Bountiful

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  David

  I woke up to a kiss from Zara on the side of my face. “I have to go bake scones,” she said.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, pressing my eyelids closed, trying to remain unconscious.

  “Nicole will wake up in about an hour. Here’s the monitor.” I opened one eye to see that she’d placed a plastic device on her empty pillow. “When you hear her cry, will you get her out of the crib?”

  “Of course,” I slurred. Did she think I would just let the baby cry?

  “When she’s up, you can either go upstairs and knock on Alec’s door—he’ll take care of her. That’s usually his shift. Or, if you’d rather do it yourself, I left you a note on the kitchen counter.”

  “I’ll handle it.” Even in my sleep haze, I knew I’d never ask Alec for help. Fuck that noise.

  “Fine.” She kissed my cheek one more time. “I’ll leave my phone on. Text me if you have any issues.”

  “Sure.”

  She stood up to go, but I caught her wrist. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” Zara gave me half a smile. “I’m all right. I do have to get moving, though.”

  “Okay, gorgeous.” I rolled onto my back and stretched. “I’m just going to lie around naked in your bed for a while, wishing you were here.”

  That won me a full smile. But then she gave me a little wave and disappeared. I heard the door click shut a moment later.

  On any other day, I would’ve fallen right back to sleep. But suddenly I was the responsible adult in the house. Given that, the best that I could manage was a light doze for the next hour.

  When the squawk finally came, it was so loud that I didn’t even need the monitor. I heard Nicole in stereo and sat right up to look around for my boxers. “Kap-Pah-Dis!” she demanded as I struggled into my underwear and then hurried into her room.

  When I got there, I found her standing on the crib mattress, her hands wrapped around the slats, like a jailed criminal rattling the bars of his cage. When she spotted me in the doorway, her eyes narrowed. Clearly I was not the personnel she’d expected.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice scratchy. “How you doing today?”

  She babbled an answer that I’m pretty sure would translate to: I’d be doing a whole lot better if you got me out of this cage, dummy.

  When I approached the crib, she lifted her chubby arms toward me. And I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t affect me—that simple motion of trust.

  “All right,” I said, lifting her to my chest. “Let’s figure out this diaper thing.”

  And there was really nothing to it. I unsnapped her baby PJs. Then I removed her heavy, wet diaper and threw it away. Zara had all the fresh ones in a stack beside the changing pad, so ten seconds and a couple of tapes later we were done and on our way.

  But I did have one problem. I hadn’t stopped by the bathroom myself, and now I was dancing a jig. I carried her into the bathroom. “Avert your eyes,” I said pointlessly, peeing one-handed and then flushing. Then I washed one hand.

  Zara must do everything one-handed. Huh.

  In the kitchen, as promised, there was a note.

  1. She will want the bottle in the fridge. Nuke it for fifteen seconds and then swirl the contents because microwaves create hot spots. Then run the nipple under warm water for a few seconds so it isn’t icy.

  2. You can turn on Sesame Street and hold her on the couch while she drinks it. Channel 49.

  3. When the milk is gone she can have a small bowl of Cheerios.

  There was an arrow on the page pointing at a small plastic bowl that I was supposed to use for the Cheerios, which had also been left out on the counter.

  Zara had idiot-proofed my hour alone with Nicole.

  The baby was pretty excited about the whole thing. She made impatient noises while I got her bottle warmed and carried her over to the sofa. I forgot to find the remote for Sesame Street, but she didn’t seem to care. She made herself comfortable on my lap and leaned her head back on the arm of the sofa. I lifted the bottle for her, but she grabbed it with her own two hands to guide it to her mouth. Give me that, rookie. I’ll take it from here.

  And that was it. For now, that was the whole job. I sat there, propping up the bottle, behaving as her very own human lounge chair for ten minutes or so, while she took long, luxurious pulls from the bottle. Her eyes went half-mast, and one of her hands drifted over to my wrist, where her small fingers sifted absently through the hair there.

  My phone was on the coffee table where I’d abandoned it the night before. When Nicole gave up on the last bit of milk in the bottle, I reached over to trade the bottle for my phone. There were text messages from Bess. Where are you? And then another one an hour later. Never mind, I retract the question.

  There was also a text from my lawyer earlier in the evening. Just got the DNA test results back. As you’d assumed, you are the father.

  I dropped the phone onto the sofa and lifted a startled Nicole slowly into the air and then lowered her onto my lap again. She smiled at me, so I did it again. “Looks like you’re stuck with me,” I told her. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or apologize.”

  Her response was to point at the darkened television screen and babble a complaint.

  I found the remote and turned on the television to her station. Then, while she was staring at the screen, I went into the kitchen and poured a baby-sized bowl of Cheerios from the box beside the note. I added some milk from the fridge. Given Zara’s level of detail, it was sort of surprising that she hadn’t left a spoon out for me, but I found a pink plastic one in the drawer.

  Then I carried the whole thing over to the coffee table, along with a paper towel in case of accidents.

  Nicole slid feet-first off the sofa and gave her bowl of cereal a look. Then she turned her Zara glare on me.

  “What? The note says you like this.” I spooned up a couple of Cheerios and lifted it toward her.

  The baby’s expression was blatantly accusatory. In response, she plunged her little hand right into the bowl and grabbed a few pieces of cereal, then lifted them, dripping, to her mouth.

  “I like my way better,” I said, grabbing the paper towel and catching the milk that was dripping down her arm. “But you gotta be you.”

  Luckily it was a small bowl of cereal, because Nicole made a royal mess of it. And she was a slow eater. She got distracted by Elmo on the television, which gave me time to clean her up between every handful of cereal.

  When she’d eaten almost all of it, the apartment door banged open, startling us both. Zara’s brother Alec stood there in a pair of shorts—one level up from the boxers-only outfit I was wearing—looking sleep-drunk and pissed off. “What the f…fudge are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Buddy, you really don’t want me to answer that.

  Wordlessly, I wiped another milk slick off Nicole’s hand.

  Alec’s face reddened as he did the math. When he opened his mouth, I was sure I was about to get an earful about how I wasn’t good enough for Zara. But instead he said, “Zara gives her the Cheerios dry.”

  “Oh,” I said, slowly. The note had said “a small bowl of Cheerios.” There had been no mention of milk, come to think of it. “I guess that makes sense.”

  Alec made a rude snort, then staggered over to the couch and flung himself down. “This is my shift. You can go now.”

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m good. You can go back to bed.”

  Alec glared at me and didn’t move.

  I didn’t move either.

  Nicole gave up on her cereal, and I scooped her up in one arm and took the sticky bowl with my other. I carried her over to the kitchen sink and turned it on. “How about you rinse off your hands?” I suggested.

  Miraculously, she stuck both hands under the faucet.

  “Good work,” I said, and the praise sounded alien to my own ears.

  Actually, everything about this moment was weird. Alec had given me t
he chance to drop Nicole in his lap and be done. But I hadn’t taken him up on the offer. Sure, it was partly just stubbornness on my part. But so what? I could hold the baby for a couple of hours just as well as Alec could. And Zara had left the job to me. I wasn’t about to let her down.

  Truthfully, there were moments when I still felt in my bones that I wasn’t father material. But it was dawning on me that fathers were made, not born. You held the baby and you figured out how she ate cereal. You learned to prevent her from doing a header off the bed. You just dealt with whatever came up.

  Before now I’d convinced myself that my own shitty childhood meant I’d never understand this. But my parents’ ghosts didn’t hover today. It was just me and a little girl who needed her hands dried on the dish towel.

  When that was done, I carried Nicole into Zara’s bedroom and found my clothes. We sat down on the bed while I pulled on the khakis I’d worn to the wedding, and then the shirt, unbuttoned.

  I didn’t let Nicole near the edge of the bed. I kept her close, and she climbed into my lap and put her little hands on my chest. When I lifted her up suddenly, she squealed with glee.

  My phone chimed again from the coffee table in the living room. I grabbed it when the baby and I sat down again. The text was another from my lawyer. This paternity test means the judge will grant you visitation if you want to ask for it. You’re the father with 99.999+ percent certainty.

  That was not the least bit surprising, but it still felt strange to see those words on my phone. “See? You’re stuck with me,” I whispered to Nicole.

  She gave me an appraising squint.

  “Can you say daddy?” Those were words I’d never expected to say in my life.

  “Dah-dah.”

  I laughed so suddenly her eyes widened. “Did you really just say it?”

  “Bah-bdah,” she babbled.

  “Huh. We’ll revisit that later.”

  Alec was glaring at me from the other end of the sofa. I didn’t know why he didn’t just go upstairs already. Was I really expected to fuck up so spectacularly that he’d need to save the day? Or, worse, was he intending to make me so uncomfortable that I’d just leave?

  Leaning back on the couch, I made myself comfortable.

  Nicole was a little bored with me so she crawled out of my lap toward Alec. He picked her up, looking smug. “Look,” he said to me. “I think you should stay away from my sister and Nicole.”

  Ah, there it was. “That’s not your call,” I pointed out. “And you don’t know me. So I don’t know why you’d even say that.”

  “You’re not what she needs.”

  “Really? And what does she need?” I asked.

  “A guy who lives in the same area code, for starters.”

  I didn’t even know what to say to that. And luckily it didn’t matter, because the door swung open and Zara stepped through, carrying a cup of coffee. She took in the sight of the two of us sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, and her face turned wary. “I thought you could sleep in today,” she said to Alec.

  “Woke up at six in a panic that I hadn’t heard you at the door,” he grumbled. “That coffee for me?”

  “Nope.” She crossed the room and handed it to me.

  “Thank you. Very thoughtful,” I said.

  Alec rolled his eyes.

  “You can go back to bed, big brother,” she said. “Especially if you’re here to judge me.”

  “He’s here to judge me,” I said. “I’m pretty sure.”

  Alec stood, the baby in his arms. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he handed her to Zara and left without a word.

  She flinched as the door closed with a bang. “Sorry. Was he an ass to you?”

  “Eh. I’ve seen worse.”

  Her smile made an appearance. “Of all my brothers, his case of macho bull…crud is the most stubborn. How did you two get along?” she asked, pointing between Nicole and I.

  “Just fine. You left good instructions.” We could just gloss right over the cereal disaster.

  Nicole began to wiggle in Zara’s arms, so she set the baby down. Nicole waddled off to see her toys in the corner of the room.

  “You need to go,” Zara said, shutting off the TV.

  “Ah, there’s the Zara I remember,” I joked.

  She gave me a sheepish look. “My mother is on her way over, okay? Unless you want to explain your presence, take the cab that’s downstairs for you, and run for it. I’ll get someone to help me fetch yours later.”

  “I’ll do it,” I offered. “If you give me the keys to my rental, Castro will help me.”

  “The keys are in it,” she said. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” I crossed the room to stand right in front of her. Already I felt a certain distance between us. Like she wanted to be rid of me and not just because her mother was on the way.

  That was my girl. “I’m going,” I reassured her. “Right after you kiss me.”

  She straightened her spine, but bit her lip. “Listen, Dave…”

  “Hey, are you really going to give me a speech about how last night was a fluke, and we should never do it again?”

  “Well…” She cleared her throat.

  “Honey, don’t let your mouth write a check your body can’t cash.” I reached out and cupped the back of her neck, rubbing a thumb against the muscle at the base of her skull. Her eyes fluttered closed, as I knew they would. “You’ve been through a lot and you need me to go now, and I’ll go. But this isn’t over. I’m still drawn to you, Zara. Don’t see why that’s such a bad thing. I like you. Always have.”

  “I like you, too, you jerk. But I have responsibilities.”

  I raised my hands in supplication. “You can tell me all about them the next time I see you.” I pulled her against my chest, and she came willingly, wrapping her arms around me. “Hey.” I stole a kiss. “I’ll see you real soon.” I kissed her again.

  “Soonish. I have to work more hours in the next ten days than I have in my life,” she said, looking up at me. “Don’t be too surprised if I’m not easy to get ahold of.”

  “Okay. Then this will have to hold me.” I stroked my thumb down her nose and then leaned over and kissed her a good one. She sighed against me and let me plunder her mouth.

  Until somebody grabbed my knee and squawked.

  We broke apart, looking down at the little person who was frowning up at us.

  “No way! Look who’s jealous.” Zara leaned over and scooped Nicole up off the floor.

  “Thanks for putting up with an amateur,” I told my baby, then kissed her wispy forehead. “Goodbye for now.” I hugged Zara, too.

  “Wave bye-bye,” Zara said.

  They watched me with matching big brown eyes as I let myself out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Zara

  The following week was longer than a washed-out country mile.

  With Audrey away on her honeymoon, there was no backup at the bakery. I worked the longest hours I’d worked in years, while my family pulled extra shifts with the baby. I couldn’t even get extra hours from Kieran Shipley, because that man had three jobs already.

  The hardest hours of the day were the early mornings. I discovered that the difference between getting up before dawn three days a week versus six days a week was worse than I’d predicted. I felt like crying every morning at quarter to five when my alarm clock went off. Alec felt the same. He grumbled loudly when I went upstairs to drag him down to sleep on my couch.

  Usually, Audrey closed the bakery on the days when I went in early, and vice versa. But now I both opened and closed, sneaking away in the middle of the day only briefly before Kieran left at two.

  “You need a full-time employee,” my mother said as I dragged myself through the door again after the third day.

  “Too expensive.” I sighed. Audrey and I often did the math on hiring someone else. But a full-timer would be entitled to benefits. And we were afraid to take on liabilities this early i
n our business development.

  “If Audrey’s pregnant, you’re going to need someone, whether it’s expensive or not.”

  “Who told you she was pregnant?” I asked, lifting my shirt for Nicole to nurse.

  My mother waved away the question with one of her carefully manicured hands. “The bridge club was all over that last night. I know I missed the ceremony, but apparently Audrey was a lovely shade of green during her vows.”

  “That’s not nice,” I said, even though I’d noticed it, too. Although Audrey wouldn’t give a rip what the bridge club said, the gossip still bothered me. Small towns were brutal. “What does the bridge club have to say about Dave turning up at the wedding with Nicole?”

  My mother gave me a cat-like smile. “Do you really want to know?”

  “No,” I grumbled. “I guess not.”

  “They thought you looked lovely together,” she reported anyway. “And the fact that he’s buying two houses on the hill hasn’t escaped notice, either. There’s a rumor that he’s going to knock one of them down to make a double yard with an ice rink.”

  “That is not true,” I pointed out. “Where do people get these ideas?”

  My mother just shrugged. “You picked the Tudor, right? Jana Godfrey said it was prettier.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “It was.” I’d been trying not to think about the house, or about Dave in general. But it sure wasn’t easy to put him out of mind. I’d gotten texts from him asking when he could drop off some paint chips and see me.

  And by “see me” I was sure he meant “see me naked.”

  Sleeping with him had been a mistake I shouldn’t repeat. And yet every time I lay down in bed for my precious few hours of rest, I imagined him there beside me. My traitorous body craved his touch, and not just at night. When I was standing in the bakery alone at five thirty in the morning, I thought about his green eyes staring down at me while we—

  Unngh.

  I didn’t know how to stop wanting him. I’d always promised myself I wouldn’t do what my mother had done—wait around for the father of her children to turn up again and love her. But now—even if I was determined to avoid the same mistake—I finally understood how she’d spent two decades of her life bamboozled by a man who really didn’t care.