Patchwork Paradise(46)

“I’ll go get my laptop.”



I had no idea babies could snore. At first I thought it was Thomas, and I thought it was really endearing. Then I realized it was Milo, and just wanted to laugh. Milo made these tiny noises that ended with a little snort, and once I felt sure Thomas wasn’t about to open his eyes again, I looked my fill.

He’d unbuttoned his shirt but kept it on, and Milo had one side of it clutched in his little fist. The baby had a full, pouty mouth, pink like the pads on kitten paws, and he kept making small sucking motions like he was dreaming of his next drink.

“You and me both, dude,” I mumbled under my breath. I tried to concentrate on a work project I was setting up, I really did, but there was a hunk of a man in my guest bedroom, with his shirt half-off and a baby sleeping on his chest. My eyes crossed so often from the effort not to look away from my screen that I gave myself a headache.

Thomas’s hair hung over his forehead. One thick strand of it tickled his nose and lifted a little whenever he breathed out. My fingers itched, I wanted so badly to get up and move it aside for him.

A date . . . less than a week ago I’d nearly had a date with him. My breath caught in my chest. What do you think of that, huh, Sammy? A date with Thomas. Even if the whole thing had been cut short. I’d never thought it would come to that. Can you imagine us together, Sam? Weird, right?

My heart gave a little lurch, like it expected to jump back to life after lying dormant for so long. Thomas was hot as f*ck, so no problem in that department, and I’d always really liked him. But wasn’t that a problem? We’d been friends for so long. Could I imagine being with him? Kissing him? Slipping that soft white shirt off his muscular arms and working my way along his pecs, the downy hair on his chest tickling my mouth as I— Oh God. I shifted in my seat. No problem there either.

But love? Could I do it? Was it even an option if I had to ask myself that question? I looked away when my eyes began to burn. How could I sit here in Sam’s house and feel that way about someone else?

He’d want you to, a little voice told me, but I shook it away as if it were a gossamer spiderweb. Behind me the sun crept past the window, the city noises dull through the triple glazing. So when the wail broke the silence, it was extra startling.

“Jesus!” Thomas went rigid in the bed, from fast asleep to three hundred percent awake in less than a second. I could see his frantic heartbeat thundering in his neck. I jumped up from the rocking chair, shoving my laptop aside, and lifted a crying Milo from his chest.

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s okay, and so are you.”

Thomas blinked and sat up. “Well, that sent my blood pressure through the roof. How long did we sleep?”

“Close to two hours.” I looked at him. The bags under his eyes were even deeper than before. “Why don’t you grab another hour’s sleep? Mom and I can keep this little fella entertained, can’t we?” Oh God, what am I saying? I cradled Milo awkwardly, head so small it fit in one hand, rump in the other. I held him away from me like I was presenting Simba to his subjects in The Lion King.

“We’ll be—” with a really disturbing amount of noise, Milo filled his diaper, and just like that he stopped crying “—fine. Well, at least we know what woke him up. Was it all those onions Granny Louise fed you?” I held him even farther away from me, and Thomas laughed softly as he snuggled back into bed. “Yeah, laugh it up,” I said as I moved toward the door, because Granny Louise needed to do something about this pile of poop. “Tonight he’s all yours.” And with that sobering thought, I left him to it.

I found Mom heating a bottle in something I probably would’ve tried boiling eggs in.

“He has a present for you,” I said as I wrinkled my nose and held Milo out.

“Oh great, I’ll help you change his diaper and you can give him his bottle.”

“Me?” I gave her a horrified look and put Milo on my shoulder so he wouldn’t hear me putting his business out there. “But he pooped,” I whispered.

“Yes, babies do that. Come along.”

She’d cleared a corner of the table that stood at the other end of the living room. It used to function as our dining room, but I never used it anyway and had set up a changing station there. It was made out of two thick towels and a bunch of diapers and bottles and wipes.

“We should probably get him some better stuff.”

“This will do for now,” she said. “He has a better changing pad upstairs, and soon enough that’ll be the only one you need. All right, put him down.”

Milo had somehow managed to grab a lock of my hair and held on to it with the strength of a tiny ninja, so I counted it a win when I only lost half a dozen hairs. I glanced at my mother.

“Go on.”

I thought she could do with enjoying herself a little less, but pried the snap buttons of Milo’s onesie open. I didn’t realize how hard I was concentrating until he kicked out and caught me right on the chin. “Ow! Okay, buddy, I’m working as fast as I can. How about you do some talking and keep us entertained, huh? Can you say, ‘Hi, Uncle Ollie’?”

Beside me, Mom snorted and shoved me gently. “Get on with it, because he’s about two minutes away from a meltdown. He’s hungry.”

“How can you tell?” I managed to push the onesie up and started in on the diaper. Oh God. With as little contact as possible, I pried the Velcro loose.