Chapter 37
thirty-seven
EMILY
I love subbie sleepovers, even if the reason for this one is awful.
I love them even more when Daddy lets me fall asleep in the subbie pile but then carries me upstairs to our big bed.
As good as sleepovers are, sleeping with Daddy is always better.
He seems to understand that I’m too sad for Os and just cuddles me all night.
When I wake up in the morning, Daddy’s still asleep beside me, even though it’s well past the time he usually gets up. I think yesterday was a lot for him, too.
I ease my way out of bed and use the bathroom quickly because it will be in demand today with so many people in the house, even if Warrin, Bravo, and Sean took their subbies home last night and Jiro and Laurel went back to their hotel.
A hotel that should become Miranda-free today.
And, yes, I intend to call to make sure.
Just because I don’t plan to add to the woman’s misery by pushing for her prosecution, doesn’t mean I’m not going to ensure she leaves the country. The Mir-beast needs to go.
I check on Livvy, who is awake and kicking happily in her sleeping sack but not crying. The floor around her crib is littered with Little Larrys, including one that she somehow managed to pull or kick off the bar of sensory toys over the crib.
“Has someone been caber tossing this morning, Livvy-bit? What a strong girl!”
I gather up the stuffed dinosaurs and baby. A quick change of diaper and onesie and she’s ready for breakfast. According to her schedule, she’s with Master Mac today but I don’t know if Daddy will want to keep to the schedule with everything that’s going on.
“We’ll just be flexible today, won’t we, baby?
” I tell her as I take her downstairs. I hear footsteps and water running upstairs, so Mac or Bren or both are up.
The great room is dark and quiet and someone’s drawn the heavy curtain we rarely use between the living room area and the kitchen/dining room area.
I duck through the curtain and find Mr. De Leon sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.
Daddy definitely did not give Mr. De Leon access to the house but it probably shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here.
“Good morning, Mr. De Leon.”
“Good morning, Emily. I made some scrambled eggs and coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, sir, I don’t mind.” Daddy may but I don’t. People who feed themselves without making a mess in my kitchen are my favorite kind of guest. I can’t see so much as a dirty fork as I move around the island and take out packs of frozen breakfast links to defrost.
“I hear water running. Is your daddy up?”
I shake my head. “Yesterday was a tough day. He’s having a lie-in.”
Mr. De Leon turns his coffee cup around in his hands. “Yes, it was.”
I saw him with Fleur at our Halloween-Eve-Eve party. They were cuddling during the ghost stories. Does he have feelings for her? Or is it just that he’s been spending a lot of time with Cappa, and Cappa and Fleur are close?
Those aren’t questions I’m going to ask today. They’re not important in the face of what’s happened.
“Have you seen Fleur?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She’s not conscious yet so they’re only allowing her designated medical contact in. But Jack assisted with her surgery last night and I was able to talk to him when I got back into the country.”
Was he out of the country? I thought Cappa was staying at his house?
“She had another surgery?” I ask hesitantly as I prepare Livvy’s bottle.
Mr. De Leon nods. “The bone around her left eye was broken. The surgeon in New Jersey set it but the surgeon at Presbyterian was concerned about something called recession, so they did another surgery last night.”
“Daddy didn’t let me hear about her injuries yesterday. Are they very bad?”
Mr. De Leon tips his head from side to side but doesn’t look up from his coffee cup. “I’ve seen worse.”
I have a feeling he means on a battlefield. And that he’s being cavalier because he doesn’t want to upset me.
“Do they know when she’ll wake up?” I ask.
“No. It could be a few days yet. They’re letting her sleep as long as her body needs to.”
I sit down across from him with Livvy and her feeding supplies. “Would you like to feed Livvy, Mr. De Leon?” I ask.
He glances up from his coffee cup, surprise written across his face. Mr. De Leon almost never looks straight at you, even when he talks to you. He has startling, gray eyes, like a Husky. Today, they’re red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“Yes, I would, Emily. Thank you.”
I push the feeding supplies across the table before walking around to give him the baby. He holds her correctly: at a 45-degree angle with the bottle horizontal, the milk just filling the nipple so she has to suck. I see he’s remembered the British nurse’s instructions.
“We’re doing paced feedings,” I explain to him. “She should be stopping to take a breath every three to five sucks. Less or more than that and we stop to give her a break.”
Mr. De Leon nods. He holds the bottle like he’d hold a cup of tea, with his pinkie-finger extended. Livvy grabs his finger and stares up at him as she sucks.
“Hey, baby,” he says. “Seriously doubt you remember me but it’s good to see you again.”
If she didn’t remember him at all, she’d probably be fussing, although Livvy’s very calm with strangers, possibly from spending the first month of her life in the hospital, being handled by lots of different nurses and doctors.
“Do you like babies, Mr. De Leon?” I ask.
He nods without looking away from the baby.
“Would you like some of your own some day?”
He chuckles. “Are you offering?”
“No, sir.”
“Sorry, I know that was rude. I’m not used to people asking me personal questions. Yes, I would like a baby or two of my own someday but not until after my father dies. He’s never getting his hands on my kids.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry for. How’s your mum? I know she’s in a home.”
I prop my head on my hand and watch Livvy feed. “She’s not doing so well. She has advanced dementia. She doesn’t remember anyone. She has delusions. But the home she’s in is very nice. They take good care of her.”
“My mum was institutionalized for three years before she died,” he says. “Sometimes, the best we can do for the people we love is let someone else take care of them.”
“Is it the best we can do for them?” I ask. “Because some days it feels like a cop-out.”
Mr. De Leon’s eyes flash to mine. “You’re a very good writer, Emily. I’ve read three of your books. Could you have cared for your mother and written your books, too?”
He’s read my books? Stunned, I shake my head.
“I couldn’t have done my job and cared for my mother, either. Just visiting her once a week left me a husk. The people who cared for my mother and are caring for yours have the skills and ability to do what we can’t. So, yes, it is the best we can do for them.”
I look down at the table and let his words sink in. They soothe a raw place in my heart that I wasn’t even aware of.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You’re welcome. If you’d ever like to talk about what’s happening with your mum, I’m happy to listen. I understand what it’s like to watch someone you love lose themselves by inches.”
“I will. Sometimes I really struggle after I’ve visited her.”
“You can call me anytime. Your daddy has my number.”
“Thank you.”
He sets the bottle down on the table, props Livvy up with a hand on her chest, and rubs her back. She lets out three, froggy burps and then coos.
Mr. De Leon chuckles before settling her back in the crook of his arm and offering her the bottle and his pinkie again.
“How are you liking being a mum?” he asks.
I could tell him I’m not Livvy’s mum; I’m Daddy’s best little babysitter. But I don’t feel like a babysitter anymore. Livvy’s as much my family as Daddy or Master Mac or my Big Sub Bestie.
“I love it,” I tell him honestly.
“How’s the balance of parenthood and littlehood?” he asks.
“Is ‘littlehood’ a thing?” I grin at him, which he must see in his peripheral vision, because he smiles down at Livvy.
Littlehood is unquestionably a thing, I just like teasing him gently because he’s new to the lifestyle.
“It’s good. Daddy’s schedule keeps everything balanced.
I’m more of a middle anyway. It hasn’t been hard to wrap parenthood into my middleness. ”
Mr. De Leon nods without taking his eyes off the baby. “Do you think it would be more difficult to balance if you went younger and couldn’t care for Livvy while you were being very little?”
“Probably,” I admit. “But I also think I’d have trouble sustaining a very young mindset for long periods of time. I might just ask Daddy to build in a block of time every day for me to be very young while someone else looks after Livvy.”
“That makes sense—” Mr. De Leon breaks off; his eyes slide toward the curtain. “Your daddy’s up.”
His hearing’s really good. Now that he mentions it, I can hear the slap of Daddy’s huge wolfy feet across the floor but I didn’t notice it until he brought it to my attention. Daddy pushes through the curtain.
“Myles? Sorry, I didn’t see your message until just now.”
“That’s because you were asleep when I sent it at four in the morning. Like a normal person.” Mr. De Leon’s mouth twitches. “You’re allowed to sleep, Logan.”
“Have you?”
Mr. De Leon’s smile dies. “Not yet.”
“How many days of ‘not yet’ is that?” Daddy asks.
“Two. I had trouble getting back on short notice. Had to do some hiking.” His mouth twitches again. “And steal a motorcycle.”
Daddy chuckles. “Baby, can I help with breakfast?”
The right answer is “no” because Bren and I have breakfast under control and anyone else in the kitchen just gets in our way.
But Daddy’s wearing his frowny line this morning even though he’s only been up for five minutes: he hasn’t even brushed his hair or shaved yet. I can tell he needs to feel useful.