Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
ADELINE
Clover Rose Siska loves her daddy.
We came home from the hospital two days ago, and she’s already managed to wrap Damon around her finger.
I lean my shoulder against the nursery door frame, watching Damon pick up our little girl out of her crib and cradle her in his arms. He takes her to where he usually does—the lounger he found at the baby store that he was obsessed with. As he sits, he notices me in the doorway.
“I got this one. Go get some sleep.”
I step in and sit gently on the floor, still a little tender. “I’m already up.” Plus, I love watching him with her, but I won’t say that.
I know I should be tired, but I feel as if I’m wired on some energy drink.
My mom swears the exhaustion will come. It probably doesn’t help that Damon’s parents and brother are coming tomorrow to meet Clover.
I’m nervous because I never used the interior designer, opting to do it with Damon.
We actually make a pretty good team—better than I would have thought.
His eyes never leave Clover’s. He’s mastered the swaddle already, and I worry that maybe he’s a more natural parent than I am. He even managed to figure out how to open that damn stroller with one hand.
“All the other parents think they have a beautiful baby, but that’s just because they haven’t seen ours,” he says in what I’ve come to think of as his baby voice. He’s smirking at Clover. God, I love that smirk.
“Good genes, I suppose.”
“Mine might have won out a little more.” He laughs and winks at me. Clover squirms in his arms as if she doesn’t like him flirting with other women. “I’m kidding. She takes after her mommy, obviously.”
I blush at his compliment.
“Oh, she’s making those sucking lips,” he says. “Good thing you woke up.”
Now my anxiety ramps up. I’ve yet to be able to produce enough milk to breastfeed her, so I’ve had to supplement with formula.
I stand and head over to change positions with him, my heart already beating out of control from my nerves. He hands her to me, and we’re still perfecting the exchange, so we laugh, not knowing which way the other person is going with their arms.
“I’ll go make a bottle,” he says and walks downstairs.
“Just you and me, baby girl.” I rock her a little, but she’s already arching for my breasts. “We can do this, right? One day soon I’ll have enough for you.”
It’s the one area where I feel as if I’m failing us.
I know how important it is to breastfeed.
Everyone’s been nice about it—the nurses and my mom and Damon especially—but I can’t help but worry.
They all said the more I stress, the worse it might become, but I cannot stop myself from fixating on it.
I unbutton my pajama blouse and slide over one side of my bra. She attaches easily, and I relax in the chair as she suckles, but I never have that overfull feeling like I need to release milk.
Damon comes in with a warm bottle. “How’s it going?”
“She’ll probably start screaming in a second.”
He gives me the same look as he always does. The small purse of his lips as if he’s apologizing for the fact my body is failing us.
As I predicted, she stops sucking and cries. I pick her up and pat her back to get her to burp before we give her the bottle.
“If you want me to feed her, I can.” Damon sets the bottle on the table next to the chair, and I catch him staring at my tit.
“What are you looking at?”
“You can’t expect me not to look. Plus, I kind of wondered if it was going to look… different?” His gaze doesn’t move from my breast.
“We’re not doing that ‘you get a taste’ thing. Breast milk isn’t your kink, is it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. This is my first opportunity to find out.”
“Damon!”
He chuckles, and Clover relaxes in my arms. She feeds off her dad’s energy. I swear I think she’s going to have his personality more than mine.
“I had to lighten up the mood. Adeline, everyone said there’s nothing you can do. I was a formula baby, and look how I turned out.” He holds his arms out at his sides. “You know how perfect I am.”
I laugh. I always appreciate it when he lightens the mood.
When I lower Clover back down and feed her the bottle, she quickly starts sucking again. Damon takes my spot on the floor by the door, his back resting along the wall, his knees propped up as he watches her.
“Go back to bed,” I say.
He shakes his head. There’s something going on in that beautiful head of his that he’s not sharing. I’m afraid to pry, afraid of what I might find out. So we sit in silence and feed our baby.
The next afternoon, Damon’s sitting on the couch, Clover in her bassinet next to him, while he watches the Colts baseball game.
“We could be on the rooftop right now,” he says absentmindedly, reminding me that he has a very different life than mine. At least he did. He’s become so much a part of my life as of late, I can’t imagine either of us just going back to our old ones.
“With Clover, I’m sure that would be fun,” I say, arranging a veggie tray for his parents and brother, who will be here soon.
I spent most of the morning making dips and appetizers.
My mom is bringing over lasagna. His dad isn’t my biggest fan, and now his brother is coming too, whom I’ve never met, so nervous doesn’t aptly describe how I’m feeling.
“She’ll grow up going to a lot of sporting events. I’m thinking by next year, she can go to a football game, right?”
“Sure, do you think they’ll be okay with her being on the sidelines with you?”
I turn toward him, and he shakes his head. “Smartass.”
“Do you want to hold a sixteen-month-old on your lap for an entire game?”
He stands and heads my way, grabs a carrot, dips it, and chomps down on it. “Give me some credit, I’d get a box for my girls.” He winks.
“How sweet.” I ignore the way my chest warms when he refers to Clover and me as his girls.
His hands land on my hips from behind me, and he leans down. “Relax, it’s just my parents.”
“Your very rich parents.” I finish arranging the tray to my liking.
“Speaking of…” He stares out the front window. “They’re here, honey,” he says, in a voice as though we’re a couple, and this is something we do all the time.
I’d feel so much better if my mom and dad were already here, but she’s cooking the lasagna at her house, so mine won’t be full of smoke if the sauce drips on the bottom of the oven.
Walking over, I see his family through the front window climbing out of a black SUV with tinted windows. “That’s Ollie? Wow, you can tell you’re brothers.”
Damon scowls at me. “What did I ever do to you?” Then he opens the door.
His mom kisses his cheek and comes over and hugs me. “Hi, Adeline. Where is she?” She pulls away and scans behind me.
“The bassinet. She’s sleeping.”
Heather rushes over, stopping at the coffee table to put on some sanitizer from the bottle there, and she picks up Clover. Okay then.
“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful,” she coos. “Come look, Stanley.”
“You’re living here?” Ollie asks when he comes into the house.
“Yes, dipshit, and don’t say anything,” Damon says in a low voice, but I still hear him.
Ollie walks into the room. His entire persona screams, “I have money.” His loafers and sweater have matching logos I’m not familiar with, but I’m sure they are some uber-expensive designer brand. His dark-blond hair is perfectly styled, not a hair out of place.
I definitely prefer my Siska.
Ollie holds up both hands. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s cute in here.”
Damon mouths sorry at me and shuts the door.
“She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” Stanley says, having bypassed me and gone straight over to the baby.
I’m not sure if Heather is going to give her up or if Stanley even wants to hold her.
“Ollie, come look at your niece,” Heather says.
He walks over and peers into his mom’s arms. “She’s too pretty to be Damon’s.” He laughs and comes over to the table. “Catered or homemade?”
Seriously, this guy is a dick.
“Homemade. You’ll have to slum it.” I give him my best version of a serene smile.
Ollie laughs at me, pointing his half-eaten green pepper my way. “I like you. I bet you give him a run for his money. He needs that. God knows from what I heard, Greta never did it.”
Greta? Who’s Greta?
The doorbell rings, and I’m thankful to see my mom in the window.
Damon opens the door, and she shoves the covered lasagna with a towel on the bottom into his hands. “Warm it until we’re ready to eat.”
My dad follows her in with fresh bakery bread in hand, and he and Damon go into the kitchen. My mom rushes over to sit by Heather on the couch, putting hand sanitizer on as if telling Heather my turn. Unable to deal with that, I go into the kitchen.
“We’ve got this. Go enjoy our company.” Damon puts the oven on warm and places the lasagna inside.
“It’s almost her feeding time,” I say, warming a bottle to keep myself out of that room.
I’m not a huge fan of his dad, and now I’ve added his brother to my shit list.
But the bottle doesn’t take long to get ready. I’m still struggling through this breastfeeding thing, but I’m pumping as much as I can and supplementing with formula.
I go into my family room and sit in the chair.
“Bottles?” Heather asks, and I open my mouth, hoping I can answer without animosity.
“Yeah, Adeline works, and I really want to feed the baby too. We decided this is what’s best for us,” Damon says.
I look at him, wondering why he told her that. To protect my feelings?
“Look at Mr. Domestic here. Maybe you can get a pair of fake tits to wear to feed the baby, like in that one movie.” Ollie laughs, and Stanley stares at him as though he’s ready to murder his youngest son.
“I didn’t breastfeed. I had Damon early, he couldn’t attach, and my milk just never came in.” Heather gives me a sympathetic look, as if she knows her son well enough to know he made up an excuse for me and doesn’t want me to feel bad.
“Damon, not knowing what to do with a nipple? He sure made up for lost time with that.” Ollie again can’t read the room because no one laughs at his joke.
“And Ollie was so feisty, I was afraid to let him near my nipple,” Heather says, giving her son a pointed glare.
Damon laughs hysterically and shoves his brother into the wall when he walks by him toward the food.
“So, you’re living here?” Stanley asks Damon.
“Yep,” Damon says, keeping his voice light.
“And the apartment downtown?” His dad arches an eyebrow, and it reminds me of how I’ve seen Damon do the same a time or two.
“I still have it. I’ll have to live there during the season. The commute would kill me.”
I’ve been so occupied with Clover that I haven’t thought that far ahead. In the days since Clover has been home, I’ve only been thinking hour by hour. I haven’t thought about what happens when Damon starts playing again. When he’s traveling to out-of-town games.
I stare at Clover in Heather’s arms, and realization washes over me like a warm shower.
I’m basically a single mother. Damon and I aren’t a couple.
He’s going to start the season, sleep with women, and go out to clubs.
He’ll see Clover on maybe his one day off during the week, and we’re going to coexist as Clover’s parents who are not together.
These past few months are not our reality. We’ve been in our own little bubble, and I’ve grown way too used to Damon being here with me, forgetting that in a couple of months, it will all be on me.
Every one of those insecurities I had when I first found out I was pregnant flood back. Only this time, I know what I’ll be missing.