Chapter 18
Livvy is a psychic baby.
I didn’t know babies could be psychic but Livvy’s the most awesome baby in the world and she’s psychic.
She’s quiet and alert from the moment she wakes up at 7:05—Gracie’s amazing schedule at work—staring at me the way she stared at Cappa. I lean in as we dress her so she can see my face clearly. She blinks and grins her gummy grin but doesn’t coo or gurgle. When I blow kisses at her, she puckers her lips like she’s blowing kisses back but doesn’t even giggle.
“She’s quiet this morning,” Logan remarks as he carries her downstairs.
The house is as quiet as the baby. Bren and Mac ate an early breakfast and left for her shop. Master Mac wanted to get in a run and a shower before he opens his daycare, where Livvy’s going for the first time today.
While we share whole wheat bagels and lox from the deli down the street for breakfast, Daddy watches the morning news and I curl up next to him on the couch with Livvy on my lap. She blows milky bubbles but still doesn’t make a sound. Sable hops up next to me and extends a tentative white paw, batting gently at the fringe of tiny pompoms on the hem of Livvy’s dress. I praise him until his rusty purr starts up and I get a whiff of his breath. It smells like a sewer bursting. Sweet baby Jesus.
“Daddy, you gave him an oatmeal cookie, didn’t you?”
Daddy crosses his heart. “I swear I didn’t. Although I also admit that I didn’t put the plate in the fridge, either.”
There were at least three oatmeal cookies on the plate when Daddy carried me upstairs last night. There weren’t any left when I put it in the dishwasher while I was making breakfast. I glare at my cat. He freezes with his paw in mid-air.
Livvy suddenly rips out a fart. The first sound she’s made today.
Daddy chuckles.
“Are you sympathetically stinky, baby?” I ask Livvy.
The smell hits us both and Daddy begins to guffaw. Men and bodily functions, I swear.
“Goodness gracious! We’re doing a diaper check after that one, Livvy-bit,” I tell the baby.
She grins.
“I see you inherit your sense of humor from Daddy.”
Once she’s in a fresh diaper, I bundle Livvy up and pop her in her stroller for the walk to Brenna’s shop. I leave Daddy in his office, planning something nefarious with Max. Sable follows me to the front door, meowing.
“Do you want to take a walk, boy? Might help your tummy.” I retrieve the walking harness that Daddy got for Sable. My kitty takes one look at it, hisses, and darts under the couch.
“I think that’s a no,” I tell Livvy, hanging the harness on the coat rack. I’ve tried putting it on Sable to wear around the house a few times. It’s gotten me the same reaction. Bren says he has separation anxiety and doesn’t like me leaving the house but he won’t come with me. I just don’t think he’s a kitty who goes on walks.
Livvy waves her mittened fists at me noiselessly. I offer her a paci but she spits it out and watches me gravely.
“It’s like that today, is it, baby-boo?” I ask, shrugging into my coat. “Should we have a quiet day or would you like me to sing to you? I have to warn you that my voice isn’t nearly as good as Daddy’s.”
Big eyes from the silent baby.
I start humming the first song that comes to mind as I carry her stroller down the front steps and steer it onto the sidewalk. It’s “The Bare Necessities.” I don’t know why my mind’s picked that to be our theme song for today but I know all the words and sing softly as I wheel the stroller down East Second Street.
When I get to the corner and pause for the light, breaking into the chorus, I hear a little giggle from the stroller.
Grinning, I up the volume and ignore the strange looks I get from the pedestrians I pass. A gray-haired gentleman waiting for the light at the corner of Tompkins Square Park sings along with me for a moment. I smile and wave at him when I steer the stroller into the park and around the basketball court. I’ve noticed girls playing more and more recently and I want Livvy to see girls playing sports from an early age, so I stop for a minute and let her watch. I don’t think she can see details at that distance but her eyes do follow the play down the court, so maybe she can see movement or color or something.
Before we leave the park, I check to make sure Livvy’s fingers and toes are toasty and offer her a paci again, which she spits out.
“Is it the silent treatment today, Livvy?” I ask her. “Have I done so very wrong?”
She grins at me but still not a coo or a burble.
We head out again, into a wind that bites at my cheeks and carries the smell of snow over the city’s exhaust and concrete odors.
“Wouldn’t a white Christmas be cool for your first Christmas?” I ask the baby rhetorically, then break into “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” which wins me a tiny coo. Happy that I’ve snared the baby with Bing, I segue into “The Little Drummer Boy” as I turn the corner and see Bren’s sign in the distance. She had it repaired and repainted after it was smashed by the baddies who stole her design book and tried to shut her down. It proudly proclaims “Missing Ink” in neon to everyone who passes by.
There’s a small group of people waiting at the shop’s front door. It’s mixed adults and children, including two babies, which makes me smile. Livvy will have company. Master Mac’s daycare filled up shockingly quickly considering he didn’t advertise. Brenna’s tattooist enrolled her littlest and told her friends. Before Master Mac could blink, all eight places were filled and he had a double-digit waiting list.
When I join the group waiting at the door, Livvy lets out an ear-piercing wail.
I rush to soothe her. A woman pushes through the crowd and stands over the stroller. For a moment, I think she’s going to help me.
Then I look up into her cornflower blue eyes.
I stand up quickly and pull the stroller back two steps. Livvy screams.
“Miranda.”
Her eyes are fixed on the wailing baby. “She needs me.”
I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t. She’s fine.”
Miranda clutches her leather-gloved hands to her chest, rubbing. “She needs her mother to nurse her. Don’t keep me from my baby.”
Her words ripple through the crowd and a lot of eyes turn toward us. They’re not friendly eyes.
I have five panic buttons within reach, because Daddy is who he is. And I’ll be getting a text any second asking if I’m okay because of the heart rate monitor. If I summon him, he’d be here in ten minutes. Or less, knowing Daddy. Brenna’s just on the other side of the shop door and Master Mac’s upstairs. Help’s in easy reach.
But I don’t need their help. I take out Livvy’s paci and give it to her. Thank goodness she accepts it this time and sucks on it tearfully. I straighten my spine, keeping my hand on the stroller handle, positioning my body between Miranda and the baby.
“Logan told you to stay away, Miranda,” I say. “He has full custody and he doesn’t want you near Livvy.”
She blinks those big blue eyes and tears roll down her cheeks. “Emily, you’re a woman. You know he’s being a monster. I’m her mother. Please, let me hold her. Let me nurse her. I’m in so much pain without her.”
I swallow hard, because it does feel a little cruel to block Miranda completely from Livvy’s life. But that’s the rule and I obey Daddy’s rules.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. No. Daddy told you no. I’m telling you no. You’re not allowed near Livvy or me. You should leave.”
It’s only after the words are out of my mouth that I realize I’ve called Logan “Daddy” in public. In front of a group of people entrusting their children to Daddy’s friend. But I don’t try to take it back. Logan is my Daddy. I won’t let Miranda kink-shame me.
Miranda cries, big gasping sobs that seem fake to me but there’s no way I’m going to accuse her of acting. Not in front of this crowd that could so easily swing against me. I totally understand how Shannie felt. This situation is teetering, dangerous. My breath is coming in small pants and I feel like crying, too. But I don’t. I’m a fierce, white dragon standing tall, protecting my baby dragon. I’m not scared of the Mir-witch. She can’t hurt me. Her tears are fake. Her words are lies.
“I think you should go, Miranda,” I say.
With a rattle, the door on the other side of the crowd bursts open. Brenna rushes out onto the sidewalk in a flurry of bright blue dreadlocks and oxblood leather.
“Miranda, get the hell out of here,” Bren growls.
Miranda blots at her wet cheeks with the backs of her gloves before holding them up in surrender. “I just want to see my baby.”
“You saw her,” Brenna says, her low voice going even lower. She almost sounds like Daddy. She herds people into her shop, even though all eyes remain riveted on our little drama. “Now go. And if I find you loitering near my place of business again, I’ll call the cops.”
“No, there’s no need,” Miranda says, blinking and talking in a low, sweet tone. Like she’s the victim trying to soothe the crazy tattooed bully. “I’ll go. I’m not trying to make trouble. I just wanted to see my baby.”
She backs up a few steps but it doesn’t look like she’s actually going anywhere. Certainly not fast. Bren makes it to me, grabs me with one hand and the stroller handle with the other, and pulls us into the shop. She shuts the door firmly.
I sigh and let the colorful, familiar interior calm me. Brenna grabs me and hugs me hard. “You okay?”
I hug her back, then bend over to check on Livvy. She’s sucking on her paci, looking around with interest. No tears. When she sees my face, she wriggles and waves her fists at me.
I unbuckle her from the stroller and hug her. She wasn’t at risk and she isn’t really my baby but I need to hug her, so I do.
“She’s psychic,” I tell Bren.
“Huh?”
“She’s been quiet all morning. She knew this was coming.”
Bren tilts her head to look at me. “Sure.”
“Just go with it. Psychic Baby.”
“Qu’est-ce que c’est. Fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, better run-run-run-run-run-run-run away,” Bren sing-songs.
I shake my head at her. “That’s Psycho Killer.”
“Same thing,” Bren says, slinging her arm around my shoulder.
She snags the stroller and pulls it after us as she leads me through her shop and upstairs into what used to be her apartment. Master Mac’s daughter is living in it now and what used to be a living room with big storage spaces has been opened up and transformed into Master Mac’s daycare. Bren’s painted bright murals on the walls. There are play mats on the floor, a row of swings for the babies, a quiet tent for naps and time-outs, and a big, central table piled with coloring supplies where the first activity of the day is set out, ready for the kids who are already circling the table like tiny vultures.
Mac and his daughter, Naomi, are smiling, talking to the parents as they sign in their kids on a big white-board mounted on the wall near the door. Naomi’s already got a baby in her arms and the excited squealing filling the room makes up for Livvy’s silence.
I stay for a while, making sure Livvy’s settled, helping Naomi sort out bottles for the babies’ mid-morning feeding. The other two babies are older than Livvy. One’s already crawling a little. Mac organizes the kids like a military unit, which is no surprise, and gets the three who don’t want to color playing a game of “Simon Says” that has everyone giggling.
I don’t realize Bren’s waiting for me until Naomi takes Livvy out of my arms and casts a pointed glance at the door. I startle and trot over to her. She wraps her arm around my shoulders.
“Come downstairs and have a cup of coffee with me.”
“Tea.”
She rolls her eyes. “Tea.”
I wave to Naomi and Mac and let Bren escort me downstairs.
“Was I hovering?” I ask her.
“Like a stealth bomber.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.” Bren nudges me toward her office chair. She casts a longing glance at the fancy coffee machine Mac bought her before she starts up the little electric kettle in the corner of her office. “I just want to make sure you’re okay after that confrontation with Bitch-face.”
I pinch my lips between my teeth to keep from giggling at her name for Miranda. Daddy would not approve.
“I’m okay,” I say honestly. Would I be okay if Daddy and I hadn’t worked so hard on my insecurities? If he hadn’t made the rules so clear the other night? Maybe not. But I’m unshakable in Daddy’s love.
“You looked like a goddamn Valkyrie standing between Miranda and that stroller. Everyone who saw you was scared of you.”
I don’t think Miranda was scared of me but I did feel fierce.
“Is it wrong for me to feel a little sorry for her?” I ask.
Bren hands me a steaming mug and perches on the edge of the desk. “Look, we all love your empathy, Em but I think it’s wasted on the Mir-bitch. She absolutely would not have had any for you if things had gone the other way.”
“I know.” I blow on my tea to cool it before taking a sip. Ouch, still too hot. “I just can’t imagine how she’s feeling. She’s lost everything.”
“She deserves it.”
“Right,” I agree. “But I just worry a little about what losing everything might drive her to.”
“It might drive her to taking a good look at where her bad decisions have led her and turning her shit around. Although personally, I don’t see that happening. People like her won’t ever see themselves as being in the wrong.”
I wrinkle my nose, unable to imagine that level of certainty. Maybe that’s how Daddy feels? I’ll have to ask him but I don’t think so. Daddy asks for input on too many of his decisions to have that level of certitude.
“You didn’t look in need of rescuing,” Bren says. “But I’ve got your back. If you need me to kick Miranda’s ass, just say the word.”
I giggle at the thought. “I don’t think so. Daddy wouldn’t approve.”
“Actually, he was fine with it.”
Daddy agreed to physical violence? The spot in my chest that’s been warm since I looked up into Miranda’s blue eyes and felt serene and confident in my Daddy’s love warms a little more.
“Well, it’s not necessary,” I assure Bren. “I had it covered.”
“I saw.” She leans over and tinks her cup against mine. “You handled that bitch like a boss. Proud of you.”
My eyes sting and I blink the sensation away. “You are?”
“Sure.” Bren shrugs. “I’ve had my own run ins with exes from Hell. Mac’s ex is in the running for world’s biggest bitch. I’ve had more than one unfriendly conversation with her. But I wasn’t constrained by the rules you live with. And I knew if Amy got really up in my face, one good right hook would knock her right off her Louboutins. Miranda’s got five inches and probably twenty-five pounds on you. I’m not saying you couldn’t take her but I’d need to get you working on a bag for a couple of weeks first.”
I giggle at the thought. “Bruiser baby.”
Bren snorts. “Anyway, you dealt with her well and I know it can’t have been easy, so good job, and if you ever need backup, call me. I got you, babe.”
“Thanks.”
I stay until Bren has to get ready for her first client, chatting about the book we’re doing together, my ongoing war with Master Mac for control of the kitchen, and a scene Bren’s salivating about that Mac’s promised her. It’s a full-on abduction and cage scene. Mac’s planning it for the weekend before Thanksgiving and Bren’s vibrating with anticipation.
I walk briskly back through the East Village. It’s gotten cold and even though I’m wrapped up well in a coat, gloves, and scarf, the wind stings my cheeks and makes the tip of my nose go numb.
While I walk, I think over the confrontation with Miranda. I always overthink things like this, turning them over in my mind for days, coming up with comebacks that didn’t even occur to me in the moment.
But today, there’s nothing that makes me prickle with embarrassment. There’s nothing I would have done differently if I had a do-over.
When I walk into the house, I hear Daddy still on the phone with Max. I take off my clothes, fold them, and leave them on the rack by the door. Then I walk into Daddy’s office and kneel by his chair.
“Uh, I think that’s it for now, Max,” Daddy says.
I smile to myself at the sudden gruffness of his voice. Daddy likes seeing me naked and kneeling.
“Emmy just come in and take her clothes off?” Max asks.
I giggle.
“Bye, mate,” Daddy says. “Email me with anything else.”
“Will do.” Max chuckles as he hangs up.
Daddy swivels in his chair and puts his big, bare feet on either side of my knees. His warm hand settles on the top of my head.
“Hello, baby.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Something you want to tell me?”
“Um-hmm. Miranda was waiting for me outside Bren’s shop. I told her to go away. She did. Livvy’s a psychic baby.”
“She, um, did you say Livvy’s psychic?”
“I did. I mean, how else do you account for her being so quiet this morning? As soon as she saw Miranda, she began crying, which is probably because she still identifies Miranda with nursing and babies cry to get the attention of the person nursing them but still, totally psychic.”
“Okay, we’ll come back to that. Tell me how seeing Miranda made you feel, baby doll.”
“Warm.”
“Warm? Could you explain that a little more?”
“My chest felt warm. Little bit adrenaline. Lots knowing I was safe and loved and she couldn’t hurt me or Livvy.”
“Baby,” Logan breathes. He pats his thighs. “Come up. Daddy needs to hold you.”
I climb up into his lap and wrap myself around him.
“I hate that she confronted you,” Daddy murmurs to me, tucking my face into his neck.
I snuggle into him, taking big sniffs of his clean clothes and Wolfy Daddy aftershave. “I know but I wasn’t scared. I thought about how you were just a button away. If I’d yelled, Bren would have come to help me. But I didn’t need it. I was a strong white dragon protecting my ... um, protecting my dragon-kin.”
“Oh, baby girl, I love that so much.” Daddy squeezes me tight. “That’s a good visualization. You are a strong white dragon. You were safe. You are loved.”
“She doesn’t scare me anymore.”
“I’m sorry she ever did. Did she say anything awful?”
I shake my head, nuzzling in. “Nope, just asked me to let her nurse her baby. She said Livvy needed her. But she doesn’t. Livvy’s safe and loved, too. She’s getting every immunological advantage. I felt strong saying no.”
“The only thing Miranda offers is instability and neglect, sweetheart. I hope you know that.”
I rub my palm up and down the smooth cotton of his nice sweater. “I believe that, Daddy. You haven’t told me what you had on her that got you custody and I’m okay with not knowing. I know you have good reasons for not telling me. But I also know it must have been awful and it must have had something to do with her fitness as a parent to convince the judge to give you full custody. I feel sorry for her but I also know you’ve done the right thing getting Livvy away from her.”
“Emmy, your belief in me is everything,” Daddy chokes. “It humbles me.” He holds me in silence for a long moment. “If you want me to tell you what I used to get custody of Livvy I will but I honestly don’t want those thoughts in your head, baby.”
“Nope, I’m good.”
He sighs. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so proud of you. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”
“Samesies, Daddy.”
He chuckles. “What reward can I give my little wonder, hmm? Would you like a good girl pussy spanking now and a big scene tomorrow night at Blunts?”
I bounce in his lap. “Always up for those, Daddy.”
“That’s my enthusiastic little girl. Let me clear off the desk, then my amazing little love is going to bend over and get her ass up so Daddy has a good, clear target.”
“Yes, Daddy!”
Laughing, soft and wicked, Daddy helps me off his lap and starts moving everything off his desk.