That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(6)
Her cries continue to calm as I swing. She doesn’t like to be bounced. Everybody wants to bounce her, but it just pisses her off more. I peek at our reflection in the long horizontal mirror on the side wall between the bedroom and the large en suite bathroom. Marisa’s eyes look dazed and heavy now. She’s seconds away from falling asleep.
“Hayden, you freaking British baby whisperer,” Leslie gripes in her distinct American accent.
“She was going to crash any second. You almost had her. This is just luck.”
She drops down onto the bed and pushes her auburn hair back from her face. “It’s not luck, Hay. You have the touch. Jeez, I don’t know what we’d do without you here.”
I huff out an incredulous laugh at that preposterous notion. She’s got no clue how much they help me a thousand times more than I could ever help them. She saved my f*cking life for Christ’s sake. Yet I know that Doc is right…There is more to the world outside this flat.
I pause as I hear a soft snore coming from beside my ear and glance at the mirror to find Marisa out cold. I smile triumphantly and turn her to show Leslie.
Her face splits into a grin as she thrusts her hands into the air and does a hilarious silent scream with a little wiggly butt dance. My chest rumbles with laughter as she flops herself back onto the bed and lets out a huge sigh.
After a moment, she sits up and has a serious look upon her face. “Hayden, I know tonight is your big night and you probably have like a trillion things on your mind…but is there any way you could hold her for a while so I can make some calls and take a shower?”
“It’s a tough job, but I think I might just be man enough to do it,” I say with a wink. “Don’t tell my brother, though. He’ll thump me if he knows he missed out on cuddle time again.”
Leslie smiles in a quiet way she only ever does when she thinks of my brother. “He’s hauling the last furniture pieces for the auction over to the ballroom now. He should be back any second and you shall be relieved.”
“No worries. There’s an old football game on downstairs. I’ve got this,” I said, lifting my eyebrows and glancing down at the limp, pink, perfect bundle against my chest.
Leslie smiles affectionately at Marisa before she turns her twinkling green eyes on me. “Thank you, Hayden.”
I head downstairs thinking about how lucky my brother is to have a woman like Leslie. I’ll be proud to call her my official sister after their wedding. Resuming my place on the couch, I allow the slow, rhythmic breaths of Marisa to calm my nerves over what I’m about to do this evening.
The truth is I’ve wanted to hold Marisa all day. She is my moment in reality that reminds me there are bigger struggles happening in this world than my own. And that there are people who need me, even if they are only thirteen pounds. This perfect, fussy baby has become my safety net. My anchor. Holding her against my heart reminds me exactly why I need to always keep it beating.
EASY FAVOUR
“Vilma, I need you!” Leslie’s voice peels loudly through the phone line.
“What? What is it?” My voice rises at the end and I shoot up out of my wheelie office chair, clutching the phone tightly to my ear. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“Oh no, no. Marisa is fine. I mean, colicky as always and killing me with the no sleep thing, but healthy as a fussy baby horse.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “A what?”
“Healthy as a horse? Do the Brits not have that reference? Never mind. I have something serious to ask you, Vilma.”
I sigh, “Leslie, why do you insist on calling me by my full name? You’re seriously the only one. You haven’t been in the office for a couple of months and I rather got used to being called just Vi again.”
“I love Vilma…It reminds me of Scooby Doo,” she giggles and I realise how much I’ve missed that sound around here.
I drop back down on my chair and begin spinning around in slow circles. “I still have no idea what you’re going on about,” I reply. I never watched telly much growing up and Leslie can’t seem to wrap her brain around that.
“Scooby Doo and the gang! You seriously need to catch up on your American cartoons. I know they play them in England…Hey! Did you get my happy birthday text yesterday? You never replied.”
“Oh shite, yes. I did. Sorry…My brothers showed up, so I got distracted.”
“Sexy soccer brothers?” she asks with a provocative purr to her speech.
Groaning in disgust, I answer, “It’s football over here, mate. You’ve been in London long enough now to use the proper term. Now, did you call for a reason, or just to distract me from my very serious work to educate me on animated American telly and tell me I have hot brothers?”
“Uptight British—” Leslie grumbles, but I cut her off.
“Oi darling, don’t you have a go at me! You’ve left me stranded here at the office because you had to go and have a cute, perfect baby with that sinfully sexy fiancé of yours. I’m not to be trifled with right now. I’ve had to deal with Benji, Hector, and Roger all on my own. Plus two trips to China since you left.”
“Fine, fine…Viiiiii,” she drawls out the I in an exaggerated, smug British accent.
Leslie and I have been working side by side for several years now. She was in charge of working directly with the Chinese factories that make our camera bag designs until her recent maternity leave. I’ve had to pick up the slack ever since. Leslie, Hector, and I are the three designers. We work on various satchels, wallets, clutches, and totes that are all technology and photography friendly. There are a handful of other clerical people we work alongside, as well as with our boss, Roger.