Page 38 of Sinful Bride

I can only nod. I don’t trust my voice right now.

“Good. Now, let’s go show our daughter who’s the boss.”

When we emerge from the bedroom, Asya has Taty curled up in one arm and holding a fresh bottle with the other. “I was just about to feed her,” she explains. She holds the bottle out to me.

Here we go. Showtime.

“Come here, malyshka,” I croon to my baby girl. “It’s time to eat, and no more fussing. There’s nothing wrong with takeout. You’ll learn to love it.”

She’s still tentative at first. But when Taty latches onto the bottle, and starts drinking? No fuss, no screams, no tears?

I about collapse with relief.

“I got you,” I whisper. “Mommy’s got you. I’m gonna figure this motherhood thing out, I promise.”

15

PASHA

I’ve been in gunfights less intense than this.

At least in those, I knew what to do. Here, I’m fucking clueless.

I didn’t know what the sound was until I walked in the room and saw Daphne and Taty crying hysterically. I froze in the doorway—froze, like a rookie in his first brush with violence. Froze—the one thing that gets you killed.

But what am I supposed to do in this situation? There’s no one to kill. No one to intimidate. There are just two women falling to pieces and they both need me in ways I don’t know how to fulfill.

I have no fucking idea where to even start to help, truthfully. Daphne is sobbing while she holds Tatyanna on her lap, who is screaming her head off and waving her little arms angrily at her mother. It’s complete chaos and no one ever gave me a heads up on how to deal with it.

Improvise. Do something. Anything at all.

“What’s going on?”

Daphne presses her hand to her forehead with a grimace. “I’m trying! I’m trying so hard to be a good mama! I just want to feed my baby, but she hates me! My own baby hates me! And… and… and I don’t blame her!” She hiccups between sobs, doubling over until her tears splash on our daughter’s face. “I’m no good… I’m no good… I can’t… I’m so sorry…”

Fuck.

I spring into action, scooping Tatyanna from Daphne’s arms and settling her into her bassinet. She quiets, watching me as if she’s curious how all this is going to go. So am I, I want to say to her bitterly. So the fuck am I.

Then I sit down next to Daphne and pull her into my lap. She comes easily, almost pitifully, a puddle of limbs and tears. I stroke her hair until her sobs fade to whimpers and her whimpers fade to silence.

I wait for her to talk first.

“I just… I wanted…” Daphne takes another deep breath to steady her words. “I just wanted to feed her. I’ve been feeling better about everything, so I wanted to try the pump again. I don’t want…” Her voice breaks. She swallows it back. “I don’t want to give my baby formula. So I put on the pump, and I tried holding her while I waited so we could bond.”

“Does it hurt?”

Shame floods her expression. She looks away, but nods. “I have to keep trying.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Pasha, I need to?—”

“What you need is to take care of yourself.” I firm up my voice enough to get her to listen to me. “We made a deal, remember? You’d keep doing this so long as it doesn’t hurt you. It’s hurting you, so it needs to stop.”

I find the switch to turn it off and ease the contraption away from her body. Daphne winces, and I’m tempted to punt the damned thing over the rooftop.

“What our daughter needs,” I continue, “is for her mother to stop hurting herself.” I pick Taty up and place her back in Daphne’s arms.

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