Page 30 of The Fake Family Deal

“No way. You sit here. I can tuck her in. You rest.”

“Really?” she says, a light flush rising on her cheeks as she says it. “You don’t have to.”

“I’ve seen how it’s done enough times now. Rest.”

Without thinking, I brush my thumb over Marina’s head, her soft hair flowing beneath my fingertips, my own breath catching in my throat. I scoop Lila up, cradling her carefully in my arms, and Marina smiles up at me. “Thank you,” she whispers.

I carry Lila through to the nursery, and as we cross the room she starts gurgling as if she’s about to cry. “Shh, please don’t,” I hush her, rocking her. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Her face crumples in on itself, but the second she hits the sheets, she realizes that she’s heading for sleep, and settles herself. She must be so tired.

I wander over to the stack of books and pick one I haven’t read yet. I still haven’t come to find an appreciation for children’s literature, but Lila seems to enjoy herself. One night, I had to get through three books before she finally passed out.

“Okay, ready?” I say, then launch into the tale. It’s another of these vaguely rhyming animal stories, this time about a sad lion who escapes from a zoo to head back to the jungle. These saccharine morality tales don’t do it for me, but seeing Lila laugh at my dumb voices makes it worth it.

Even more so when I catch Marina smiling at it too.

Lila soon falls asleep fast, and I sit with her for a second to make sure she’s really out. Her little chest rises and falls, and it’s hard to believe that someone so small will one day be a full person of her own, able to walk and argue and stay up too late.

She stretches her tiny hands and clenches them into tiny fists, and I sit and stare, unable to do anything but be enchanted by her.

All this time, I’ve never seen myself as the kind of guy who would ever have or want a family. After all, I’m not exactly dad material. Or at least, I didn’t think I was. I’ve never cared about babies before, but I think I’m falling in love with this one.

Even though it’s only been a week, it’s going to be a struggle to let them go. Everything has changed, and after three weeks of this, it’s going to be so strange, so empty knowing they’re not coming back. I could do without the cameras, but not having Lila’s laughter to light up the place is going to be a loss.

I’d even live with the horrible colors in my apartment if it meant I could keep them.

So much of this is outside my skill set, and I’ve spent so much time feeling utterly out of my depth, from painting to feeding, but every skill I learn for Lila feels like a gift. And none of it would be possible without Marina’s guidance. Her patience is more profound than I could have imagined.

If I were as tired as she must be all the time, I’d be an awful person. I guess having a baby makes you selfless in ways you could never expect.

I blow Lila’s sleeping form one final kiss, then tiptoe out of the room.

Marina is exactly where I left her, on the sofa, half-dozing. Quietly, I head over and sit down beside her, leaving a respectable distance between our legs. She cracks her eyes open and smiles at me.

“She’s a good kid,” I say, slightly to myself.

“Thank you,” whispers Marina, her voice heavy with sleep. “She is.”

She leans back again, against the cushions, her eyes shut tight shut, her hair forming an auburn pillow around her head, and she breathes out hard. I can see the pulse flickering in her throat,exposed and pale, and I have to swallow the shaky gasp that threatens to escape from my mouth.

She is utterly gorgeous.

“You know the other day,” I start, my mouth opening automatically as if I have to fill the silence in with words. “You asked me about friends?”

Her forehead crinkles in confusion, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “Mmm? What about it?”

I close my own eyes before my confession. “The thing is, I don’t have any. Because I’m too career-focused. That’s what all my report cards used to say. Too career-focused. Doesn’t care about other people enough. I guess I never did. Not until…”

I trail off, and Marina opens one eye a sliver to stare out at me. “Until what?”

“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head to try and get ahold of myself. “I must be tired.”

“Me too,” says Marina. “But you get used to that with a new baby. Having a baby makes you feel like you’re never going to sleep again.”

“I don’t know how you’ve done it. Raising Lila all by yourself. You deserve a break. You need someone to look after you.”

She smiles sadly, her eyes so tired and deep that I can’t look away. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

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