Page 32 of Unexpected Delivery

She jolts and frowns.

“What’s wrong?” I growl, trying to keep my voice low enough that it won’t wake Gracie.

Arbor’s head shakes, and she stares at her feet. “I just need the bathroom. I’m okay. I’m so sorry. Did her crying wake you?”

Well, I could use that as a solid excuse, but I don’t want her to feel guilty about something that didn’t happen.

“Not at all. I was up, and I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“Just the bathroom. Oh, and my boobs to stop throbbing.” Her hand flies to her face. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry. I haven’t been to sleep yet. Every time?—”

Gracie lets out a mighty fuss.

Arbor sighs. “That happens.”

“Go to the bathroom,” I say, grabbing her hips and pulling her out of the doorway. “I’ve got the baby.”

Her glassy eyes meet mine. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Take your time.” Bending down, I kiss her forehead and step into the room, wondering who the hell gave me permission to do that.

I make it over to the bassinet and scoop up the red-faced baby.

“Are you giving Mommy a tough time?” Placing her in the crook of my arm, I start swaying in the same way that settled her in the hospital. “Yeah, I know. You just wanna be held. That cold bed doesn’t do anything for you, huh?”

Gracie sputters, pushing her little lips together as her nostrils flare. She makes the cutest damn faces. They get me every time.

I pat her bottom, trying to keep her from starting up again with the tears. “After coming from a place where you’re warm, fed on demand, and floating around just enjoying life, it must be a real adjustment to be out in the world. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Her eyes pop open, and she almost looks startled to see me. It reminds me a little of the look Arbor gave me when she spotted me outside her door.

“I get it. Life is hard. See, what we really need is a rocking chair. I’m going to add that to my list. You only seem happy when someone is up moving around with you in their arms. That or when you’re gobbling down milk.” I chuckle as Gracie rolls her lips together. She’s so damn expressive for being so small. “It’s been a rough few days, huh, Gracie Girl? You have no idea how hard it’s been on your momma. She’s beat, but that’s okay. She’s going to have help. And before we know it, I bet you’ll be sleeping through the night.”

Her eyes roll back with her eyelids still open, but eventually they close.

Hell, I’m tired too.

I haven’t slept more than two or three hours in a row since we found Arbor on the way home from Sunday dinner. But I know if I’m tired, that means Arbor has to be dead on her feet.

“Nana is all up in arms that I wouldn’t let her come to the hospital to meet you. If I know that old woman, she’ll be over tomorrow,” I coo, trying to keep my voice light and melodic. I’ve always had a deep, growly voice, so who knows if it works, but Gracie no longer whines. “She’s in her seventies. She raised five kids and has almost twenty grandkids, but most of the family scattered. She’s going to absolutely melt over you.” Arbor comes back into the room, and I give her a soft smile, nodding to the bed. “Mommy is back, but we’re going to let her get some rest.”

When the little omega glances between me and the bed, I gesture toward it again. Even in the low light, her eyes are so damn blue.

Not only do I feel overly attached to the baby, I’m probably staring at her mom with heart eyes.

Yeah, I’m in real trouble.

Chapter Twelve

Arbor

It’s dark the next time I wake up.

Morris’s rich coffee scent is the first thing I process, followed quickly by his palm running over the back of my head. “Sorry, pretty girl. It’s been close to an hour and forty-five minutes. She’s giving all the hunger cues.”

I blink at his handsome face for several seconds while his words process in my exhausted mind. He’s got Gracie tucked in his forearm. She looks tiny compared to him, and he’s right. Her little face wiggles back and forth, like she’s looking for something to latch on to.

My eyes ache as I push myself up until I’m sitting. The move doesn’t feel great on my stitches, but I’m more focused on not allowing myself to cry. I’ve heard that the postpartum hormone swings are no joke, and combined with the lingering exhaustion, I’m about to burst into tears.

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