Beautiful Beloved
Page 10
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Chloe whipped her head around dramatically. “You?”
“I’ll have you know that my mother ran a day care, and I taught preschool all through college. Hell, I worked in the infant room when I was in high school to pay for majorette class.” Chloe went to respond but he held up a hand: “Shut it, Mills.” He turned to me. “I’ll watch Anna. I can even watch her tonight.”
“You’d watch her?” I asked. “You could really do that?”
“With my eyes closed. Besides,” he said, eyeing the muffins again, “it’s not like I have any kind of social life to speak of. My nights are wide open.”
The smell of home hit me before I’d even walked in the door. My talk with the girls and George had done wonders, and I’d successfully navigated the day with no freak-outs, no tears, and only one breast milk incident when a phone call went long and I couldn’t get to my pump in time. Next time, I’d just do it while I was on the phone. Boom. My friends were right; I’d figure it out as I went.
Basically, I was feeling pretty unstoppable as I rounded the corner, ready to tell Max about our dinner that night. Then I found him shirtless—again—wrapped in nothing but a towel, with a tiny sleeping baby in his arms, and I was ready to forget about dinner entirely and let him get me pregnant again that very second.
Focus, Sara.
“I’m taking you to dinner,” I said. “Surprise! Also, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to need you to put some clothes on for real this time or we’ll never get out of the apartment.”
Max looked up, confused. “Dinner? How did you—?” Sitting up, he said, “And no, I meant to ring you today. I wanted to take you to dinner this weekend but Mum is leaving for Leeds tomorrow. I completely forgot it was in my schedule.”
“That’s what I’m saying: George is watching Anna tonight.”
“Tonight? Has George ever even seen a baby?”
I crossed the room and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Hi,” I said, and kissed him again. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s perfect.” I took the sleeping baby from his arms and leaned in, pressing my face to her soft little head, breathing in as much of her as I could. She had Max’s hair for sure, only a shade darker than mine but already with a bit of a wave to it. Her clean-baby smell hit me, and I felt my breasts grow heavy, my milk letting down almost immediately.
A chair Max brought me from England sat tucked beneath the window in the nursery. It was my favorite place in the apartment, where I was able to look out over the city while I nursed. I got Anna situated, and then looked up at him.
He clearly thought I’d lost my mind. “Are we talking about the same George?”
“I had breakfast with everyone this morning before I went in to work. Did you know that George’s mom ran a day care while he was growing up? He worked there while he was in high school and all through college. He worked with infants.”
He gave me his best skeptical face. “We’re talking about the same twenty-something bloke who wore a Wisconsin cheese hat and some flowy Jesus robes for Halloween, calling himself ‘Cheesus’?”
“The one and only,” I said, laughing at the memory. “He’s probably more qualified to take care of her than we are. Plus we’ll stay close. Just around the corner. He can text or call with any questions and we can be back up here in less than three minutes.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. This is exactly what we need. Now get dressed, he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
George showed up exactly fourteen minutes later.
From the bathroom, I could hear Max open the door and let him in, and begin grilling him as they went from room to room.
“And what about her bottle?” Max asked, clearly hoping to be proven right, and that George had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
“Sara’s breastfeeding so I assume you have expressed milk in the freezer? Maybe even fresh in the refrigerator,” George said, more to himself than to Max, I was sure. “What am I talking about? Honestly, I think I’ve seen more of Sara’s boobs in the last four months than my own.” There was the sound of the freezer door as it opened and closed, and I stepped out into the living room, watching as George answered Max’s questions one by one. Max looked begrudgingly impressed.
“I assume she’s getting about six ounces a feeding,” George continued. “Probably every three hours or so? I’ll heat the refrigerated milk first—only ever under warm water, never the microwave. It kills beneficial properties, you know—and I’ll use the frozen if needed. Though you’ll probably be back by then . . .” George trailed off.
“I’ll have you know that my mother ran a day care, and I taught preschool all through college. Hell, I worked in the infant room when I was in high school to pay for majorette class.” Chloe went to respond but he held up a hand: “Shut it, Mills.” He turned to me. “I’ll watch Anna. I can even watch her tonight.”
“You’d watch her?” I asked. “You could really do that?”
“With my eyes closed. Besides,” he said, eyeing the muffins again, “it’s not like I have any kind of social life to speak of. My nights are wide open.”
The smell of home hit me before I’d even walked in the door. My talk with the girls and George had done wonders, and I’d successfully navigated the day with no freak-outs, no tears, and only one breast milk incident when a phone call went long and I couldn’t get to my pump in time. Next time, I’d just do it while I was on the phone. Boom. My friends were right; I’d figure it out as I went.
Basically, I was feeling pretty unstoppable as I rounded the corner, ready to tell Max about our dinner that night. Then I found him shirtless—again—wrapped in nothing but a towel, with a tiny sleeping baby in his arms, and I was ready to forget about dinner entirely and let him get me pregnant again that very second.
Focus, Sara.
“I’m taking you to dinner,” I said. “Surprise! Also, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to need you to put some clothes on for real this time or we’ll never get out of the apartment.”
Max looked up, confused. “Dinner? How did you—?” Sitting up, he said, “And no, I meant to ring you today. I wanted to take you to dinner this weekend but Mum is leaving for Leeds tomorrow. I completely forgot it was in my schedule.”
“That’s what I’m saying: George is watching Anna tonight.”
“Tonight? Has George ever even seen a baby?”
I crossed the room and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Hi,” I said, and kissed him again. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s perfect.” I took the sleeping baby from his arms and leaned in, pressing my face to her soft little head, breathing in as much of her as I could. She had Max’s hair for sure, only a shade darker than mine but already with a bit of a wave to it. Her clean-baby smell hit me, and I felt my breasts grow heavy, my milk letting down almost immediately.
A chair Max brought me from England sat tucked beneath the window in the nursery. It was my favorite place in the apartment, where I was able to look out over the city while I nursed. I got Anna situated, and then looked up at him.
He clearly thought I’d lost my mind. “Are we talking about the same George?”
“I had breakfast with everyone this morning before I went in to work. Did you know that George’s mom ran a day care while he was growing up? He worked there while he was in high school and all through college. He worked with infants.”
He gave me his best skeptical face. “We’re talking about the same twenty-something bloke who wore a Wisconsin cheese hat and some flowy Jesus robes for Halloween, calling himself ‘Cheesus’?”
“The one and only,” I said, laughing at the memory. “He’s probably more qualified to take care of her than we are. Plus we’ll stay close. Just around the corner. He can text or call with any questions and we can be back up here in less than three minutes.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. This is exactly what we need. Now get dressed, he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
George showed up exactly fourteen minutes later.
From the bathroom, I could hear Max open the door and let him in, and begin grilling him as they went from room to room.
“And what about her bottle?” Max asked, clearly hoping to be proven right, and that George had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
“Sara’s breastfeeding so I assume you have expressed milk in the freezer? Maybe even fresh in the refrigerator,” George said, more to himself than to Max, I was sure. “What am I talking about? Honestly, I think I’ve seen more of Sara’s boobs in the last four months than my own.” There was the sound of the freezer door as it opened and closed, and I stepped out into the living room, watching as George answered Max’s questions one by one. Max looked begrudgingly impressed.
“I assume she’s getting about six ounces a feeding,” George continued. “Probably every three hours or so? I’ll heat the refrigerated milk first—only ever under warm water, never the microwave. It kills beneficial properties, you know—and I’ll use the frozen if needed. Though you’ll probably be back by then . . .” George trailed off.
