Page 15 of A Biker's Tiny Present

Tiny gets settled in my favorite chair in the house, and I pass Nicky over, laying him down in his arms. After a few adjustments, mostly arm placement to help keep the bottle angled to avoid Nicky drinking air bubbles, and they’re set. Anyone who has fed a baby knows that air bubbles are a no-no. Babies sneeze and poop and burp enough as it is, it is no fun to have a baby spit up everything it just drank.

“Want some coffee?” I hold up a mug like he needs to see and hear me from across the room.

“Ummm.” Looking flustered with the baby in his arms, Tiny shakes his head. “When he’s done eating.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” then I hear him mumbles, “stubborn woman.”

I ignore his ramblings and pour him a fresh cup.

I carry both our mugs in the living room and set his on the end table beside him, out of reach of the soon to be wiggly baby.

Not so gracefully, I plop my ass down on the couch and sink in further than I did yesterday. A spring pokes me in the butt so I scoot to another cushion. Unfortunately for me, this spot isn’t much better.

“That couch looks like it’s seen some better days,” Tiny chuckles.

“Yea,” I can’t help but join him and laugh, “but it’s all we’ve got until I can afford a new one.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

I stand up and cross my arms. I’d like to remain all the way stubborn about this, but my backside couldn’t stand the poking springs anymore. Maybe he’s right. Maybe . . . no, I can’t let him buy me a new couch. Any good brands worth a damn are out of my current budget. If I can’t afford something, I can’t expect someone else to buy it for me.

“You can’t do that,” I gripe, but it sounds more like a whine.

“Why not?”

“It’s not your responsibility.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.” We volley yeses and nos for a bit before he brings out the big guns.

“Yes, it is. Just like it’snotyour responsibility to have been raising my kid but you did it anyway. Very selflessly might I add.”

“It’s what family does.” I shrug, to try and brush off the compliment.

“And Nicky is my family.” He points at me with one finger while the others hold the bottle for Nicky. “And so are you now.”

I notice the bottle is halfway gone, so I grab a burp rag, lay it over his shoulder, then show Tiny how to swivel Nicky and burp him.

“Wow.” He sounds surprised as the burps come out and he lays him back down to finish his breakfast. “He didn’t spit up.”

“He’s a good eater.” I smooth down a few wild strands of Nicky’s hair, then sit on the edge of the coffee table and watch the somehow unlikely pair continue to bond.

“Krew, Whiskey and Duchess’s baby, was a puker for a while ‘til they figured out the right formula for him. Doc said it was also why he wasn’t sleepin’ through the night like he should’ve been. Reflux somethin’ or other.”

“That can be a scary situation if a baby has digestion issues or is allergic to a certain brand of formula.” I made the mistake of reading too many mommy vlogs, those things will give you nightmares. “We’ve been lucky with this little guy. He’s been eating and sleeping and pooping like a pro since day one.”

“I hate that I missed it.” Tiny’s face drops and the room feels twenty degrees colder somehow.

Way to go, Riley. Way to bum the guy out when he’s already feeling bad enough about the situation.

“I begged Tay to tell me who the dad was, but she refused. By the time the sixth month of her pregnancy rolled around, any time I’d ask, she’d snap at me and say it was none of my business. After a couple more tries, it wasn’t worth the fight.”

“Still sucks.” His eyes find mine and we lock, neither wanting to be the first to look away. “I would’ve been here and involved if I knew.”

I nod. “I probably should have asked you this yesterday, but do you have any other kids? Any other baby mommas running around I should know about?”

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