Page 42 of Unexpected Delivery

Arbor and I eat in the diner and order food to drop off to Morris and Hayes. The baby sleeps through the entire meal, but I have to bite my tongue every time the waitress reaches over the table to point at Gracie.

Hell, I have no shame.

Next time she tries, I’ll gently push her arm away.

Arbor snags her purse from beside her on the booth and begins scooting out. “I need the bathroom. Can you watch Gracie?”

“Absolutely,” I assure her, but she’s already practically running toward the back of the restaurant.

Damn.

I wanted to spoil her by taking her shopping in person for a phone.

Morris and I talked about buying one while we were out yesterday, but we’re trying to slowly ease her into accepting all the things she needs.

I’m also the one that pushed for us to eat here rather than getting takeout.

My head shakes.

She’s still dealing with all that after-birth stuff. Not to mention how germy people can be. It took all the people cooing at Gracie for me to realize it, but Arbor would probably be a lot more comfortable at home. Spoiling her with gifts and meals eaten out can wait.

Right now, she’ll feel safest nesting and lounging around the house.

This is why people call me a fuckup. Even when I’m trying to be a gentleman, I manage to make the wrong call.

We stop by the shop and the gym, but I text them when we’re in the parking lot, so they can come out and grab their food.

Once that’s handled, we head home.

Arbor settles on the couch and begins to feed the fussy baby after a rotten diaper change. It’s kinda impressive how rancid her diapers smell when she’s so damn tiny. I take care of tossing that and even empty the kitchen trash to keep the smell from lingering.

I make it back inside, wash my hands, and head into the living room.

The little omega lies against the couch cushion on the long end of the sectional.

Flashbacks of the night Gracie was born file through my mind, and I’m right back there. A rolling wave of discomfort makes my stomach tighten. I’ve never been more afraid in my entire life.

Things could have gone so much differently, but Hayes managed. Just like he handles everything without fucking up. He’s always had his shit together.

I sigh.

Feeling jealousy toward my twin gets me nowhere.

I stride over, grab the breastfeeding pillow, and bring it to Arbor.

Gracie’s little fist rests on top of Arbor’s full breast as I help her get the pillow situated.

“I read last night that a closed fist means a baby is hungry, while a relaxed hand is a good indicator that they’re full.” I grin, stretching out next to them. “She might not be able to talk, but apparently babies can give us clues on what they’re experiencing.”

“You’re reading about babies?”

“Fuck, yeah. I want to know what to expect.” I grimace. “I’ll work on cleaning up the language before she can talk.”

She snorts. “Hopefully I won’t still be squatting in your house by the time she learns to speak.” We obviously have different views on how we’d like the future to go because I don’t think she realizes how attached I already am to her and the peanut. “Still, that’s very sweet, and I really appreciate the effort.” Her hand flies up, rubbing at the side of her breast. “I think Gracie passed out, and my boobs are convinced she’s supposed to be chowing down. Breastfeeding is a whole lot harder than I was expecting, and I anticipated that it would be tough.”

Tossing a thumb toward the kitchen, I ask, “Do you want me to grab the cabbage? Nana had us put some in the freezer just in case, although I have no idea what it’s supposed to do or why she swears it’ll help. Or I could grab the portable pumps. We got the little bags and everything, so you can refrigerate anything you get.” I move to shove myself up. “Hey, maybe that way, we could feed her a bottle here or there.”

Arbor’s head tilts, and she smiles softly. “You’re going to spoil me rotten, but I think I’ll try to pump.”

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