Miller
The hot water cascaded across my back, loosening my muscles and turning my legs to jelly. I braced one hand on the wall and groaned, rubbing the water from my eyes, blissfully in that euphoric state that only happened post-orgasm. My muscles bunched and released as I stretched before grabbing the four-in-one shampoo—that there was absolutely nothing wrong with—happy to relive last night and this morning while skirting my responsibilities.
The business I ran with my two brothers, TriVolt Electric, was a well-run machine with Maverick at the helm and Brooke, his dutiful second mate and office manager, keeping the rest of us in line as we worked toward opening the showroom. Even though partially finished light fixtures and chandeliers covered every available surface of the office, it would all be worth it once we finished the space and had a proper area to showcase our designs.
Magnum was in Summerville picking up some special marble he didn’t trust shipping, and my crews were finishing up two jobs I was due to inspect this afternoon. But now, Friday morning, after waking up between the legs of a beautiful girl, I couldn’t help but grin shamelessly at how awesome my life was.
My phone blinked as I toweled off, hoping Emma had changed her mind about calling in—not that she would. Her work ethic was next level, and she’d pointed out more than once how I should take a page out of her book.
No, thank you.My life had the proper balance of work and play, unlike hers, where the majority of her waking hours revolved around pleasing whatever department head needed assistance.
Once that girl got something in her head, nothing could change her mind—but a guy could dream. Maybe she’d be up for round two this weekend.
Mark:Are you there?
Mark:Jenna was called in for emergency surgery on a labradoodle, and I’m alone with Eloise.
Mark:I need help!
Mark:Wake up and answer me!
Mark:ANSWER ME, YOU FREAKING IDIOT!
Me:Whoa, bro. What’s going on?
Mark:Get your ass over here. Please. Hurry
Me:Are you okay? Is the baby okay?
Mark:Yes. Of course. No. Probably. Just get over here!
Me:No prob. Let me get dressed, and I’m on the way.
Mark:Good.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbing my keys and wallet before running out the door. Mark was always the calm and quiet brother, never raising his voice or freaking out. Eloise was born two months ago, and Mark took to fatherhood like a fish took to water. He loved and doted on that baby girl, never once complaining about dirty diapers or lack of sleep.
I jogged to my truck and peeled out of the parking lot, thankful they lived only a few miles down the road. I thought Jenna had another week or three of maternity leave left—but being the boss, she had the authority to make her own schedule, so I wasn’t surprised she went back to her clinic as soon as possible.
By the time I threw my car in park and ran to the door, I’d come up with half a dozen scenarios of what I’d find.
Eloise stuck with her head in between the slats of her crib? Was that a thing? Could she lift her head yet? Maybe she had an unexplained bout of the hiccups? A rash? Fever?
Why the hell did he call me? I knew more about freaking turnips than I did about babies. If Mark needed the smart panel in the house looked at, he called—not for random baby-related issues I may or may not have any insight into.
I threw open the door and was met with shrieking—no, wailing. Perhaps Mark found a poltergeist in the attic and inadvertently pissed it off.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growled, stepping out from the kitchen with Eloise pressed to his chest.
Ah. Not a poltergeist.
He shushed her, red-faced and panicked, swaying his body and rubbing circles on her back as she continued her attempt to shatter all the glass in the house.
“Was there traffic or something? Were you with some chick? I’m floundering here, and you drove slower than… something.”
His shoulders sagged as he moved, switching to pat her back as she let out another ear-piercing scream that made my eardrums throb.
I’d have to get my hearing checked later.
I didn’t know what to do, but standing in the doorway while my younger brother looked on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, wasn’t solving anything.
“It wasn’t some chick,” I answered, stuffing my hands in the pocket of the joggers and confused about what bothered me more—that he referred to Emma as some chick or that he assumed I’d hooked up with some random.
“Fine. Not some chick. Madison, perhaps?”
I grimaced, wincing as he chuckled and continued to unsuccessfully soothe the baby. Madison was maybe fiftieth down the list of my bad decisions—and one I refused to repeat, especially now that Emma and I were hooking up again.
“No? Okay, then. The love of your life, perhaps? Your soulmate? The missing piece of your heart?”
“Sarcasm does not suit you,” I said, rolling my eyes and huffing as he adjusted Eloise to his other shoulder.
“Yes. Well, having brothers who don’t answer text messages brings out the best in me, obviously.”
“Speaking of said message. Did your panicked tone have something to do with the red-faced banshee on your shoulder?”
His face dropped, and he ground his teeth, curling his body around Eloise in a way only a parent could. A weird mix of pride and absurdity bubbled in my gut as I stared at Mark, still confused as to why he messaged me. There were our three brothers, a mother, a mother-in-law, and who knew how many friends he could have texted. Surely, mass text messages were sent before he reached out to me.
Did he have faith in my ability as an uncle, or was I a last resort?
Either way, my confidence was tanking after its earlier boost with Emma.
“She won’t stop crying, Miller. This is the first time—the first time Jenna has left the house, and my daughter will not stop caterwauling like I’m stabbing her with hot pokers.”
“Um. Have you called Mom?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck as he practically shoved Eloise in my face.
Way to inspire confidence, idiot.
“Does she feel warm to you? What about cold? Can babies get too cold? Fuck, I cannot call Jenna, and Mom isn’t answering her phone.”
“Okay. Dude. Breathe,” I said, putting both hands on his shoulders and steering him to the couch. He held her closer and sat down, cradling her in his arms as the shrieking reached new decibels that were sure to damage my upper-range hearing.
“She’s not hungry, and she’s dry. I’ve sang and bounced and rocked her, but she won’t stop crying.”
“Right,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Here, let me hold her.”
I can do this—I can be the reliable one.
He nodded, carefully passing her over and groaning. “What does the book say?” I gestured to one of several baby books on their coffee table. I was not used to being the calm one in a situation but was determined to at least de-escalate Mark’s rantings until a more suitable substitute could be found.
“That sometimes babies cry.” He gritted his teeth, putting his head in his hands as I looked over Eloise. She seemed okay, other than a beet-red face and tiny baby fists clenched in anger.
“Right. Stupid-ass book. Um. We can do this. We are capable men who will not be bested by a ten-pound infant with an attitude problem.”
“Hey. That’s my baby girl,” he said, elbowing me in the arm that was not holding the flailing infant.
“Yes. Well, your baby girl is obviously trying to tell you something. We just need to figure out what it is.”
Good job. Remain calm.
Mark jumped up, pacing the room and running his hands through his hair as I lifted Eloise to my shoulder. She had on a onesie with pink rubber duckies, and I touched her fingers and toes to see if the crying got worse or better. Against my better judgment, I lifted her diaper-covered booty to my nose and sniffed, grateful all I got was laundry detergent and that unique baby scent that had her mother and mine constantly sniffing Eloise’s head.
“The book has to have another suggestion other than babies sometimes cry. Let’s figure it out, or call your wife and tell her you’re a shit babysitter.”
“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own kid, prick.”
I shrugged, adjusting the still-crying Eloise and wondering if, with that lung capacity, she’d one day become an Olympic diver.
“Not to be unsympathetic or anything, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and my ears are bleeding. We need reinforcements.”
“Don’t swear in front of the baby,” Mark hissed, reaching over to cover her ears.
“Dude. She can’t hear us over that racket. I have no problem admitting defeat at the hands of my niece. So, either call someone or pass me your fu—freaking phone. Please.”
I stretched out my hand, motioning for his phone with an eyebrow arched. He huffed, crossing his arms as I rolled my eyes and adjusted Eloise again. Finally, with all the drama of a prepubescent teenager, he handed it over, and I quickly thumbed to the search bar. Surely Dr. Google would be able to assist if this dunderhead refused to call in proper reinforcements.
“So, what were you doing this morning?” he asked, way too casual for someone who was slowly going deaf. He fell onto the cushions beside me, running a hand through his hair before reaching over to pat Eloise’s back.
“Huh?”
“Maybe she’s reading the room and won’t calm down until I do. Jenna said babies can pick up on the tension and anxiety around them.”
I wasn’t paying attention to his useless attempts at assistance, too busy scrolling through a list of actual reasons babies cried.
Fever. Colic. Toe tourniquet. Intestinal distress. Temperament.
The list went on and on—and on, all with Mark twittering in the background about who knew what.
Relax? Ha. Who could relax?
“Just distract me until my heartrate drops below triple digits. I am not calling Mom again or bothering Jenna.”
“Fine. I’ll distract you. Here’s a list of the top ten reasons infants cry.” I cleared my throat as we both stared at Eloise. Her tiny face was still red, but she stopped kicking her feet and shaking her fists. We held a collective breath and waited—for what, who knew? Perhaps to see if she’d finally given up her wailing, or maybe to determine who would call the hearing specialist.
With another bloodcurdling cry, she started again, and I stood, cradling her like a football as I paced the living room.
“No. No. Nope. I’ve done more reading today than I have all month. None of the lists have a decent explanation for why my little princess has turned into a wailing banshee. Distract me with something else. Why did it take you so long to answer me?”
“Emma stayed over last night. If you must know.”
He stopped with his hand partway through his scalp and smiled, the expression borderline scary with the dark smudges under his eyes and spit-up stains on his shirt. “Really? I didn’t know you two were an item.”
“Shit, Mark. Are you five? Would you like to know if I passed her a note after biology?”
“Don’t swear in front of the baby,” he reminded me as I paced, doing a slow lap through the dining room and kitchen before returning to where he sat on the sofa. He’d lain down and thrown his hand over his face, and I was contemplating getting out of the house and walking around the yard when he started talking again.
“Nah, but something tells me your revolving door of women has thinned out since you started things up with her again, right? Why not make it official?”
I scoffed, not bothering to answer, as he propped one elbow on the arm of the sofa.
“Is the third Hansen brother finally going to take the leap and settle down? Should I alert the Times and Mom to start looking at invitations and color swatches?”
“Are you high from sniffing your kid’s head too much? What’s with the third degree?”
It wasn’t that I was offended—well, maybe a little, but he’d never cared at all about my sex-capades before.
Something was definitely up.
“Nah. Just thought since Magnum and I have settled down, you might be thinking along those same lines. I mean, Mom is nuts about Emma.”
Yep. I walked right into a trap. Stupid, Miller.
“Just because Magnum hardly sleeps at home anymore doesn’t mean he’s settled down.”
“Sure.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hiking Eloise a little higher on my shoulder. Thankfully, she had calmed down as much as a cranky baby could.
“And just because you’re content to not be able to settle your own baby, living in the house we grew up in, doesn’t immediately mean I’m ready to follow in your footsteps.”
“Harsh,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “Low blow.”
“Yeah? Well, so is making me feel like an incompetent doofus. I ran over here, worried something was seriously the matter, only to find out it was some lame attempt to ask me about my love life. Mom put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“No. That wasn’t it,” he said, standing and slapping me on the arm as I continued to pace with Eloise. “Not really. You haven’t been around the last couple of weeks, and I just figured you were with a new chick. When you said you were with Emma, I assumed you were giving things a real chance.”
I shrugged, only partway believing him because this had our mother written all over it. Half of her boys were in committed relationships, and it gave her the itch to make sure the other half went the same way.
“Regardless of the fact that I think you and Emma should get together,” he went on as I avoided his eyes and turned to walk in the other direction, “I, uh, miss talking to you.”
I turned and watched him rub the back of his neck and stare at a spot on the carpet below him.
“Then tell me that, dude. Don’t make up some half-ass reason why I should come over based on you and Mom gossiping.”
“Yeah. I mean, she did ask that I mention something to you, and I agreed with her, but—”
I glared at him, smiling as he held his hands up in surrender.
“Right. Okay. I’ll shut up about it.”
“Good. Now—oh. Whoa. Her belly is really hard, Mark.”
“What? Hard? What did the book say about that? Gas, right? Oh, fuck all. Give her here,” he said, reaching out to take her before gently placing her on his thighs. He ran his hands over her belly and down her legs with his lips between his teeth and his eyes pinched.
“Oh, no. You’re right. I need to burp her or bicycle her legs.”
I chose to be the better person and bask in the glorious sunlight of him saying I was right, rather than reminding him of his earlier rule not to swear in front of the baby.
Perhaps this day would end on a high note, after all.
As if Eloise heard me finally discovering her condition and saying it out loud, she let out the loudest, most disgusting noise possible. Think of a herd of elephants stomping on wet bubble wrap. We stopped and stared at the ten-pound infant as she sighed, then stuck her fist in her mouth and babbled away like she hadn’t ripped the loudest fart I’d ever heard.
“And that’s my cue,” I said, slapping him on the back and grabbing a baby wipe from the open container on the coffee table.
“Oh, you are an asshole,” he said as I cleaned my hands and laughed while he struggled to hold his breath.
“Ah. Ah. Language, little brother. Language.”
The front door opened as I passed Mark a new diaper. We both stopped and stared at the newcomer. Maverick stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a scowl deeper than the Grand Canyon.
“This better be an emergency and not some attempt to set me up with your neighbor’s cousin’s sister again, Mark. You’re almost as bad as Mom is. Now, where’s my niece, and what’s that smell?”
He obviously saw the ruse for what it was right away, and I took solace that my first concern was Mark and Eloise’s distress and not some useless attempt to pry into my love life. I chuckled as he pursed his lips. Mark, at least, didn’t make it worse by saying anything as Maverick stalked forward, cracking his knuckles.
I watched the scene play out, backpedaling slowly to the front door as my brothers worked in tandem to handle the dirty diaper. Maverick was braver than I was, passing Mark wipe after wipe like he was a nurse assisting with a complicated surgery.
Chuckling, I waved at them as I made my exit. “I’ll help you with all the things, all the time, bro. But I draw the line at having you and Mom conspire to fix my love life while you’re elbow deep in baby turds. I’m doing just fine, thank you. Why don’t you use all this excess time you seem to have and work on Maverick, hm? He is the oldest, after all.”
Just when I thought Maverick’s scowl was at its absolute worst, he turned to me, and his eyebrows contorted, making my balls shrink to the size of marbles before I remembered he was all bark and no bite. I laughed, shaking my head before clapping them on the back and striding to the door so I could make my escape. My laughter continued down the stairs and toward my truck, Maverick’s fervent argument about boundaries and baby butts following in my wake.