Page 46 of Unexpected Delivery

Morris

Gracie is growing so damn fast, but it’s clear to see Arbor is in the thick of it. We’re all straddling a fine line between being available when Arbor needs or wants help and not pushing to the point where she says enough is enough. She’s had a hell of a week, especially the couple of nights right before Gracie’s one-month checkup.

Everything went fine, and Gracie doesn’t need to be seen again until she turns two months old, but Arbor was convinced something was wrong. And to be fair, the doctor said Gracie might have a touch of colic, though only a mild case.

I’ve done a lot of research in the days since that doctor’s appointment, and colic is apparently a broad term for anything that causes a baby to cry consistently, even when their needs have been met.

It’s just one of those things. It’s not ideal, but it would be so much easier for all of us if Arbor would occasionally tap us in on baby duty.

Gracie is perfect, even if she’s stretching Arbor’s nerves thin. We just need the stubborn little omega to start delegating duties. She would get a hell of a lot more sleep, and the three of us would feel a fuck of a lot less helpless.

Isn’t support and not having to do everything on her own one of the main benefits of having a pack?

Not that Arbor has accepted that she’s ours, but we’re putting in effort.

We’ve spent the last four weeks quietly courting the hell out of her, and when she’s mentally prepared to accept our interest, we’ll loudly court her.

Every night, Gracie gets fussy around nine or ten p.m. Arbor was watching a movie with me in the living room, but once Gracie woke up, wailing, she took the baby to her room to breastfeed.

She might think she’s being sneaky about the tears she’s shed recently, but she’s not. And I haven’t figured out how to broach the subject.

Do I let my instincts take the lead and barrel in to hold her until she feels better?

Would that just embarrass her even more?

I’ve told her multiple times that I’m happy to take shifts overnight. But ever since the three of us went back to work, she’s stopped asking for help completely unless it’s during the day.

It’s fucking maddening not to know how to ease her stress.

She doesn’t run off during the day if she needs to nurse. That alone tells me it’s not a comfortability issue. It feels like she doesn’t want to burden us with listening to a fussy baby, but truth be told, I have literal nightmares about what it would be like to go back to having an empty house.

My days are brighter now than they ever have been, and I want to ease Arbor’s burden.

I would gladly takeallthe night shifts and still get up and go to work every day. Seeing how exhausted she is from trying to do it all alone is starting to piss me off.

We’re here.

She just needs to take advantage of the help we’re desperate to offer.

Grabbing the remote, I shut off the movie we were watching. I’m in motion, stomping toward her bedroom before I can stop myself.

The door isn’t closed all the way.

Arbor sways back and forth, not walking but gliding her hips as she holds Gracie in the crook of her arm. She sniffles, shaking her head. “You’re mostly calm when I hold you, but I know the second I put you down, you’re going to start fussing. You really are a sweet baby—during the day, at least. And I know you’re not purposely trying to be difficult. I’m sure you’re crying for a reason. I just suck at being a mom, so I can’t figure out what’s causing you so much distress.”

She sighs, nuzzling her cheek to Gracie’s head. “Everyone says this time flies by, but it feels like I’ve been tired for years. I’m sure I’ll look back on this one day and laugh, but honestly, I’m so exhausted, I’m constantly on the verge of bursting into tears, and I really don’t want those to be your first memories of me.” She turns from the bed to look out the window and continues swaying. “I haven’t showered in two or three days.” She pauses. “God, maybe more like three or four. That can’t be right. And at the same time, if I laid you down and you magically didn’t cry, I wouldn’t run to take a shower. I’d face-plant onto the mattress and pray for at least a two-hour stretch of sleep.”

My chest gets tight.

We’ve fucked up big time.

I thought I’d made it clear that she and Gracie aren’t a burden we’re enduring, but she has no income. She’s offered to pay us back for things here or there out of the money she supposedly has in savings, which we’ve shut down. Still, if I put myself in her position, it’s not hard to imagine she’s worried she might overstay her welcome. Or that we’ll get tired of providing for the two of them.

When we first brought her home, I thought she would grow more comfortable in her place here the longer she stayed, but I think she’s feeling like a long-term guest who’s waiting to be told they’re being evicted.

Fuck me.

With her coming out of a questionable relationship, we didn’t want to move too fast, but the longer we go without declaring our intent to court her, the more time she’s had to convince herself that we aren’t interested.

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