Page 41 of Return To You

I grab my pack of smokes and pull one out.

I shouldn’t have waited because seeing her dote all over a child that could be another man’s is fucking gut-wrenching.

I go to put the smoke between my lips but halt when she places the kid on a harness on the front of the bike, his hands clapping as he grins. I watch as the kid looks my way, and everything in me stills, the smoke that I thankfully didn’t light dropping to the floor.

He has dark red hair and freckles like Rose, but his smile, dark blue eyes, and jawline are all his father.

He’s all me….

Fuck what did I do?

My mouth parts as she pushes the bike toward the sidewalk, but I don’t follow, pain and horror killing me slowly.

She had my baby all alone….

Gina lied to me, which means she lied about the photo, and the four-month bump she swore she saw….

Oh, fuck no…. Did my fucking sister ruin my life all so she could stay on Piper’s good side?

thirteen

Rose – Two Days Later

I smileas Diego splashes in the tub, trying to get the remaining bubbles. I cannot express how grateful I am that he still fits in the baby bathtub I bought at a flea market for a dollar fifty.

He’s still too little to shower, and the kitchen sink is just too small for him. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when he outgrows this tub and I have to use the shower with him.

The boy loves his baths….

Mom guilt hits, knowing I won’t be able to afford a place with a tub anytime soon, but I try to ignore it. I squeeze the plastic duck floating around, making him squeal in delight when it squeaks. His dark blue eyes light up, looking just like his father’s did when he looked at me under the stars. My heart instantly aches, and I hate that it does.

It’s been two days since I last saw Noah.

I’m not sure what happened, but he’s disappeared—or, well, he’s not been around me, at least. I know he was at the daycare center—I’m not stupid. I didn’t have to look up to know he was watching me.

Maybe seeing Diego caused him to pull another runner, that wouldn’t surprise me. I mean, he saw a picture that was innocent and fled like his butt was on fire.

Diego splashes the water in my face, and I chuckle, gently booping his nose with the end of my finger, making him giggle. I lift him out of the water, and place him on the towel I laid out for him.

He kicks his arms and legs, and then tries to roll over to crawl away, still unable to walk.

I giggle. “No, you don’t, squishy bum," I coo, and quickly wrap him up in his towel, and stand before he can get away.

Carefully, I take him to his room, lie him on the small changing table, and dry him while humming “My Petal.” Diego watches my every move, smiling, kicking his arms and legs, and I lather him up with his baby lotion.

Carefully, I clean underneath his nails, then cream his bottom up, and put on a diaper, before dressing him in his guitar print onesie. I grin when he squeezes his hands and babbles, “Ma-ma-ma-ma.”

Knowing exactly what he wants, I pick him up and hold him close, allowing him to play with my hair as I sit on the secondhand rocking chair.

I unbutton my top—Noah’s black button-down shirt, to be precise—and he latches on, his right hand gripping my necklace as I nurse him before bed. He’s on some solids now but still likes to nurse in the evenings, and drinks expressed bottled milk during the day.

After I gave birth, I didn’t have a choice in nursing him. I didn’t have money for formula, and the hospital had donated a hand breast pump. Honestly, the bond I had with Diego from nursing was probably the best feeling in the world, though I don’t think it’ll be long before he stops, and it’s a little disheartening to think of.

He’s growing up, and I hate it, but love to watch, all at the same time.

It doesn’t take long before he falls asleep, and I smile, pulling my bra back in place, and gently lift him over my shoulder, rubbing his back as he snores away.

He lets out a few silent burps in his sleep, making me smile, but I continue giving him a back rub for about ten minutes, not wanting him to get a bellyache.

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