sweatshirt.
My chest went from expanded to tight in an instant. Damn, she looked cute in it. It had been a long, long time since a woman had borrowed my clothes.
With a grunt, Tess signed for more.
I scooped another handful from the box and dumped it on her tray. “While I am certain she is a super genius.” I gave my little girl a wink. “Baby sign language is relatively common. I watched a few YouTube videos, then a few more, and got pretty into it.”
Vic looked from the baby to me and back again, her eyes swimming with wonderment. “But she’s telling you what she wants.”
“Yup.” I put the box away and went back to my coffee. “I started signing to her at three months old, and she was signing back around eight months. I wanted to create a secure bond between us, and I hoped—I still do—that she’d feel confident that I could meet her needs.”
Vic stared at me for a long moment, then shook her head. I couldn’t tell whether she was impressed or weirded out.
“Thank you,” I said. “For feeding her.”
She shrugged. “We had a great time together. Didn’t we?”
Gurgling, Tess smacked her fists on the tray of her highchair. Obviously, she was delighted by Vic, even though she’d only met her last night.
The whole thing was surreal. After being on our own for many months,this new person was here, doing the things I should be doing.
And I barely knew her.
My hackles rose, my protective dad instincts taking over.
But then my beautiful baby girl babbled, garnering my attention, and I willed myself to relax. I’d spent so much of my life playing defense against an invisible enemy. All because I let myself be controlled by my insecurities.
These days, I was determined to do better. For my girl.
“You must be exhausted,” I said.
Vic shook her head. “Nah. I have insomnia. Slept a few hours before I came up here.”
My stomach twisted. “Insomnia? That’s rough.”
She held a spoonful of pears out to Tess, which she gobbled up. “Eh. It’s fine. Since my divorce, I can’t sleep.”
That’s right. My mother had mentioned a divorce.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Her back went ramrod straight, and she turned, giving me a withering look. “No. I definitely do not want to talk about it.”
Noted.
“I figured I’d offer, since we’re friends now.”
She barked out a laugh. “We’re not friends. Tess and me? We’re friends. You’re the guy who snores on the couch.”
Ouch.
Though she was still facing Tess, I caught the way her lips quirked. Vic was a little sarcastic. I liked that.
“Tess has never complained.”
“Because you never taught her the sign for ‘Dad, you snore like a chainsaw.’ If you had, I bet she’d be furiously signing it every night. Poor baby would get an elbow injury from all the sign language.”
Hands held up in defeat, I laughed. “Okay, okay. Maybe I do snore. Sorry about that. It was the couch. But thank you again. I had no idea how badly I needed to sleep.”
“I can stay a bit longer,” Vic offered. “If you want to shower, or, I don’t know, brush your teeth?”
Face heating, I slapped a hand over my mouth. Gross. I had become the cautionary parent tale, having no time to shower or brush my own damn teeth.
I jumped up. “Good idea. I’ll be back in five.”
“Make it ten,” she shouted over her shoulder.