Chapter 11
I stare at the squidgy,plastic envelope Emily puts in my hand. The yellowish liquid inside sloshes slightly.
It looks ... rheumy. It should not be that color. Has it gone off? My stomach rolls along with the package’s contents. “Milk’s white,” I point out.
Emily smiles tolerantly at me. “Breast milk ranges, Daddy. There’s nothing wrong with it. When Gracie was pumping for Connor, her hindmilk was always yellow. She ate a bunch of roasted beets one time and her milk turned pink! A little variation in color’s nothing to worry about.”
I tip the package back into her hands. I completely support her decision to feed Olivia with donor breast milk. Emily’s educated me about the benefits of breast milk for babies and I want Olivia to have every advantage. I’ll admit I didn’t think through the logistics of it. I was surprised as hell when a forty-something woman named Alice showed up with a toddler on one hip and a cooler on the other. Ridiculously, I envisioned glass bottles left on our doorstep by some erstwhile milkman driving a horse-drawn cart.
There’s nothing old-fashioned about this operation. The packets Emily takes out of the cooler and loads into my beer fridge, where we can set the temperature precisely, look like they belong on the space shuttle. Emmy goes through the delivery schedule with Alice over a cup of tea while I entertain Alice’s son with a tub of chunky Lego. Emily and Alice part with hugs and a promise to coordinate baby swim classes.
After we wave off Alice into the City’s golden winter afternoon, I draw Emily into my arms. Stroking my finger down the bridge of her nose, I say, “Have I told you today how proud of you I am?”
Her beautiful, hazel eyes go owl-wide. “You are?”
“I am. Any idea why that might be?”
She nibbles her bottom lip. “Because I made my word count without the Avengers shouting at me?”
“Yes, I’m proud of you for that. Anything else?”
“Because I drank all my water?”
“Yes, that, too.”
“Because I didn’t whinge when you paddled me with Belphegor after breakfast even though your paddle is very, very evil and my thighs are super stingy?”
“Also that, although Belphegor objects to being called evil and will correct that misconception tomorrow morning with double the number of strokes. Anything else?”
That gets me an angry koala face and a little hand that steals down her backside as though trying to protect her already-red bottom from the paddle’s coming bite. “I can’t think of anything else, Daddy.”
“I’m proud of you for being a little wonder. For making such an effort to give Olivia every advantage as she starts her life with us. For loving her already even though we haven’t met her yet.”
Emily’s eyes gloss. “Is it bad that I love her already? Maybe it’s too soon, Daddy?”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s not too soon. I love her already, too. It’s not about biology, baby doll. It’s about us getting ready to be her parents. It’s about our hearts making room for her, welcoming her into our family.”
Emily blinks as rapidly as she nods. “I do feel that. I feel like she’s part of our family.”
“I can tell. Thank you, baby. This means a huge amount to me.”
Her smile breaks through. “That video of her with Max and Mr. De Leon got you in the feels, didn’t it?”
“So much. So, so much. I’ll warn you in advance that I might get a little emotional tonight.”
Her smile widens into a grin. “It’s manly to cry, Daddy.”
“Hmm, I must have missed that day in Masculinity 101.”
“Well, I think it’s manly to cry. Anyone who says different is a poopy-head and you shouldn’t listen to them.”
“Good to know, sweetie. Good to know. I still might try to control myself in front of Manny, Max, and Myles. I think they might have missed that class as well. But just know that even if I’m quiet, I’m feeling a lot.”
“We can share feels when we get home.”
“That’s a deal. Manny should be here in twenty minutes. Can I help pull things together to take in the car?”
“Just the baby seat. It’s in the closet under the stairs on the high shelf if you could get it down. I have everything else packed. I’m going to make a bottle to take with us now that the milk’s arrived but otherwise, I’m ready.”
I kiss her forehead. “You really are a little wonder.”
She beams and, when I release her, skips off through the great room toward the kitchen. We may not have as much Daddy-little time after tonight but I plan to make the most of it. My little wonder deserves a big reward.
I find the car seat and leave it by the door. Then I head upstairs to tell Mac and Brenna we’re setting off before I stop in our bedroom to pick up the book I’ve been reading to Emily. We’ve got a drive ahead of us to the private airstrip where De Leon’s landing. Manny volunteered to take us in his limo, so I’ll have time to read Emmy a story or two. We recently finished Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I only learned the whitewashed versions when I was a kid, so the bloodthirsty originals were a surprise. Then we moved on to Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales. They’re no less bloody than the Brothers’ Grimm stories but they’re funnier and dirtier. I’ll admit I’m more engaged by Carter’s tales.
I pack the book and pull on a sweater. It’ll be dark by the time we get to the air strip and the nights are cold now. I consider Emmy’s side of the closet for a moment. These adorable but slightly macabre, pieces have been sneaking into her wardrobe. I noticed a new one recently: a black sweatshirt with a cartoon kitty embroidered on the front in hot pink. The kitty was missing one ear and its eyes were Xs, like they’d been buttons but the buttons fell off. Underneath, pink glitter letters spelled out: “Perfectly Imperfect.”
Which is my baby doll to a T.
I find the sweatshirt, fold it over my arm, and pad downstairs to meet my perfectly imperfect little girl.
She’s set a duffel bag by the door. It’s bulging with baby supplies: soft blankets, spare diapers, a fresh onesie, a funny, armless sleeping bag that Emily’s friend Gracie swears by. I pop the book and sweatshirt into the top of the bag and wait for my little girl. She’s only a minute or two, rushing in soft-footed, dark curls bouncing, eyes bright. She’s wearing what I dressed her in today: black tights, a pink plaid, pleated mini-skirt, black top with corset lacing on the bodice and sleeves. She’s adorable in everything, anything but her schoolgirl look kills me. I’ve been half-hard all day. By the time we pick-up Olivia and return home, it’ll be close to Emily’s bedtime but she’s getting such a fucking before we sleep.
I let her tuck the insulated bag with the bottles in it into the duffel before I open my arms. She throws herself into them the way she always does. I lift her onto my chest and hold her there so we’re nose to nose, her feet dangling.
“Wolfy-Daddy will be making an appearance at bedtime.”
Her eyes round, pupils expanding. “He will?”
“Indeed. He’s going to bite all these laces off you.” I shift her in my arms so I’m holding her with one arm, fumble for her hand, lift it to my face and snap my teeth at the ribbons dangling from her wrist. “And then he’s going to bend you over and spank your pussy for being such a mighty temptation.”
Emily shivers and stares.
“And then he’s going to eat his Little Red Riding Hood all up.”
“Including her bottom?”
Ah, is someone asking for a rimming? Emily’s slowly getting past her fears about anal sex but remains hung up about it being messy. After talking about it with both Niall and Warrin, I got some dental dams and have been using them to rim her without the kind of extensive clean-out we did the weekend of the collaring ceremony. But she hasn’t asked for it.
I rub my nose against hers. “Yes, including her little rose.”
Another, harder shiver.
“Is this because you’re proud of me?”
“It is, and because I love you and can’t get enough of you.”
She squirms against me. “I love you, too, Daddy.”
At a ping from my phone, I lower her to the ground. I slip on my shoes, help Emily into her little boots, and hustle us out to Manny’s waiting limo. We sit in the back so I can use a reading light without distracting Manny. He lowers the divider and I bump knuckles with him.
“De Leon’s right on time,” Manny says. “He might be loco but the man knows how to keep to a schedule.”
I chuckle. “Everything good?”
“All good, hermano. Jen wants to come over to meet your little one this weekend.”
“Yeah, we’re going to do an open house on Saturday afternoon. I’ll text you the time.”
“Sounds good. You got everything you need?”
Emily giggles. “In duplicate.”
Manny chuckles. “I know how that is. Buckle in. We’ll be there in about an hour.”
I put on Emily’s seat belt, take out the reading materials and a juice box for Emily, and stow our bag in the footwell, before I strap in myself. Manny pulls out into the street and rolls away through the evening traffic.
De Leon’s plane is as unassuming as the man himself. It’s white and gray on the outside, white and blue on the inside. No pictures or logos anywhere, just black numbers on the tail to identify the plane. Knowing what Myles is worth, the plane could be furnished with mama llama leather and burled walnut without making a dent in his wallet. But he always keeps a low profile and his plane is no exception.
The stairs lower and the man himself walks down them. At the bottom of the stairs, he turns and holds his hands out.
Max comes to the plane’s doorway with a car seat. He hands the car seat to Myles and disappears back into the plane’s interior. Myles cradles the car seat in one arm and wiggles his forefinger at the seat’s occupant. The hangar is noisy from a plane taxiing down the runway just beyond the hangar doors, so I can’t hear what Myles says or how the seat’s occupant responds. But I can see the tiny fist that rises out of the pile of blankets and waves around.
My chest clenches.
I put my arm around Emily and lead her forward. Myles strolls toward us, his head down so his hair curtains his face. It doesn’t look like he’s watching where he’s going but I’ve never seen him misstep. If anything, I’d say Myles is hyper-aware of his environment, the way I was when I first got back from Somalia and after Jason-the-murderous-bastard hit me twice in the head with a fire extinguisher. My hair trigger has calmed down considerably in the months since then.
I’m not sure Myles’ hair trigger will ever relax.
He stops at arm’s length without lifting his head. I lean over the car seat and see my daughter face-to-face for the first time.
I’ve heard that all babies look the same. That you can’t tell anything about what the adult will look like from a baby’s face. But I’d have known Livvy’s mine just by looking at her, without any need for the paternity test. She looks exactly like my sister Lizbeth when she was a baby, except for the eyes. I don’t know if her eyes will darken to my brown or remain their current, cloudy gray but they don’t detract from the resemblance.
“Hey, baby.” I swallow hard to clear the thickness from my voice. “Nice to meet you.”
“Can I pick her up?” Emily asks.
“Of course, baby doll. You don’t need permission.”
Emily smiles at me and reaches into the car seat. She deftly unclips the safety straps and lifts the baby out of the seat. Somehow she bundles the baby’s blankets around Livvy’s body without the blankets ending up on the ground. Emmy smiles and the baby immediately returns her smile, then sticks her fist into her mouth and gums it.
“Happy baby,” Max says, joining us with two bags slung over his shoulders. Myles sets the car seat at my feet and takes one of the bags from Max.
“Thank you both so much for bringing her home,” I say.
Max claps me on the shoulder. “Always glad for an excuse to visit moldy old England. I’ve got some not-great news, though. Miranda made a scene at the hospital yesterday, demanding to see the baby. The hospital staff were firm with her but she said she’s taking a flight today and will be in New York by nighttime.”
I tip my head from side to side to crack my neck. “She can do whatever she wants. I can’t stop her from coming to New York.”
Emily turns worried eyes up to me. “Daddy?”
I stroke her soft head before I lean over to smile at Livvy. “Nothing to be worried about, my little love. My little loves. Neither of you ever have to deal with her again.”
Emily straightens her shoulders and pulls her face back into a smile. I kiss her forehead so she knows I appreciate her effort. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about Miranda since her last visit. Emily’s worked hard on overcoming the insecurities that allowed Miranda to bait and wound her. I’m very proud of my little wonder’s efforts. I hope that Miranda showing up in New York won’t set her back. But I meant what I said. There’s nothing I can do to keep Miranda from coming to New York. But neither Emily nor Olivia ever have to deal with her again.
Miranda’s my problem. And if she makes herself a problem, I’ll deal with her my way.
We say our goodbyes and I spend much too long figuring out how to strap the car seat securely into Manny’s limo, despite studying the damn schematics for what felt like hours before we sent the car seat off with Max and Myles. Emmy hands me Olivia and I hold my daughter in my arms for the first time. It should feel smooth and natural, right?
Instead, I’m nearly paralyzed with fear that I’m not supporting her head enough. She begins fussing, probably because I’m holding her wrong, so I tuck her into her car seat quickly and then spend five minutes trying to figure out the straps.
Emily takes pity on me. She straightens the blankets around Olivia and pops in a pacifier, then clips her in the seat with three easy movements. Grunting my chagrin, I climb in beside my baby doll and cuddle her into my side while I fasten her seat belt.
“This all comes totally naturally to you, doesn’t it, little girl?”
“No, Daddy. I’ve taken Gracie’s son lots of places in his car seat. I bought a similar model for Livvy so I’d know how to use it. I spent about an hour trying to get the seat out of the car the first time.”
I chuckle. “That makes me feel better.”
She curls her small hand around mine and squeezes. “No reason to feel bad, Daddy. You’ll pick it up and I’m here to help with everything.”
“I know you are, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”
“Can I ask ... what are you going to do about Miranda?”
“I’m going to give her no reason to stay. She’s blocked from our phones. She’s not allowed at the house. She has no right to see Livvy. If she wants to spend the holidays in New York, that’s up to her but she’s not interacting with us.”
“If she hangs around the house, what do I do?”
“Report her to the police for stalking. I know a certain detective who will be happy to take your call.”
Emmy tips her head onto my shoulder. “Okay, Daddy, I get it. Zero contact.”
“Zero contact,” I confirm. “She has no right to your time, Emmy.”
“I just feel a little bad for her.”
My sweet girl and her endless empathy.
“You can feel sorry for how she’s fucked up her life without allowing her any access to your physical, mental, or emotional space, my baby.”
“Right. You’re right, Daddy.”
“I know I am. I trust you to follow my rules and respect the boundaries I’ve set up. If you do, Miranda will have no place in our lives. But if she does anything to harass you, Emmy, I want to know about it straight away. Daddy will deal with it.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“I want you free to focus on your daddy and your writing and your kitty and bonding with Livvy. You would have been free to focus on those things if I’d done a better job creating a safe space for you. I’ve told you I’m sorry for letting her into your safe space before and I’ll say it again. I’m sorry, baby doll. I’m not making the same mistake a second time. She doesn’t have any contact with you.”
She nods and cuddles in. “ILY, Daddy.”
“ILY too, sweetheart.”