Page 46 of Waiting to Love You

Now is not the time to lose it, Bristol. You need to be there for your daughter, since no one else is. But there could be someone else.

“I know. I know,” I mutter into the room, suddenly regretting my decision even more to keep Rebekah from her father.

I’ll figure out a way to tell Seth about Rebekah soon. He deserves to be here for her, for us, to experience the good, bad, and hard parts of having a little one. Like right now, I would love nothing more than to snap my fingers and take whatever is wrong with her away, but I can’t, and it breaks my heart.

“Shhhhh, baby girl,” I whisper against the top of her head as I grab the infant’s Tylenol and a syringe out of the medicine cabinet and shove it into my pants pocket before running a washcloth under cool water. I squeeze it tightly in my right hand, hoping to get most of the water out before walking back into the room.

I lay her down on my bed as gently as possible and open her pajamas, pulling her tiny arms out of the sleeves before running the cool rag over her forehead and stomach. Now that she is lying down, I pull the medicine out of my pocket and draw out the right dosage.

I rub my finger on Rebekah’s chin, hoping to coax her into opening her mouth. “Come on, sweetheart. Mama has something that will make you feel better.”

After coaxing her for a little longer, she finally opens her mouth just enough for me to shoot the medicine inside. She coughs a little but keeps it down.

“All right, sweetie. Hopefully, you’ll feel better soon.”

For the next hour, I rock her back and forth, trying everything I can to soothe her, but it’s all to no avail. Tears roll down both of our cheeks as I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something else to make her feel better.

I text Audrey, asking her for advice, but get no response. She’s probably already asleep or busy with her family. I stare at my phone for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of texting Seth, but decide against it. He won’t know any more than I do about this, but I’m sure we could figure it out together.

“Let’s check your temperature again,” I mumble as I lay Rebekah down and check her temperature again. The light flashes her temperature: 100.4. I sigh in relief. At least the medicine is helping a little.

“Do I need to call the doctor?” I ask my little girl, as if she could answer me.

Rebekah has never had any type of fever before. She even took to teething like a champ. No crying fits or issues sleeping since she started. All I have to do is make sure we have teething rings available for her to chew on, and we’re set.

This is a different story altogether. It’s completely uncharted territory for me as a first-time mom. I grab my phone off the bed, searching through my contacts for someone to call and ask for advice, but quickly change my mind.

“It’s just the two of us.” I sniffle as I bury my nose in my little girl’s hair.

Rebekah coughs and gags loudly before throwing up all over me and herself. “It's okay, it's okay, it’s okay,” I repeat like a mantra as I gently set her on the bed and rip my shirt over my head.

I should be worried about getting her spit-up all over my hair and other parts of my body, but I’m too tired to care. I pull her pajamas off her legs and wrap her in a blanket. No sense in putting her in a clean onesie if she’s just going to be spitting up for the remainder of the night.

I take a seat in the rocking chair in the opposite corner of my room and slowly rock back and forth. The rocking seems to do the trick, and she calms slightly, sniffling softly as she tries to calm down.

Fat tears roll down my cheeks as the exhaustion consumes me. The last time I looked at the clock, it was almost one in the morning. What I wouldn’t give for someone, anyone, who knows more about taking care of a child than me to appear, but there is no one I can turn to. Everyone has their own lives, and I can’t keep bothering them as I try to learn how to take care of my daughter.

I was ready to tell Seth about Rebekah earlier, but now I don’t have another choice. He should be here for the good and the bad. Her first stomachache and her first steps. I shouldn’t have taken this away from him, no matter what my reasons. I could have done any number of things to get a hold of him, but I let my fear get the best of me.

I need to do the right thing, for both mine and Rebekah’s sake. At times like this, when I’m at my wit’s end with no one to turn to, it would be nice to have someone else to rely on. Someone else that loves and cares for Rebekah as much if not more than I do, and there’s no better person to do that than her father.

And Rebekah? Well, every little girl needs her daddy.

Chapter 13

Seth

“Trouble in paradise?” Brady asks as he flops down on the other side of the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table.

“You could say that. Bristol hasn’t been answering my calls or texts for the last few days,” I grumble, trying to think of anything I could have done to turn her off.

“Maybe she’s just busy,” he responds absentmindedly as he turns our PlayStation on.

It’s been about a few weeks since our date, and things were going well. We haven’t had much time to spend alone together. I try to drop lunch off to her at the studio once or twice a week, but I haven’t been able to as much since things picked up with the new construction project Vance and Connor hired me to work on.

Now, most days I’m exhausted when I get home, leaving no room for more dates with Bristol, but I haven’t left her hanging. Usually, I call her every night when I get home or shortly after dinnertime, depending on what her class schedule is for that week. Thankfully, being the owner of her own business, she understands being tired at the end of the day and just needing time to hang out and relax, so instead of dates, we settle for phone calls and text messages.

We usually text back and forth during the day and, if time permits, have long talks into the night. We talk about everything and nothing at the same time. She asks me questions about being in the military and about the places I’ve visited over the years, which I answer easily. I ask her all the mundane questions about herself, like her favorite color and food, her favorite hobby—other than yoga, of course. I want to know everything about her, even the small stuff.

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