Page 68 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

He drops the lid and turns to me, wearing a scowl. “We can’t just figure it out when we get there?”

“No,” I drawl. “You need a list. I’m not the baby whisperer. I’m not going to magically know what your spawn needs just because I have ovaries. Figure it out.”

I’m not trying to bemean, but I can’t hold his hand through this thing. He’s a dad now. He has to step up and learn how to parent.

“I can do this,” he mutters more to himself than me. “I can handle it.”

“I’ll help some,” I concede. He did help me out with the hockey bitches tonight, so I can certainly return the favor. “But I’m not handling all of it by myself.”

He reaches out a hand to me. “Deal.”

17

DAIRE

A couple of months ago,I never could have imagined I’d be perusing the baby care aisles of Target on a Saturday, much less with Rosie at my side.

Tucking a piece of dark hair behind one ear, she scans the lineup of pacifiers with a furrowed brow, her lips parted.

I stare at the choices as well, appalled. “Why are there so many choose to from? And why are they all shaped differently?”

She plucks one off the shelf and shakes the plastic package, like maybe it’ll change form or something.

Lips pursed, she tilts her head, appraising them. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

With a sigh, she drops it into the cart, then she proceeds to add one of each kind.

I wince as each one hits the plastic cart, my eyes locked on Rosie.

“What?” she asks. “We don’t know which one Junior will prefer, and you can afford it.”

My chest goes so tight it’s hard to breathe. “I can’t do this,” I say, clutching at the collar of my T-shirt.

She turns slowly and takes me in with a surprisingly gentle expression. “You can. You’re his dad. You’ll figure it out.”

I haven’t voiced this part out loud. I’ve barely even been able tothinkit. “I’m scared.”

“Good.”

My stomach drops.I can’t have heard her right.

“Good?”

“Yeah.” She turns back to the smorgasbord of baby stuff. “I’d be concerned if you weren’t. This is a human being, not an old toaster you inherited.”

My lips quirk. “An old toaster?”

She flicks her fingers lazily, moving down the aisle toward the bottles. “It was the first thing that popped into my head. Sue me.”

She did that all the time when we were young. She’d come out with the most random explanations and scenarios. I think I missed that.

I think I missedher.

“Jesus. This is ridiculous.” She huffs. “One of each,” she declares, grabbing one bottle after another and tossing them into the cart. “Once we know what he likes, we can return what we didn’t open or donate it and get him more of what he does like.”

“All right,” I agree. Down another aisle, she leaves me to pick a camera monitor for his bedroom while she picks out crib bedding.

Babies need a lot of crap. More than I ever realized.

---