Chapter 3 Bunny Slippers
BUNNY SLIPPERS
DELILAH
For a brief second, I don’t have a care in the world. The room is dark, warm, and it’s nice to be wrapped in such soft blankets. I blink a few times, stretching my muscles, but then it hits me.
Bar. Strange guy. Woman in bunny slippers. Lulu.
I leap out of bed like a superhero, and all tiredness and comfort leave me in an instant. I race out of the bedroom, peering in every room as I run down the hallway and grip my chest, trying like hell not to lose my mind.
Don’t overreact. I inhale slowly, telling myself she’s perfectly fine.
If Lulu’s gone, I will tear apart the entire city and bring the wrath of God down on these people. I’m flooded with guilt at the fact that I fell asleep, leaving my baby vulnerable and without my protection in the presence of complete strangers.
How could I have been so irresponsible and stupid?
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I see the guy from last night, holding Lulu and whispering in her ear. I stop dead, watching the two of them from the hallway.
Seeing Lulu being held in a man’s arms does something to me I hadn’t expected.
When her father skipped out, leaving me high and dry six months into my pregnancy, I told myself good riddance.
Who needed him anyway? We sure didn’t. But somewhere deep in my heart, I knew Lulu would be missing out on something special.
Not that Dwight Jones, the spineless, tiny-dicked man who’d knocked me up, was a prize, but still—she needed a male figure in her life.
My father was worthless. No. He was less than that, and I turned out okay, after all. But there have been so many times in my life when I wished I had a real dad…someone who would treat me like a little princess and make me feel like his number one.
Instead, I had a drunken asshole who left me on the side of the road with his granddaughter and not a penny to my name.
My eyes fill with tears as I watch Lucio and Lulu together. He’s so sweet and tender with her, and it’s probably the first time I’ve seen a man be that way with Lulu in her short little life. I slap my hand over my mouth when I feel the sob crawling up the back of my throat.
Lulu’s staring up at him, sucking on her bottle and completely captivated by the man. I don’t blame her either. He’s dreamy in a blue-collar beefcake kind of way.
Last night, he was wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved white dress shirt, but I barely noticed much about him besides his size. But in the light, with Lulu in his arms, I can see his entire upper body clear as freaking day.
Damn.
His torso and arms are covered with ink. The pictures on his skin almost dance with each movement of the muscles underneath. I’ve never really been into guys with tattoos, but on him, they are absolutely perfect. I grip the wall, trying to keep myself vertical as my knees start to go weak.
Get yourself together, woman. It’s just a guy holding your kid.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he says, bouncing her up and down in one arm as he sets the bottle on the table.
I take a step back, still holding the wall, and I’m careful not to make a sound. I can’t stop the stupid smile on my face from spreading as I wipe away my tears.
He places his ankle on top of the opposite leg, creating a little pocket before placing Lulu in between his huge thigh muscles. “So beautiful like your mommy.”
Heat creeps up my chest, and I fumble with the collar on my T-shirt. It’s been ages since anyone has called me beautiful and even longer since I’d felt that way. I’m too busy in mom-mode with a messy bun, no makeup, and smelling like rotten formula to think I’m even remotely pretty.
I never thought being a mother would be easy, but I didn’t think it would be this hard either.
There’s nothing in the world which could’ve prepared me for the lack of sleep.
And don’t even get me started on the stretch marks lining my body like a topographic map.
I don’t have time to worry about the way my body has gone to shit and how my tits are unrecognizable after Lulu fed off them for the first three months of her life.
Lucio takes a sip of his coffee, still carefully bouncing her, but keeping a close eye on her.
I want to rush in and tell him to burp her, but he seems to have things under control.
I don’t know why I don’t step forward and snatch my kid away from his muscular legs which are probably harder than the wood beneath my feet, but I don’t.
Lulu makes a little noise, reaching upward and blowing spit bubbles tinted white from the formula at him.
He laughs and scoops her in one arm, holding her tiny head in his giant palm, and places her on his shoulder.
He does everything so gracefully that I can’t stop myself from watching in amazement and a little in awe.
He sets his coffee aside and gently rubs her back, tapping her a few times.
I want to tell him to watch out because Lulu is a world-class puker.
She doesn’t just burp. Nope. Not my kid.
She’s ruined more outfits than I care to remember, and her baby formula has become my new perfume, which is something I’m not entirely proud of either.
Lulu lets out a burp that’s so loud, Lucio starts to laugh, but then it happens.
As if everything is moving in slow motion, the burp turns liquid, and a pretty big splash of formula vomit lands on his shoulder before dribbling down his back.
I cringe, waiting for the moment when he loses his shit.
I mean, here’s this hot-as-fuck guy, covered in muscles and tattoos, trying to do me a favor and taking care of a kid who isn’t even his, and she pukes on him.
“Well, aren’t you a messy little princess?” he says, his laughter getting a bit louder when he brings her face-to-face with him. He’s holding her with ease like she doesn’t weigh more than a sack of potatoes, and using one finger, he wipes away the formula left near her mouth. “Feel better?”
God, why does he have to be so freaking hot holding her?
The blush that had started moments ago has now turned into a full-blown furnace, radiating from the inside out.
I haven’t wanted to touch a man since Dwight left town, but Lucio, the hottie with my kid, makes my hands itchy to reach out and touch him.
It doesn’t matter that he’s covered in Lulu’s throw-up. I’d happily help him get clean.
Stop being a whore.
The words my father had said to me when he found out I was pregnant echo in my mind as I let my thoughts wander to dirty and dark places about the handsome stranger in front of me.
Betty, the lady with the bunny slippers from last night, walks through the front door, going right to Lulu and Lucio. “Delilah still sleeping?”
“Yeah, Ma,” he tells her. “Want me to wake her?”
“You will do no such thing. A mother needs her sleep, and besides—” Betty leans forward and grabs Lulu out of Lucio’s arms “—look at this darling face. I could give her a million kisses.”
“Ma, she’s not yours.”
“She could be. I need some more grandkids, honey. I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you.
” She gives him a funny look, and I cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing.
“Why don’t you settle down with a girl like Delilah?
You’d already have a head start in the grandbaby department, and it would make you my favorite child. ”
“Ma.”
“Lucio.”
“Ma, come on. A girl as pretty as her, she probably has a husband, and it doesn’t work that way. If I dated her, that doesn’t mean this is your grandbaby by default.”
“If you were her man, would you let her be out on her own that late at night? And besides, blood isn’t required to be a family. You bring her in, and they’re both my kin.”
I don’t know why, but the floodgates open, and tears start streaming down my face like a torrential downpour.
No one in my family talks this way about each other, let alone about complete strangers.
Even with my father and me sharing the same blood, he treats me, and Lulu too, like trash.
My mother is no better after running off with a guy half her age, never to be heard from again.
“She’s a rich girl. Why would she want some schmuck from the South Side?”
“You’re handsome, and don’t even get me started on your heart. Anyway, money doesn’t matter when it comes to love.”
“You’re crazy,” he tells her as she gives Lulu a soft kiss on the forehead.
“You keep dating these cheap and easy bimbos who are more interested in what you can buy for them than they are in you, honey, and you deserve better than that.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans forward, resting one elbow on his knee. “What am I supposed to do? Just ask her out?”
“Yes, son. It’s that easy.”
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Is he really going to ask me out because his mom told him to? Does that mean he wants to, or is he being strong-armed by his bunny-loving red-haired mother?
I don’t want a pity date, not even from the hot, shirtless guy holding my baby.
I step backward, heading toward the bathroom, leaving Lulu with them for a moment while I try to pull myself together.
When I get in front of the mirror, I look worse than I ever could’ve imagined.
My normally tame locks are a hot mess and tangled, the little bit of mascara I managed to wear last night is smeared down my face, making me look like something straight out of a horror movie.
On top of that, all the sleep I got last night did nothing to alleviate the bags under my eyes.
Quickly, I scrub my face, grab some toothpaste and use my finger as the brush, and try to pull myself together, making myself as presentable as possible. I am officially lame. I’ve done this routine before, but usually after a night of hot sex. Never after falling asleep because I was exhausted.