Page 163 of Things We Burn

Another laugh burst from me.

Fiona smiled. It was warm and lit up her whole face.

“I respect the fight of doing it alone,” she continued. “But it’s time to wave the white flag. We’re here, and we’re not letting you do it alone. Because, babe, I consider one of the greatest crimes another mother can commit against another is to not help another when she’s able. So hold the fuck on, bitch, we’re here to help.”

I couldn’t bring myself to argue.

I didn’t want to.

So I held the fuck on.

Fiona unpacked the food, spoke a mile a minute, helped with Mabel when she woke and didn’t leave until Kane arrived home.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could handle things.

And so the rotation of the Jupiter women started.

Nora was next. Pregnant herself, she came with her husband Rowan and their daughter Ana. Rowan I’d seen at the café a few times. He was tall, muscular and absurdly handsome. He also seemed to only smile for his wife and daughter. He lit up for them. It had hurt to look at before.

Those days, not so much since I had a man who lit up for me too.

Rowan was a man of few words, but he was also a man unafraid of crying babies, handling Mabel with the ease and care of a skilled father.

“I’ll take her outside.” His voice was deep, serious, and just a little intimidating, even to me who was not easily intimidated. “Fresh air. It’s good for them.” He looked at me. “Also, you won’t be able to listen out for her cries and convince yourself it’s your job and only your job to go to her.”

He winked knowingly at me. I got the impression that a wink from Rowan was rare and likely not to be repeated.

Then he looked at Kane. “I’m thinking we’ll have a beer. You got any?”

“Oh, I’ve got beer.” Kane told Rowan before his eyes grazed mine. “You good here, Chef? Need anything?”

I shook my head. “Go drink beer, do man things.” I was trying not to marvel at how Mabel immediately nuzzled up against the strange man holding her, settling there effortlessly. Ifeared that if I looked too hard, I’d ruin it; she’d realize that five seconds ago, she was majorly pissed.

Kane kissed my forehead then my lips before going to the fridge and getting two beers.

Both Nora and I watched the men leave. Ana had already run off to the toy and baby product graveyard to find something to play with.

Nora looked me over. “You go have a shower or a long bath or scream into a pillow. I’ll whip us up a cake.”

I gaped at her. “It would be incredibly rude of me to leave a visitor here on her own. And I doubt I have the ingredients to ‘whip up a cake.” I struggled to catalog the contents of my fridge and pantry when that used to be second nature to me.

“It’s most certainly not rude. Actually, I would consider it rude if you stand here and make small talk with me when I’m guessing it feels like your brain is melting from the inside out from lack of sleep.” She smiled with empathy. “And you let me worry about the ingredients.” Though everything about the woman was sweet, serene, there was adamance in her tone.

I glanced to the glass doors, out to where I could see figures on the beach. A pang hit my chest because Rowan’s prediction was right; I couldn’t hear whether Mabel was crying or not which sent my heart rate skyrocketing. Yes, she might’ve been perfectly content right then, or she could’ve been screaming her head off.

“They’re fine,” Nora said after following my gaze. “I know a lot of men are arguably useless at this stage, but I got a good one. A great one. And I’m taking an educated guess that you did too. Mabel could not be safer out there with two progressive, feminist, alpha, girl dads. So go.” She shooed me with her hands.

I didn’t do well with taking orders in my own kitchen, hadn’t in years. Yet the kind, soft-spoken baker managed to obtain my submission with no argument.

So I did go upstairs. No screaming into a pillow or long bath- both felt too dramatic and indulgent respectively. But I did enjoy a long shower, not a rushed one where I heard phantom baby cries and came out with one leg shaved and unrinsed conditioner in my hair because I was convinced Kane needed help.

Even though he never needed my help.

I shaved both legs. Rinsed out the conditioner. And when I got out, I still didn’t hear cries, so I added the indulgence of blow drying my hair and putting on three steps of skincare instead of slapping moisturizer on my face with a shaky hand.

By the time I came downstairs, in clean clothes and feeling a lot saner than I had in a while, a smell not dissimilar to Nora’s bakery was wafting through my house.

Still no baby cries.

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