Page 30 of Devious Whims

Devon comes into the nursery, glancing at the faint red light of the bottle warmer. After we finished setting up the room, he didn’t visit it much.

He clears his throat quietly. “I was already awake.”

Her little legs wiggle in my hands as I change her diaper and I smile, enamored by everything with her. It’s only been a few days since we got home from the hospital and we’re starting to get into a routine. I’ve always wanted children, being an only child myself. My parents had me when they were already in their forties, and died when I was in my teens. So when Cami wanted to have babies young, I nearly cried with relief.

I nod to the warmer as it beeps. “Can you grab that? Did you want to feed her?”

Devon hesitates, scratching at the back of his neck. I look up at him as I pick the baby and face him.

“It’s okay to be unsure. This is all our first time being parents,” I tell him.

He grimaces. “You seem to have figured it out,” he mutters, moving to the dresser and grabbing the bottle. He wipes the water off the sides and turns off the warmer.

“Sit in the chair,” I say. Devon sits down and I grab the rounded c-shape pillow from the crib and set it in his lap. Shifting Eliza into a more secure hold, I arrange the pillow in the best position to feed her. He sits there as still as a statue. “Hold your elbow out, it should cradle the back of her head,” I instruct him.

When he does, I set her in his arms. He studies her little face before he moves the bottle to her mouth and she quickly latches on.

I grin, watching them for a second before cleaning up the dirty diaper from the changing table and dumping the water from the warmer. I can feel Devon’s eyes every once in a while as I move throughout the room, making sure everything is in place for Cami in the morning.

Folding the last of the washed clothes, I check to see how empty her bottle is and catch his stare again.

“Not so bad, right?” I say, then chuckle. “The more you hold her, the more you get confident and comfortable. It won’t be so awkward.”

Devon blinks and my smile drops when I notice the sheen in his eyes before he turns away from me to look back down at our daughter. A pang of fear hits my heart, wondering if he’s planning to leave us. Now that the baby is here has he decided he can’t do this anymore?. It would break Cami, and it would break my heart for both of my girls.

“I don’t think there’s a single picture of my dad holding me,” he whispers. His finger traces along Eliza’s cheek.

I swallow the lump growing in my throat, realizing the pain I had noticed in his face had been for something else entirely. “Well, your dad is kind of a dick.”

His lips lift on one side and he lets out a laugh. “Yeah, more than kind of.”

Setting the clothes down, I move closer to toss him a burp rag. “Throw it over your shoulder so you can burp her.”

I grab the empty bottle from him, and show him how to hold her and watch as he pats her back carefully.

“You know Cami would go feral to see you like this,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, but the smile hasn’t left his face. When an ungodly loud burp comes from the tiny creature in his hands we both flinch and start laughing.

Devon pulls her back so their faces are lined up. “You feel better after that, little one?”

“Oh. I wouldn’t do that. You’re in the splash zone. Sometimes she spits up a lot,” I say.

His eyes widen and he moves her back to his chest, holding her so her cheek is resting on the soft rag. He settles back in the chair, rocking slowly and tapping her butt in a gentle rhythm.

“See, you got this,” I assure him, giving a thumbs up.

His eyebrows knit together and he glares at my hand. “Don’t ever thumbs up me again.”

Sighing, I move back to the clothes as I shake my head. We stay in silence as he puts her back to sleep and I finish up the laundry.

“I didn’t see it at first, you know,” Devon says.

My jaw tightens, knowing where this conversation is going, but I don’t look up at him.

“I thought you were weak, and she was just too scared to let go of you or hurt your feelings. But…” he continues, his voice wavering as he pauses. “I don’t think we could have survived without you.”

My eyes lift to his confession, confused about what he means.

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