Chapter 9
9
Giselle
“O h, my gosh,” Eve burst into my room. “Giselle, I need your help. Oh, my gosh!” she was panicked.
I sat up in bed as she rushed across the room to the bassinet. She deposited the baby in there and ran to my side of the bed.
“I was holding Theo, and he reached down and touched a hot pan. His little hand is fried. I have to take him to the emergency room. Nick is an hour away, but he’s leaving now to meet me at the hospital. I’ll take the kids with me. But I can’t take Marcello.”
I gazed over at the baby—and then it finally computed.
She wanted me to look after the baby.
My eyes grew wide, and I shook my head. “No, I can’t. You have to take him.”
She looked out the door and then back at me. “Carlo said he’s twenty minutes away. You can do twenty minutes, Giselle. He’ll probably just sleep, anyway. I’m sorry, I have to go. Now.”
And then she sprinted out of my bedroom, not even shutting the door behind her.
I sighed and got up. My pain was better, but it wasn’t all gone.
I walked over and shut the door. I didn’t like the security guy being able to see inside.
Then I turned and looked right at the bassinet.
I tiptoed over like it was a bomb getting ready to detonate.
Which, he kind of was.
From the sound of things, he wasn’t exactly the easiest of babies. Which was too bad. Dani had been such an easy baby. It must be the lumberjack genes in him.
His face was so peaceful. A small smile playing on his full lips.
Hmm.
My lips.
And I think he might have my nose, too. I moved my head to look at him from another direction.
His head had rounded out nicely. When he came out, it looked more like a torpedo than a human skull. That was a blessing to me, though. Pushing ten pounds of lumberjack baby out didn’t need to be any harder than it had been.
I looked into the bathroom and saw one of the five gift baskets that Eve had brought in. The latest one had an assortment of hair products that I loved.
I reached up and touched my hair.
Was it matted?
Shit.
When was the last time I put a brush through it?
There was a jar of top-notch hair treatment in that basket. Maybe I should put it on?
Yeah.
If I didn’t do something soon to this hair, I was going to have to chop it all off.
I wandered into the bathroom and slid my hand inside the gift basket. I grabbed the hair treatment and opened it up.
I loved the smell of it.
Lavender.
I glooped a large amount of the treatment on my hair and walked back to check on the baby.
Yeah.
He definitely had my lips. He had Carlo’s forehead and cheekbones. And his hard chin.
That kid was going to be a real heartbreaker when he got older.
I had to wait a while for the hair treatment to penetrate my matted locks.
Hmm, maybe I should shave my legs?
Eve also bought me a basket of assorted soaps and razors. There was a new one in there that I hadn’t tried.
Carlo would be home soon.
And even if he wasn’t, I’d leave the bathroom door open. If the baby cried, I’d hear him.
I crept back to the bathroom and started the tub. Then I picked out a delicious smelling strawberry soap.
I took off my nightshirt and dropped it on the floor. Next, I removed my huge beige panties. They weren’t glamorous, but they got the job done.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—and I was shocked.
Other than my slicked back, greasy hair—I didn’t look toohorrible.
I still had a soft, saggy, mommy-tummy. I was only a few weeks postpartum. That took a while to change. For me it did, anyway.
But it wasn’t bad. I had actually snapped back a lot better than I’d thought.
And my breasts were—phenomenal. They were even bigger now. And wow—just wow.
I turned around and took a look at my behind.
Hmm.
Also, not bad.
From the back, I didn’t think anyone would be able to tell I’d just had a baby.
Huh.
“Not too shabby,” I told my reflection. Then I smiled and looked at my hair again. Yeah, I really needed to do something about that.
I pulled out a comb and started on the ends. The knots in my hair would hurt if I started anywhere else. “Ouch, shit,” I muttered, getting nowhere fast. All the comb did was drag and pull. And hurt.
I chucked the comb onto the counter and grabbed a brush instead.
That wasn’t much better. But at least it didn’t hurt as much. After I’d gotten every last knot and tangle out, I decided to give myself a trim. I pulled out the shears and cut an inch or two off. Just enough to get rid of the split ends.
After I looked my handiwork over, I let out a loud huffing sound.
I needed layers.
My hair looked like an overgrown lawn.
So, that was what did.
I cut long layers and short layers. Growing up, there had never been extra money for a good haircut. And the crap places always seemed to do more damage than good.
That was when I started teaching myself how to cut my own hair. There were plenty of videos out there. And I had some natural talent, but mostly it was born out of necessity.
Ten minutes later, the floor was covered in hair. And so was I.
The hair treatment had dripped down my shoulders, causing a lot of the hair to just stick to my body.
I resembled a Sasquatch of sorts.
It was pretty bad. Even still, I giggled out loud at the mess I’d created.
Whatever.
After I shaved my legs, I’d shower it all off.
And then I’d sweep up the floor.
I got into the tub and soaped up my legs. There were only a few inches of water in here. Just enough to shave with.
As soon as I soaped up my legs and picked up the razor—the baby started to cry.
I dropped the razor and sat there in shock.
Carlo wasn’t home yet.
Eve was gone.
Now, he was really crying. There was no way he’d stop and go back to sleep.
And I didn’t even have a bottle up here.
Dammit.
I pushed up out of the tub and carefully exited. I rushed into the bedroom and up to the bassinet.
The baby was mad.
Super mad.
His little face was all screwed up and red.
“It’s okay, your daddy will be here soon.” I rubbed his belly and tried to calm him.
It didn’t work.
He only cried more.
Dammit.
His tiny body felt warm and soft under my hand.
I slipped one hand under his back and one under his head.
“Oh, yuck,” I said, knowing exactly why he was crying. “I’ve heard tales of you being the blowout king. And I see that’s very true.”
I lifted him up to find a large yellow stain on the sheet.
“Well, your sister did this to me, too. I know how to fix it.”
I carried the stinky baby to the bathroom and laid a towel on the counter. Then I filled up the sink halfway with warm water. A few wet washcloths and a quick dip in the sink, and he was all fixed up.
As I was drying him off, I touched his soft, kicking legs. And his flailing arms.
He was angry at the situation he’d gotten himself into, but it didn’t bother me.
I was completely captivated by him. I hadn’t taken a good look at him after he’d been born.
Other than to verify that he was a he. That I’d given Carlo a son.
There was no time after that to look at him, though. Before I’d coded.
Anyway, this was really the first time I’d been able to look him over.
And he was beautiful.
The perfect mix of his parents. Our best attributes melded to make this human.
“I know you’re mad. But we’ll get a diaper on you and then go downstairs to warm up a bottle, okay?”
He didn’t seem to think highly of my plan.
“Shh, little baby. You’re okay.” I wrapped him up in a fluffy towel and carried him into the bedroom. Carlo kept a bunch of baby supplies on his side of the room, so I set the baby down on our bed and turned around to find a diaper and whatever butt cream he was using.
As I was putting the diaper on him, a lock of hair fell onto his bare belly, and I laughed. I picked it off and tossed it onto the floor. “Your father can clean that up later.” I giggled and scooped him up. And there I stood—naked. With greasy hair, covered in fallen hair from my impromptu haircut, and soaped up, unshaven legs.
That made me laugh even harder.
The baby immediately stopped crying and blinked at me. Then he blinked some more.
He was the sweetest.
It hit me that I’d have to get dressed to go downstairs. Or the security guys would get an eyeful.
But I started feeling a bit dizzy. I hadn’t spent this much time on my feet in weeks.
“Your momma needs to sit down for a minute.” I sat on the edge of the bed, holding him close to me.
He was quiet now. And very, very awake. He started turning his head to the side, and I knew what that meant. “You’re hungry, I know. I need a minute and then I’ll get dressed and we can go get a bottle for you.”
A knocking at the bedroom door startled me, and I gasped.
“Mrs. Sovrano. Are you all right in there? Do you need assistance?” a loud, deep voice asked through the door.
I twisted my torso around, took a deep breath, and answered back, “We’re okay. Thank you for checking.”
At that moment, I felt something touch my nipple. When I turned back around—the baby had found a faster way to get his own breakfast.
My first instinct was to pull him off me. And then tears I hadn’t known existed began falling down my cheeks. Big, hot, heavy tears.
And lots of them.
He nuzzled right onto where he needed to be.
And it was beautiful.
So beautiful.
My chin quivered, and I sobbed. “You are so beautiful. My baby. My son. Marcello,” I whispered his name like a prayer. And I offered it up to his grandfather, who I knew was watching over his grandson at this very moment.
My milk let down and the baby—my baby—started swallowing furiously to keep up. And he had no trouble at all doing that.
My son was hungry.
And I was feeding him.
He wanted me. My baby wanted me.
I couldn’t stop crying. But that was okay. These were happy tears.
My teardrops fell down my face and onto Marcello. He was a mess of hair and his mommy’s tears.
And it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Christ, what the fuck happened?” Carlo’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.
I looked up at his very concerned face. I sniffled and wiped my face with that back of my hand. Another clump of hair fell onto Marcello’s belly, and I made a weird laugh/cry/snorting sound. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
His eyes scoured over the two of us on the bed. Probably looking like we’d just been through a natural disaster.
And I guess, in a way—we had been.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
I smiled through my tears, my chin still quivering. “We’re really good. How are you?”
His eyebrows slowly rose on his forehead. “I’m good. Do you need anything?” he asked cautiously.
I nodded and answered right back, “I could use a sandwich. Please.”
His mouth opened, his strong jaw—the same jaw that his father had—fell open. “A sandwich?” he confirmed.
“Yeah, use the roast beef that Evie made last night. Extra mayo and mustard.”
Carlo gave us one more look-over. “I can do that.” And then he slowly walked out of the room, leaving me alone with our son.
Once Marcello was finished, I made sure to burp him before I laid him down in the bassinet.
I pulled it closer to the bed so I could watch him sleep.
He was so peaceful. So satisfied.
And it made my heart feel full.
Carlo walked in with a plate filled with a quickly made sandwich and a bunch of carrot sticks.
It looked divine.
He gazed at the baby and handed me the plate.
“Thanks, but can you help me shower? I’m feeling kind of dizzy, and I don’t want to fall.”
He took the plate from my hand and set it down on the bed.
Then he grabbed my hands and pulled me up.
“Thank Christ. I thought you might want to stay like this.”
That made me laugh so hard, I started crying all over again.
He bent down and lifted me into his arms. “You have no fucking idea how happy it makes me to hear you laugh again.” His lips touched mine. And when he pulled back, he had a lock of my hair stuck to his cheek.
I laughed even harder and wiped it away.
And then my big strong lumberjack carried me to the shower and washed my greasy, gloopy hair. After that, he washed my tender, swollen body. His hands felt wonderful over every inch of my body.
He didn’t make any sexual moves on me. But every time he touched me, I got a sensual zing through my body.
And afterward, he dried me off and used the blow dryer on my hair.
And I felt fantastic.
And clean.
And cherished.
He carried me back to our bed and tucked me in.
The whole time I ate my sandwich, he sat beside me, keeping his careful gaze on everything I was doing. When I offered him a bite of my sandwich, he bit into it and chewed. I watched his mouth move, and his throat bob as he swallowed.
And after I finished my sandwich, I shared my carrots with him.
And after that—Marcello woke up again. This time, he was only wet. Carlo changed him and said, “I’ll take him down for a bottle.”
But I shook my head and reached out for my baby. My sweet little baby. “No, I’ll take him.” My other breast was beginning to hurt. We could help each other out.
Carlo handed him to me, and just like before, Marcello latched on instantly. And I stared down at him the whole time he drank, my love pouring into him. And his absorbing into me.
It.
Was.
Beautiful.
When he was done, Carlo burped him for me. I snuggled into Carlo’s side and felt my eyes get droopy.
So, with a baby on his chest, and his arm around me—we all three drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
So peaceful.
So right.