Page 135 of More Than Words

Finley was all smiles when I picked her up from the daycare at the end of the day. My mind was still a chaotic mess—worried about Isobel—but I knew I couldn’t force her. She wouldn’t leave us. I knew that in my heart. She was lost, and I hoped she’d find her way out of it without falling apart even more.

Maybe I should have pushed the issue months ago, but I’d been too scared and overwhelmed by everything going on with Finley to really process how Isobel was crumbling before my eyes. If she didn’t want to talk to someone about how she’d been feeling, I couldn’t force her. She had to want to get healthy for herself.

It’d been so gradual over the last several months, and I hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until yesterday. She’d been pulling into herself bit by bit until the vibrant woman I’d fallen for was a ghost of herself.

I knew she couldn’t see why I wanted to marry her, but even after her rejection, I still wanted that. Not just because we had a child together, but because I’d been falling for her for years. I wouldn’t let the last nine months of our lives define her. She deserved more than that. She’d had one man who couldn’t support her through hard times, and I wasn’t going to be a coward like him.

Even if she never wanted to marry me, I was hers. Finley wasn’t the only thing tying us together, and if she needed me to love her harder over the next few months while we tried to get through this rough spot, I would. Because I was going to need her to lean on soon, and I was afraid she’d fall apart if I couldn’t hold us both afloat.

Pop’s health had been declining, Hutch and I having more conversations than we would like about putting him in a care facility, but Ma was still holding out. We were both struggling through some pretty heavy things right now, but I wasn’t going to let either of them push us apart. Both of us deserved to be happy. I just wished I’d done more for Isobel, so things didn’t get to this point.

Finley chugged her way through a bottle once we got back to my apartment and then passed out, peacefully sleeping on my chest. I knew I should get up to feed myself, but she was only this little once. Her tiny lips quivered as I gazed at her, cataloging all the ways she looked like her mother. I was going to have to use the next thirteen years to prepare myself for when she was a teenager, because she was going to get me into trouble. With her pink pouty lips, the dimples she had started showing off when she smiled, and her deep blue eyes, she was going to be a heartbreaker.

I only hoped her mother didn’t break mine.

The buzzing of my phone awoke me, and I yawned as I blindly felt across the bed to find it. The faint sounds of tiny breaths came from the crib on the other side of the room, and I hoped Fin would stay asleep for a little longer.

My phone buzzed again, and I lifted Isobel’s pillow, finding it stuffed underneath.

The screen went blank as I turned it to face me, and a missed call alert popped up on the screen. Isobel had been trying to call, and I missed it.

Another alert scrolled across the screen for a voicemail before I could get it unlocked.

Since I’d accidentally fallen asleep with my glasses on, the face identification kept popping up a failure alert until I ripped them off and chucked them at my nightstand. Finley startled after they hit the surface, and I cursed that I’d woken her up.

Giving up on my phone momentarily, I scooped my grumpy girl up, holding her to my bare chest and heading toward the kitchen to make her a bottle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy is a mess this morning. Let’s get you fed so you don’t start waking the neighbors.”

Normally on Saturday mornings, we’d take her for a walk to a park close to my place if we stayed here, but going without Isobel somehow felt wrong. I didn’t want to do this parenting thing by myself. I knew she was worried about failing, but from what my brother had told me over the years, none of us knew what we were doing. We just had to try to mold our tiny people into good humans despite our very adult flaws.

Finley’s little fist flexed in my chest hair, and I winced as she pulled, sounding as frustrated and adrift as I felt. “I know, baby girl, I miss Mommy too.”

Bouncing her on my hip, I got a bottle ready and returned to the couch to feed her. Her little eyes were a carbon copy of mine, and they tracked my movements while she clung to my fingers holding the bottle. She wasn’t quite ready to hold it on her own, but it was only a matter of time. Part of me wanted to fast forward to her being a little more independent, but I knew these moments were fleeting.

Sooner than I was ready for, she’d turn into the snarky teen I saw in my niece. Pen was already as tall as my Ma, and it was weird to see the little girl I used to carry around on my shoulders growing into an almost adult.

“You need to stay this little forever,” I whispered, stroking her cheek. Milk leaked out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled up at me, dribbling down my bare chest. “But maybe you could also start sleeping. That’d be awesome.”

I could hear my phone buzzing from the other room and knew I should go find it, but I was soaking in the quiet morning.

Fin’s eyelids started drooping, her once voracious sucks turning into little lip quivers as she drifted. “Don’t even think about it. It’s not time for a nap yet. Maybe we should start some of that tummy time stuff I know you hate.”

She squawked as I stood, bouncing her a bit as I rubbed her back. Of course, I’d made a rookie mistake and she spit up on my chest—again—sour milk embedding itself into my chest hair, but at least she hadn’t pulled a full-on Exorcist head spin.

“Guess we’re doing tummy time in the bathroom.” Gathering the mat and play pillow, I balanced everything on one arm as I tried to keep her from rubbing herself in the spit-up cementing itself into my abs. Babies were gross.

“But maybe we should change your diaper first since you already made a mess of Daddy.” As if on cue, she grunted, and the sound of a tiny explosion could be felt through her diaper against my arm. “That’s just nasty. No wonder Mommy is worn out. You really are a little demon.”

I expected her to cry at the smell, but she laughed, cementing my nickname for her even more.

Trying not to gag as I saved her from the toxic waste in her diaper, I double bagged that shit—literally—and sealed it into a Ziploc before I stashed it at the bottom of the bathroom trash can. I definitely needed to take that to the trash chute sometime soon. I’d thought I’d seen and smelled some pretty disgusting things throughout my lifetime. Hell, I’d spent time in an MLB locker room during Spring Training after playing in 90-degree heat, but nothing compared to the smell of a ripe diaper that’d been left to decay for too long.

Finley was all smiles as I propped her up on the little pillow that was tucked underneath her armpits, her eyes tracking the crinkly toys attached to the front of it as she tried to pick them up with her tiny fingers.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I warned her, stripping off my bottoms and climbing into the shower.

I was hopeful I’d make it through before she unleashed her scream of holy terror, but just as I was washing the shampoo from my hair, Finley let out a shriek that I was sure the neighbors could hear through the floor. Maybe I needed to invest in noise-cancellation headphones for Isobel for Mother’s Day. I wasn’t sure how she made it through the day with Fin with her hearing intact.

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