Chapter 12 Jude
TWELVE
JUDE
“How do I even make this?” I mutter, looking at the can of formula in my hands. I’ve read the directions ten times at this point, and I still don’t know if I understand what to do.
How warm should the water be? Do I microwave it or just use warm water from the sink?
Is the water from the sink even okay for her to drink?
I think it should be—I think I have a filtration system, but now my brain can’t seem to figure out if I’m even qualified to make my daughter—I still can’t believe I have one— a bottle of milk.
I glance at where Ava is lying on the floor and quickly realize I have nothing to contain her in.
All Karina gave me were diapers, clothes, the car seat, bottles, and formula.
I need so much, but before I can even begin to stock up on baby essentials, I need to feed my daughter.
For now, I laid out my nicest, softest blanket on the ground and tossed a bunch of throw pillows on top of it to lie her on.
She stays on there for the most part, but it seems like she’s close to rolling because she keeps kicking her legs up and attempting to turn over.
She hasn’t acted like she’s hungry at all, but I don’t know how often babies eat. She was dropped off about an hour ago, and I don’t know how long ago Karina fed her. It feels like she should be hungry soon. Now, if only I could figure out how to make a damn bottle.
I sigh, slipping my phone out of my pocket and calling Charlotte for what my call log says is the fifteenth time in the last hour.
I know she worked today, but if I remember her schedule correctly, she should have been off about an hour ago.
Every time I call, her phone goes straight to voicemail.
Either she’s blocked me, or her phone is dead.
I really hope it’s the latter, but there’s a small part of me that wonders if the events from last night got to her more than I was expecting.
I close my eyes for a moment, my grip tightening on the formula can. I got so swept up in Karina dropping a baby off at my doorstep that I haven’t even had time to think about what happened with Charlotte last night.
We almost kissed.
Technically, we did kiss. Our lips brushed against one another’s for the briefest, most perfect moment.
With my eyes closed, I vividly remember everything about that moment. Her smell, her taste, the sound of her labored breathing as she angled her body closer to mine in anticipation. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, doing everything I can to not remember it all.
I wanted more, and by the way she looked at me all night, it felt like she wanted more too.
I didn’t try again. She made it clear she didn’t want to kiss me, and I respected that.
But the way she looked at me the rest of the night had to have meant something.
We fell asleep with her cheek pressed to my chest and my arms effortlessly wrapped around her body like they were meant to hold her.
But then I woke up without her in my arms and shortly after found out that I’m a father to a sweet baby girl. I don’t have time to analyze what did—or didn’t—happen with Charlotte last night.
Right now, I just need my friend to answer her phone.
She’s told me all about her siblings and taking care of their kids.
I know she has experience with babies, and I could really use her guidance right now.
I’m not ready to call anyone else I know who could help me.
I don’t even know how to begin to explain Ava to anyone else.
But I do know I want to tell Charlotte. I want her here.
I’m mentally kicking myself that I might’ve jeopardized our friendship last night by kissing her when I hear the front door open.
I jump, not expecting anyone to walk in. I hadn’t even thought about locking the door after bringing Ava in because I was too focused on how I’m supposed to take care of a baby.
I have so much to figure out and so much to do, and I don’t even know where to start. There’s no protocol for finding out you have a four-month-old daughter. And not only do I have a daughter, but her mother has left me as the sole caretaker.
My eyes meet Charlotte’s, and for the first time since I found out about being a father, I’m able to let out a small breath of relief.
Charlotte’s here, and it isn’t fair of me to ask this of her, but I need her help.
“Hi,” Charlotte says, her tone unsure. She steps into the house and closes the door behind her before taking a step toward me.
“Hi,” I respond, giving her a small smile. I’ve been calling her for an hour now, needing to tell her about what’s happened, but now that she’s here, I don’t even know how to tell her how much my life has changed since she left this morning.
I take a moment just to look at her before she notices the formula canister in my hand or the baby on the floor on the other side of the island from where she stands.
She’s still dressed in her Pembroke Hills uniform, and she’s pulled her hair out of her face using a clip.
Her cheeks are a little pink from the sun, and her blue eyes watch me carefully as she walks toward me.
“I hadn’t heard from you today and…” Her words trail off as she rounds the corner of the island and her eyes land on Ava.
“Um…” It’s quiet for a moment as she just stares at Ava. “Jude, why is there a baby in your kitchen?”