Page 29 of All of Me

She doesn’t look convinced. “Callie…”

“I just need a minute.” I step away from the counter, into the back room, and press my hands against the cool surface of the prep table. I knew today would be hard. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling I should be home with my girls instead of back here already. I expected to be asked about my daughters, especially Ruby, when I came back to work, but I didn’t expect it to stir feelings quite this strong. My heart hurts, and so do my freaking boobs.

I decide to take some time to myself in Brooke’s office, getting out my traveling breast pump so I can get some relief while I catch my breath. A few minutes later, Brooke knocks before poking her head in. “I can cover for you if you need to leave.”

I shake my head. “No.”

She tilts her head. “You sure?”

I inhale sharply, straightening my shoulders. “I need to do this, Brooke.”

She studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”

I finish up with the pump before heading back out to the front, my heart pounding. I’m not okay, not yet, but maybe if I keep moving forward, I’ll get there.

twelve

DAUGHTERS - JOHN MAYER

OWEN - DECEMBER 4 , 2013

The sound ofStrawberry Shortcakeon the television and Ruby’s cries hit me as soon as I open the front door, followed by Taylor’s exasperated voice. “Okay, okay, little miss drama queen. I hear you. Ava, can you grab that burp cloth? Sara, no! Don’t take your pants off!”

I step inside, kicking off my boots and shrugging off my jacket. The scene in the living room, like any other day, is pure chaos. Callie’s sister Taylor is bouncing Ruby on her hip. Her daughter Ava holds out a burp cloth, but maintains her distance so the baby doesn’t spit up on her. Sara is mid-strip, proudly tossing not only her pants but also her pull-up onto the couch.

“Well, this is one hell of a party,” I say, walking over to the couch to inspect the thankfully not dirty training pants with PrincessSofia the Firston them and tossing them in the diaper pail we keep in the living room because, let’s be honest, you’re going to change a babies diaper wherever they are willing to cooperate and that doesn’t always mean the changing table.

Taylor spins around, her face lighting up with relief. “Thank God you’re home,” she says, handing Ruby off to me with a huff. “Your youngest has been fussing nonstop, Sara has been no pants dancing all day long, and my kid is terrified of puke and thinks babies areSO disgusting, Mom.”

Ava crosses her arms, frowning. “I must not tell lies,” she huffs.

“You’re not wrong, kiddo. Babies are disgusting,” I tell her with a wink. “It’s not your fault Ruby is a puke machine.”

“My work here is done!” Taylor announces, sinking into the couch. “I think I did pretty well, all things considered. Sara’s still alive… Pantless, but alive. Ruby’s fed. Ava hasn’t abandoned me…”

“Yet!” Ava chides.

“And my baby fever is officially cured. I’m getting the number for Callie’s doctor as soon as she gets home and making an appointment to get my uterus removed completely. Fuck tying my tubes. I just want it gone! Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” she finishes, obviously mortified by her rant.

Taylor claps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she glances at Ava. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Ava doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s okay, Mom. I don’t want any siblings anyway. They puke and poop too much.”

I stifle a laugh, adjusting Ruby in my arms. Her cries taper off when she tugs on my beard.

Taylor groans, sinking further into the couch and covering her face with a throw pillow. “Callie’s going to kill me. Please don’t tell her I said that.”

“Not a chance,” I tease, bouncing a now smiling Ruby. “Although, you might owe Ava an ice cream cone to make up for the emotional trauma.”

“I’ll take two, please!” Ava calls from across the room, now arranging Sara’s scattered toys into neat rows.

“Nice try,” Taylor mutters, peeking out from behind the pillow before turning her attention back to me. “How was work? Or should I say, how was your peaceful, pants-on, baby-spit-free day?”

I smirk. Taylor clearly has no idea how stressful and messy my job can be, and that’s fine. I’ll let her have her mopey moment. “Oh, you know, just another day in paradise. Nothing quite as exciting as this circus you’ve been the ringleader of today.”

“I’m the wing weeder!” Sara declares, standing proudly in nothing but her shirt which is thankfully long enough to cover her. She puts her hands on her hips as if she’s about to start the circus up all over again.

“Ringleader of the Pantless Brigade, maybe,” I say, setting Ruby down in her bouncer. “But if you’re going to lead, kiddo, you need to have pants on. That’s the rule.”

---