Alcohol You Later (35)

“Cutting teeth.”

I nod, like I have any idea what that means, while twisting the lid back onto the pink cup.

“Thanks.” Ray takes it and hands it off to the baby, offering me a tentative smile.

“What now?” I sit beside Raven on the leather couch, watching Ava suck down the milk like she’s starving, occasionally pausing just long enough to whimper and drop a few fresh tears.

“Now,” Ray sighs, “I hold her until she’s ready to go back down.” She kisses the little girl’s forehead. “Unless you want to take a turn.” Her brow quirks with hope.

Not even realizing I’m doing it, I slide over, lengthening the distance between us by another foot. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. The thought of being responsible for this little person all on my own causing me to hyperventilate. “I—I can’t, Ray.”

Her answering nod and gentleness in her features relays far more compassion than I deserve. “Why don’t you just put on the TV with the volume really low and go get some sleep? No sense in both of us being up all night.”

I open my mouth to argue, then clamp it shut without uttering a sound. It feels wrong to leave her like this, exhausted and at her wits’ end, but I’m nearly paralyzed with fear at the moment.

“You sure?”

She nods. “Positive.”

“Okay.” I hate myself for the obvious relief in my voice. “Holler if you need me.”

She holds out an upturned thumb before making a shooing motion with her hand.

I look back a few times on my way to the room, giving her the chance to change her mind, all the while praying she doesn’t.

Once inside, I sag against the door with relief, taking a moment to reflect. To collect myself.

The events of today and tonight have me so wound up there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep, so I head for my kit and fit the headphones over my ears.

When I lift the sticks into the air, I’m assaulted with the scent of shit. That’s when I realize the wood feels different. Sticky.

No. Please, God, just…no.

Sure enough, I look down to find my lucky drumsticks covered in crap. It’s smeared across the cymbals and along the wall, like someone had a field day fingerpainting with poop.

It’s on my hands.

Retching, I rush for the bathroom. There’s no time to stop to wash it off before my head is in the bowl and I’m upchucking everything I’ve put into my body today.

“You okay?” Raven comes rushing in, the little girl still cradled in her arms. She gags. “Oh Nick, your vomit smells like shit.”

I can’t respond to tell her how spot-on she is, as I’m too busy heaving into the toilet.

“Oh, no.”

I glance to the side at the sound of her voice to see her examining one of the sticks I tossed into the sink on my mad dash to the bathroom.

“Ohhh, Ava,” she chastises, before breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“What’s funny?” I ask once I’m finally able to move to the sink to scrub my hands.

It takes her a full minute to wind down. I find myself smiling back at her despite the gruesomeness of the situation. I’m just so relieved to see that defeated look gone from her beautiful face.

“Whooo,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Ava here decided to take her diaper off at nap time and she and her brother had a grand old time playing Picasso.” She shakes her head, shuddering as she relives the moment. “I thought I cleaned it all up. I’m so sorry.”

“How’d they get out of their beds? Don’t they zip?”

She shrinks into herself. “Well, I slept with them, in your bed.” Her eyes widen as she braces herself for another wave of my wrath. “I was so tired, Nick.”

“It’s okay.” I tuck a still-dripping hand beneath her chin, stroking my thumb back and forth along her jaw. I hate that I made her fear me even for a moment. I don’t know how, but I will find a way to make this all up to her. “I’m not mad at you for sleeping, babe.” I press a kiss to her forehead, resting my lips against her warm skin…breathing her in. “Not mad at you at all, actually.”

“Good.” She smiles, taking a step back. Her throat clears. “I’m really sorry about your lucky sticks.”

The sticks she gave me last Christmas with “I’ll keep you safe,” engraved in the wood. “It’s okay.” I turn to the side trying to get a glimpse of the quote inked on my neck in the mirror. “I’ve got something better now, anyway.”

She nods, then furrows her brow. “That smell isn’t going to come out of your drums.”

“No worries.” I wink. “I’ll take the new set out of your paycheck.”

Her head cocks to the side. “I’m not letting you pay me, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Well, guess I’ll just have to solicit some other form of compensation.” I start to hum the chorus of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”

That playful tease is like a bucket of icy water, reminding her that she’s angry with me. “Nice try,” she says, shifting the baby to the other hip and moving toward the door. “Gonna go attempt to put her back to sleep now. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks for checking in on me.”