Chapter 30 #2
When I came back into the living room, I went to Juniper, picked her up, and squeezed her to me, burying my head in her fresh baby scent. “I love you, little girl. I’ll see you very soon,” I whispered.
At that, tears drowned my eyes and streamed down my face. I fought to keep silent, struggled hard against the sobs that needed to escape.
Junie grabbed my hair and tugged affectionately, babbling like she did. Telling me she loved me too, I imagined. The thought had a pained smile forming on my lips, still pressed against her shoulder.
Not that Knox was looking.
He stood in front of the door to the deck, peering out, as if the lake was the most interesting thing ever. Not the heart he was breaking behind him.
I couldn’t bring myself to let go of Juniper for a good minute or two. Once I got my tears to stop falling, I took in the shakiest of breaths, gave her the most heartfelt kiss, and set her back down amid her toys, handing her the stuffed monkey she loved.
Straightening, I said to Knox’s back, “Goodbye, Knox. Let me know if you need help with June.”
His only reply was a nod, still not facing me, and that told me all I needed to know.
I’d misjudged everything. Mistaken what he felt for me as more than it was. Gotten sucked in by the “coziness” of our setup.
Once again I’d let myself want a future with a man. Once again I’d let myself get my heart broken. Except this time, it hurt so badly I could barely get a breath in. Because this time, I’d truly fallen in love.
Knox
I stared out at the lake, not seeing a damn thing but knowing, if I turned around and watched Quincy walk out the door, I’d probably stop her.
I needed to let her go.
I’d always known I had to let her go, but fuck. This was harder than I’d ever imagined.
The door clicked shut, and still, I didn’t move, listening to be sure she was gone. The only sound was Juniper’s favorite rattle she used as a teething toy.
When I heard Quincy’s car drive away, I closed my eyes. My jaw was locked tight, giving me a headache I hadn’t noticed until now. My arms were crossed, fists clenched tight, as if I was fighting myself.
Probably accurate.
In my head, I knew what I’d done was right. There was no way in hell it was okay for Quincy to throw away her college opportunity and the teaching career it would lead to. Even though she said she was okay with it, I would never be.
“Ah-gah!”
Juniper’s baby babble jolted me out of my thoughts, reminded me I had a six-month-old to care for. Breakfast to make. A day to figure out now that I’d ensured we were on our own, for better or worse.
“Come here, June Bug.” I turned, found her on her tummy with the rattle flung to the side as she reached for her stuffed monkey. “I didn’t even ask Quincy if you had your breakfast yet.”
Scooping her up, I inhaled her baby scent and let my love for her wash over me, like a blanket of calmness, of protection from…the hard stuff.
I stood behind my suggestion of spending time apart.
Quincy needed to see things objectively.
She needed time to go out with her twentysomething friends and be carefree before she had to buckle down at school and study.
She needed a reminder that she wasn’t forty and married and the mother of an infant.
She had all the time in the world to get to that place in life—later. Much later.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think about Quincy now. I was going to be the dad Juniper needed.
After blowing a raspberry on Juniper’s belly, I sniffed her to be sure she didn’t need a diaper change, then lowered her into her high chair while I found myself some breakfast.
Quincy didn’t cook every day, but she made breakfast often enough that I’d gotten spoiled.
“I can make breakfast,” I muttered, determined. I was fine with cooking. I’d done it all the time before Juniper. Before Quincy.
As I opened the refrigerator, my daughter started banging her hands on her tray and vocalizing. I let the fridge close and turned to her.
“Are you hungry, or are you playing me?”
Of course, my daughter only hollered louder and continued her rhythm on the tray. It was a happy holler, I noted. Maybe she was just feeling musical.
Quincy would know exactly what she wanted.
It was high time I learned to figure out the same.
“Cereal?” I asked her as I went for the box. I spread a few oat rings in front of her, earning a wide grin. “That’s what you wanted.”
I had enough time to pull the eggs and a pan out before I noticed Juniper was systematically picking up each piece of cereal, dropping it over the side of the tray, and watching it land on the floor.
“Maybe we’ll get a dog.” As if I needed another living creature depending on my caretaking. “June.” I went over, bent down and picked up the cereal, and tossed it in the trash. So that wasn’t the answer after all.
As soon as I had the stove warming for an omelet, my good-natured daughter started to crank. I knew there was some ham and diced onions and jalapenos in the refrigerator, but I decided scrambled would be easier and good enough.
“June Bug, what’s wrong?”
Before I committed and poured my eggs into the pan, I lifted her and did a more thorough check of her diaper. It was dry, light, and unstinky. She quieted, her grumping turning more chatter-like.
She waited until the eggs were cooking to start fussing again, and I closed my eyes, searching my mind for what she could possibly need right now. I could hear Quincy’s voice in my head saying, Babies don’t cry for no reason. The trick is figuring out if it’s a legit reason and what it is.
As I went back toward her high chair, a stench that wasn’t there two minutes ago hit me. “Okay then,” I said, flipping off the burner on my half-cooked eggs. “Maybe your tummy hurts.”
I had her diaper changed in no time, then brought her back out to the kitchen. As I walked up to the stove, still holding her, I eyed the runny, half-cooked eggs. My hunger had vanished. Eating seemed like too much.
Cleaning the kitchen seemed like too much.
The day itself seemed like too much.
Leaving the mess, I did a one eighty to the living room, stretched out along the sectional, settled Juniper between me and the back, and closed my eyes.
I’d done the right thing. Quincy would be better off this way.
Juniper and I would be okay too. We’d get used to being on our own. We’d master all of it.
But right now, I couldn’t deny…nothing felt like it would ever be okay.