Page 57 of The Secret

“She’s about to have her bath so I’m letting her have some air before another diaper goes on.” Kit called from the bathroom just as a whoosh of water hit the tub.

I smiled down at my daughter, squeezing her chubby little legs. “That sounds sensible, doesn’t it?”

Bell blew a spit bubble in agreement. I lifted her up off the mat and carried her through, where the scent of lavender hit like we were walking through a field of it. She kicked excitedly as I placed her in the little bath hammock she had to lay back in. Bell loved bath time, and in the last week, she’d started splashing so much it usually required a change of clothing.

“You’re gonna smell so good, Bells.” I turned to Kit, “I need to go and sort a few things out, but I’ll be back for her bottle.”

“Okay,” she smiled, kneeling down by the side of the tub, as Bell produced another kick, showering her in water. I didn’t turn around as she laughed loudly, not wanting to see what I was positive would be Kit wearing a very thin, white, now wet, t-shirt.

I changed into sweats and went down to the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine and turned on the oven. Kit and I hadn’t ever really eaten together before, because as soon as Bell was asleep, she would stay in her room with her in case she woke, and I would stay up reading the markets’ news from the day. I had asked her before but she never took me up on it, and I didn’t push the point because I always thought it was probably for the best.

That was going to change tonight.

I’d realized when I got to the grocery store I had no clue if there was anything she didn’t like, so I picked up a lot. A lot. We’d be eating this for a while.

Luca, the guy who always helped me out whenever I went into Citarella, was aware I hadn’t been blessed with the cooking gene and only ever handed me dishes with limited instructions that any idiot could heat up. He’d come through for me once more, because everything was to be heated at the same temperature for the same amount of time.

Easy peasy.

I threw it all in the oven and prayed for success. There would be nothing worse than ruining the first dinner I’d made for Kit, even if she wasn’t entirely aware that’s what it was.

She was fastening Bell’s sleep suit by the time I got back upstairs, the heavy, warm scent of lavender and chamomile filling the air to soporific levels. It didn’t go unnoticed by me that Kit had a different, dry shirt on.

“Hello, darling,” I cooed softly, collecting her warm bottle from a table in the corner which Kit had turned into the baby equivalent of a mini bar. “Time for bed.”

I lifted her off the changing mat and moved to the big rocking chair which Freddie had installed, while Kit started picking up all of Bell’s laundry.

She started drinking hungrily and I watched her gulp it down until she closed her eyes in concentration, as she liked to do, her little fists opening and closing while she drank.

“There’s a glass of wine for you downstairs, and I’ve made some dinner for us,” I said quietly into the semi-dark room, trying to sound as casual as possible.

She didn’t answer immediately but her pause as she bent to grab a sock which had fallen, told me she’d heard.

“Oh, I can grab something later. Don’t worry about me; I’ll wait until she’s properly asleep.”

“No, I’ll do that. You go and relax, have a drink, and let’s have dinner together.” I tore my eyes away from Bell and over to Kit. “I’m sorry I left so early this morning; I had a breakfast meeting.”

She looked over to me with valid uncertainty, especially after what happened last night.

Whatnearlyhappened last night.

“Okay. Sure. Sounds good,” she answered after a beat, stroking Bell’s head softly and placing a cloth on my shoulder. “Night, night, little Bell. Sweet dreams, baby.”

“I’ll see you downstairs,” I called softly as she closed the door behind her, pushing away the nerves that were attempting to make an appearance.

It didn’t take long until Bell almost finished the bottle. My daughter liked to eat. Although her nighttime one was never quite empty because she’d always fall asleep before the end. She’d grown so much in the last week, let alone in the six she’d been with me, nearly doubling her weight. Laurie had been around to check on her each week, and she moved to nearly the top of her percentile, like the absolute champion I knew she was. I smiled as her lips suctioned back on when I tried to remove it from her mouth, waiting for the tiny dream cry of protest as I took it away, and laid her across my chest until I coaxed a burp from her.

The things I now felt proud about had changed significantly, because getting my daughter to burp was right up there on the list, along with how well she was growing.

She barely stirred as I kissed her head, then laid her down in the crib and switched the nightlight on. Once I was certain she wasn’t going to wake up, I headed back to the kitchen, Barclay hot on my heels, desperate for his own dinner time.

Kit was leaning across the kitchen island, pen in hand and reading over the crossword I hadn’t finished, and since the other week, I’d purposely started leaving clues for her to do. Her thick hair fell over her shoulder in caramel waves hiding half of her face, but the second she heard me she glanced up, her brown eyes flashed warm and inviting.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” I poured out some wine for her, then topped my own glass up before pulling up the nanny cam app so I could hear Bell if she stirred. “How much more did you fill in?”

“Only four.” She looked over her glass as she picked up her wine and sipped, her eyes sparkling in amusement. “Mmmm, this is good. Something smells good too. What is it?”

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