Chapter 21
Haven
“Alex.” I nudge him. Nothing. “Alex.” Still nothing.
“ALEX!”
He rubs his eyes open. “Wassrong?”
“Something’s wrong with Everly. She’s got a temperature, and she’s been sick.”
Immediately, Alex bolts up, takes one look at me and Everly screaming in my arms, and reaches for his phone. He hits one of the numbers on his speed dial and, while he’s waiting for his call to be picked up, turns and holds the back of his hand to Everly’s forehead.
“What happened? Why didn’t I wake up?” he croaks and clears his throat.
“I was up to feed her—”
Alex turns back to the phone. “Oli, it’s Alex Burlington.
Can you come over? There’s something wrong with Everly.
No, she seemed fine . . . yes, temperature, and she’s been sick.
” Alex turns, casting an eye over Everly squirming on my chest. “Great, thank you.” Tossing his phone to the side, he reaches out for us. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.” I smile, only for my face to crumple.
I’ve tried everything I can to make her more comfortable, every position she usually responds to, but nothing is working. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve forgotten when it used to be like this all the time. How I barely survived.
Before I arrived here.
“Hey, it’s okay, Hayve. It’ll be okay. Let’s see what Oliver says.” He gently strokes Everly’s head with one hand and wipes my face dry with the other.
I nod and sniff, grateful for his calm because it’s not something I have a full grip on right now. It’s hard to stay calm when you have a screaming baby in your arms. It’s also hard to hear anything when she’s so loud.
Alex jumps out of bed and walks to his closet, returning in sweats and a hoodie to sit right next to me again. He starts rubbing her back, and for a nanosecond, she’s silent, only to projectile vomit all over me again.
When the screaming returns, it’s louder.
“Oh my God,” I mouth to Alex, then make my voice as soft as possible for Everly. “Oh baby, okay, it’s okay.” Only I don’t know if it’s okay. It doesn’t feel okay. It feels different.
Everly’s been sick on me more times than I can count, but not like this. And she’s never screamed in pain.
Alex holds his hands out. “Haven, let me take her. You can change, and I’ll put her in something clean.”
I nod, trying to wipe away the puke from my chin, and follow Alex through to the nursery. The movement seems to soothe her a little, and the screaming turns down a notch, but the second we put her on the changing table, it goes right back up again. Along with my tears.
Alex and I work together as quickly as possible to get her out of the vomit-soaked romper and cleaned up, all the while he talks to her in that voice she loves.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, I know. I know, we’ve all been there. Especially your uncle Miles. When you’re a little bit older, I’ll tell you all about the times he’s thrown up on himself.” He scoops her up, cradling her head until she’s resting on his chest.
He stands there gently swaying from side to side, his hands rubbing in calming circular motions on her back while he lets her cry.
I’m watching them—watching him—when his eyes meet mine. “Babe, go and get changed.”
Easing off my T-shirt as carefully as possible, I toss it into the hamper and pick up a washcloth. I thought I’d gotten used to the smell of stale milk, but something about this one has me gagging, and as hard as I try to clean myself quickly, it’s still following me around.
Then I find it in my hair, crusting the ends together, and try to rinse that too.
While I’m in the bathroom, Everly’s screams subside.
But my panic doesn’t, even when I use my breathing exercises as I stand at the mirror trying to regulate my heartbeat.
Because I know when I panic, so does Everly.
“Babies get sick,” I tell myself over and over.
Babies get sick. But it doesn’t make it any easier.
It doesn’t make me feel any less helpless.
But I’m not helpless, and I’m not alone. That thought pulls me up.
I dry my tears and sniff hard. Get your shit together, Haven.
Alex is pacing across the bedroom when I go back out there, lips pressed to our daughter’s head as she cries. I want to take her back, to comfort her, but she seems calmer in Alex’s arms, and watching them together makes me calmer, so I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the doctor.
“Was she crying when you went in?”
I shake my head. “No, but when I lifted her, she puked. Then started—”
“I’m sorry you had to wake me up.”
I smile at him, holding Everly like the most precious cargo in the world, marveling at the fact he thinks he needs to apologize for not helping when that’s literally all he does. I never asked him to prove himself as a father, but he does it every day, over and over again.
I’m starting to believe there’s a chance this is our life now, Alex and me. What’s more, I’m hoping it is, and I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t. Because after six weeks in England, the idea of living apart again hurts me. It makes my chest ache to the point of physical pain.
I came to England to find Alex, but as I sit on the bed and watch him cradle our daughter, I know I found so much more.
I found love.
When the doorbell rings, I sprint to answer it, to find the same doctor who took Everly’s swab for her paternity test, only this time he looks less suave and more disheveled. I wonder how often he gets middle-of-the-night call-outs.
“Hello, Haven, good to see you again. Where’s the patient?”
“Upstairs with Alex.”
He follows me to the nursery, walking straight over to them while I watch by the door. There’s a gentleness to his touch as he strokes across Everly’s head, before pulling out a stethoscope from the bag he’s carrying.
He coos and mumbles to her, cautiously checking her little body, her breathing, inspecting her ears, and taking her temperature, all the while Everly keeps up her screaming, no matter how calm a voice he tries to use.
After what feels like an eternity, he turns around to me. “She’s certainly got a set of lungs on her, hasn’t she?”
I offer a weak smile. It’s all I can manage without my tears starting up again.
“When was her last feed?”
“At seven, before bed.”
He nods and hums. “Her temperature isn’t alarmingly high, not enough to worry too much. Her heart rate and breathing seem normal. She doesn’t have a rash either. How old is she now?”
“Three months almost,” replies Alex, and I hear the pride in his voice. There’s always pride whenever he talks about Everly.
“It might be the early signs of teething, but I want to monitor her in case it’s not. I’m going to give her some painkillers now to bring her temperature down, and it’ll relieve any pain she’s in too. If she’s sick again, call me. Otherwise, we’ll check in first thing.”
The simultaneous sigh of relief Alex and I let out is palpable.
“Okay, thanks, Oli. We appreciate you coming.”
“You’re welcome.” He slaps Alex on the shoulder, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and steps back.
Turning to me still in the doorway, he then peers around the nursery, almost like he’s assessing the situation.
“You’re doing fine, but you better get used to the sleepless nights. There’ll be plenty more.”
My lips roll tightly. Fine isn’t a word I’d use. I’m barely managing to keep my shit together, but I say, “Thank you.”
Oli scribbles out a prescription and hands it to Alex, along with a small bottle of red liquid.
“This will get you through the night and just keep her hydrated. Call me if there are any changes, and keep checking her temperature, but I think she’ll be okay.
This is nothing more than a rite of passage for you two. ”
Alex stays holding Everly, and I take Oliver down to the front door, thanking him again. The moment it closes behind me, I sprint back upstairs to find Alex’s face wet with tears.
His muscles feel stiff under my hand as I rub along his back. “Alex?”
He wipes his sleeve across his face. “She’s just so tiny, and I can’t do anything to help her.”
Weirdly, Alex’s tears dry mine up, and a smile breaks through my anxiety. It’s reassuring to know it’s not just me falling apart, and seeing Alex crying only makes me stronger. We’re a delicate balancing act, drawing on each other’s strengths to make the perfect whole.
“You’re doing exactly what she needs,” I tell him. “If you want to keep her, I’ll go and make us some hot chocolate. I’m guessing neither of us is going to get any sleep.”
He reaches out, pulling me against him with his spare arm closing around my neck, and drops a kiss to my mouth.
There’s something so comforting about it, reassuring, tender, about the way we stay pressed together.
And when we finally break apart, his arm stays wrapped around me, his big blue eyes boring into mine as unspoken words pass between us.
Words like we’re in this together. We’re a team.
And feels a lot like love.
“I’ll be back.” I rush downstairs and whip up two hot chocolates and a bottle for Everly. I also take some of the broken, leftover pieces of gingerbread from the cookie tin, put them on a plate, and carry them all back up on a tray.
I find them in Alex’s bedroom, Everly lying on his chest. Whatever the medicine was, it seems to have kicked in quickly, because she’s quiet and her head doesn’t feel quite so hot. I settle down next to them, passing Alex his hot chocolate, and set the plate of gingerbread between us.
“Mmm.” He picks up a piece and bites down. “This isn’t the one your arse was in, is it?”
I nudge him, trying to keep my laughter to a minimum. “No, this is from the practice house.”
“Shame.” He chuckles. “What do you think the odds are on us winning?”
The final gingerbread house was dropped off yesterday, and it wasn’t my best work. We also broke so many of the pieces after having sex in the kitchen that I was amazed we managed to salvage a whole house from the shards left.
“Probably close to zero.”
“Oh well,” he whispers. “There’s always next year.”
Next year.
Turning my body, I stretch out alongside him, staring at Everly asleep on his chest, their breaths rising and falling in sync. “I’m so glad you’re with me.”
He reaches his spare hand out and twines his fingers with mine. “I always want to be here. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re on your own. I don’t want to miss out on moments like this.”
I huff softly. “Everly’s exorcist moments?”
“Any of it.” He brings my hand to his lips, grazing them along my knuckles. And when he turns to me, his face is serious. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Everly’s the only one of us who sleeps that night, and we spend the early hours in whispered conversations and shared secrets with the faint smell of stale milk hanging in the air while we laugh and monitor our daughter.
By the morning, I feel closer to Alex than I ever have.
Along with the question of not whether I’ll fall in love with him, but by how much, and what I’m going to do about it when we have to leave for Aspen.