Page 27 of Unexpected Delivery

Arbor heaves herself out of the bed and steps over to the cart.

My head tilts as I try to figure out what she’s doing. She places her hand on Gracie’s stomach and tilts her head close to the cart. Once she’s done, she wheels the baby bed over to the edge of the hospital bed and climbs back in.

She wiggles around, getting comfortable, and grimaces when she spots me watching. “Sorry, my head wouldn’t let it go. I had to make sure she’s still breathing.”

“No judgment here,” I assure her.

She’s really goddamn cute, but I’m not sure that’s an appropriate thought to have when she just popped out a baby less than twenty-four hours ago. It’s probably better to shelve those thoughts for a week or two.

By the time Hayes wakes up and realizes he never opened the gym or called to make sure someone else did, it’s early afternoon. He heads out to handle some calls while Morris does the same, which I’m betting revolves around Arbor’s car.

Now that I’m thinking about it, one of us is going to need to retrieve the car seat from her trunk before she and Gracie are released.

Arbor heads to the bathroom, so I fold up the blankets and toss the pillows in a pile on the Murphy bed.

The baby starts grunting, which turns to loud fusses almost immediately.

My head swivels, but yeah, I’m still the only one in here. Wiping my sweaty palms off on my jeans, I stride over to check on Gracie. Her face is red, and she struggles against the blanket she’s wrapped up in.

Okay, I can do this.

I’ve already held her when she was just born.

Wash your fucking hands before you touch her.It’s like I can hear Hayes’s voice in my head. Handling that as quickly as possible without skimping on the scrub time, I go back to the baby cart.

Gracie is officially pissed. Her shrill cries make my skin itch.

Okay, so, do the damn thing and pick up the baby.Hyping myself up doesn’t help much when the thought of fucking something up makes my stomach flip-flop.

The baby kicks at her blanket, and I scoop her up, taking extra care to support her head. It seems weird that some animals are born able to hop up and run, but human beings can’t even support our own heads for months.

Her little wails turn to unhappy fusses as I rock her against my chest.

“You’re so tiny, it feels like one small mistake could be a huge disaster, but I promise I’m not going to drop you,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head over the cap. “Okay, how about we check your diaper to see if that’s what has you so cranky? That way, you’ll be all clean for Mommy when she’s done with her bathroom visit.”

I carefully place her down, gently unroll her from the blanket, and pop the pacifier in her mouth. She starts sucking like it’s a boob, which seems like a solid distraction. They’ve got her in a long sleeve shirt-dress thing without legs, and that’s a good thing because I’m working with minimal knowledge here.

The nurse said to wipe front to back and to note the diaper on the chart.

That seems simple enough. Grabbing a fresh diaper and the wipes, I toss them in the extra area above her head and eye the straps of her diaper.

I can do this.

I think.

Probably.

“Ahh, shit. I forgot about the umbilical cord thing. I think that was probably traumatic for both of us, but we survived, and we’ll beast mode this diaper change too.” Rolling my shoulders back, I peel the little yellow tabs out of the way and pray for only pee. “Oh, thank God.” I grab the wipes, clean her up, then roll them up in the diaper, tugging it from under her bottom as I go. I chuck it in the garbage can and unwrap the new diaper. “You’re so light, it’s like lifting nothing.” I hold her socked feet and pull her up enough to get the pee holder in place.

Only, I put the damn thing on backward or upside down.

Something is not right.

It’s about this time Gracie decides she’s officially done with my shit. She spits out the pacifier and screeches.

“I didn’t know human beings could make that particular sound, so good job on proving me wrong,” I say, finally getting the diaper situated and fastened. “All right, we did it.” My hand slides under her arm and up her back to support her neck as I lift her again. I’m probably supposed to be washing my hands again, but she’s pissed. Her entire body scrunches as her legs pull up to her chest, and I chuckle. “I was wondering how you fit in there, but it all makes perfect sense now.”

I sway around the room, trying to calm the angry baby.

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