Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Hadley
I so do not have this.
Tanner has been whining and crying for the last five minutes. I’ve tried the puff things. I’ve tried to feed him a jar of baby food.
“I get it. Chicken from a jar doesn’t sound, smell, or taste appealing,” I say to him as I pull out my phone, looking for some other food options that Tanner can eat.
Easton probably doesn’t have any of the other food items listed, but I’m dying to get this baby to be happy since Easton is due back in ten minutes.
“Eggs?” I say to Tanner, but that bottom lip of his will not stop quivering. “How about we forget food, and we’ll just play for a little while as I figure this out.”
I move my hands to unstrap him, but his little fists bang on the table of the high chair, the puffs bouncing around like little jacks.
“I don’t know what you want.” I wish he were older so he could tell me why he’s not happy. “Where’s that little smile?”
I pick up a puff and try to offer it to him, but he pushes away my hand.
I’ve done it all.
Activity mat, but he didn’t want to look at himself like Easton said he loves so much.
I tried to read him, but he squirmed in my lap.
I changed him, and I’m surprised he didn’t just jump off the changing table.
I played puppets with the stuffed animals. That worked for two minutes before he shook his head and started crying.
I’m failing and have no idea how to fix this.
I glance at the microwave clock and see that Easton should be here any minute. I need his baby not to be crying when he walks in the door.
“Okay, hang tight. I’m going to get some bananas, and then if Daddy has eggs, I’ll make you some scrambled eggs.” I walk away, and his whimpering turns into outright wailing.
It pulls at something in my chest to see his little tears slide down his cheeks.
I search the entire kitchen, but there’s no banana. Sure, there are baby food jars, but I feel as though if I bring out a jar, Tanner will flip his lid again. He wants something, and I have no idea what, even though it’s my job to know these things.
I open the fridge, and thankfully, there are eggs.
“Jackpot, little guy.” I hold up the carton. “You’re going to get something new.”
He doesn’t care—and why should he? He doesn’t even know what an egg is.
I search the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers as though I’m playing a game of lost and found until I have everything I need.
As I crack one egg, Tanner lets out a huge cry, and I close my eyes from the piercing wound that hits my ears. The door opens, and I freeze, seeing Easton in the doorway.
Foster peers over his shoulder from the hallway for a second, raises his eyebrows, and disappears up the stairs.
“We’re not a freak show. This is just a woman who doesn’t know how to calm down a crying baby,” I want to shout after him.
Although I’m sure Foster doesn’t come home to a crying Ellis and a panicked Callie.
I stop everything I’m doing and wait for Easton’s reaction.
He walks in, puts his bag on the floor, shuts the door, and toes off his shoes. I watch, waiting for him to yell at me, to ask me why the hell his kid is crying and why I’m not fixing it. I know I suck at this, and now he does too.
Easton slides by me and washes his hands at the kitchen sink without a word.
I think I’ll have to find myself a new husband to carry out this plan.
Then he goes over to Tanner, unbuckles him from his high chair, and pulls him out. Tanner’s head goes to his dad’s shoulder, and it’s the most endearing moment I’ve ever seen.
Easton’s hand runs down his son’s back, and he’s whispering something in his ear. Tanner’s body goes limp in his dad’s arms.
I feel completely inept. He should find someone trained for this kind of job. Someone with experience, not me.
Easton walks over to me.
I’ve abandoned cracking the eggs, in awe of the scene unfolding in front of me.
I never pictured Easton as a dad, but I’m not surprised he looks as though he was meant to be one. And an amazing one at that.
He rests his back along the counter, and his eyes meet mine. I armor myself with excuses for why he walked into his kid crying inconsolably. I’m ready to tell him everything I tried, but his lips curl into a smile.
“Bad day?”
“It was going well until about a half hour ago.”
“He’s always fussy around this time of day. Not sure why. I thought I was going to make it home before his meltdown. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
I crack an egg to keep myself busy.
“It’s okay, Hadley.”
“Jeez, you should not be consoling me right now.” I finish cracking the final egg, although I think four might be too much for a baby. I turn away from Easton and wash my hands. “You should find someone else.”
I hear him expel a breath. “No, I shouldn’t. It was day one. Day one is always the hardest.”
I grab a fork and scramble the eggs. I put a little butter in the pan, allowing it to melt. “Please do not give me a rah-rah speech.”
“Why shouldn’t I? This is the hardest job in the world. Did you expect to be an expert on day one?”
Our gazes collide as I turn to get the bowl of eggs. “I would’ve liked to have one thing just come easy for me.”
I turn away from him, hating that I said that. Admitting to being the failure I always feel like.
I’d have preferred he yell at me, tell me how he expected me to fail rather than tell me to pick up my bootstraps and do it again tomorrow. His kindness makes me uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar territory.
I pour the eggs into the pan and use the spatula to keep them soft but fully cooked like Google told me.
Easton doesn’t say anything, but I hear him putting Tanner in the high chair, and this time Tanner doesn’t fuss. Easton goes to his toy bin and pulls out something that sticks to the tray and spins it around for Tanner. He’s instantly enthralled by the spinning toy.
“Listen. The first day I had him, I had to call Callie to come down here and help me. By day three, I was able to anticipate this time of the day and expect him to have a small fit. I’m not sure if he’s hungry or if he’s bored or if he’s just a six-month-old who doesn’t know how to communicate what he wants, but it’s not a you thing—it’s a him thing. ”
A laugh bubbles out of me, but I swallow it down quickly. “Don’t make me laugh.”
He rubs my back and steps closer while I continue to stir the eggs. “Please try again?”
I glance at him. He’s staring at me with so much endearment in his gaze, I could never tell him no. “Okay.”
“Good. Then I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I met with my agent today, and he thinks we need a public proposal.”
The spatula slips from my grasp and free falls to my feet.
Easton laughs, but inside I’m like, “What the hell, we’re changing the script here.”