Page 48 of Loco

“They’re throwing up the Pedialyte,” I whispered hoarsely, pressing the phone to my ear while I stared into the machine like it held answers. “Evie, what do I do?”

She was calm, thank God, talking me through it like she was reading a script she'd rehearsed for years. “Give them small sips, like, tiny—a teaspoon at a time. Wait fifteen minutes between sips in case they throw up again. You’ve got this, Roque.”

Now, a few hours later, I was on the couch, both kids asleep on either side of me, their heads nestled into pillows resting on my lap, the tops of their heads just touching. I didn’t dare move. My body ached, my eyes burned, and I had no clue how people did this day in and day out.

Was this what parenthood actually was? A slow descent into exhaustion punctuated by bodily fluids and fear?

I was just letting my head tip back against the couch when there was a knock at the door.

I tensed, then gently shifted the kids just enough to slide out from under them. They stirred but didn’t wake, still warm, and snuggled into the pillows.

I checked my phone, smiling when I saw who it was. Then I crossed to the door and opened it quietly.

Sayla stood there, bags in hand, hair pulled back in a messy bun, and dark circles under her eyes, which said she hadn’t slept much either.

Without a word, I stepped aside to let her in, then guided her to the kitchen and closed the door behind us. The moment it clicked shut, I leaned in and kissed her, slow, exhausted, and grateful.

“Welcome to hell,” I murmured. “I either gave them food poisoning, or I’m experiencing my first daycare disease.”

She laughed softly against my chest, and it was the best sound I’d heard all morning.

“I figured something was up,” she said, setting the bags down and getting straight to work. Out came more Pedialyte, tubs ofGatorade powder, and a box of Pedialyte popsicles, which she immediately tossed into the freezer.

Then she pulled out another bag—this one carefully packed—containing a large tub of homemade chicken soup, two fresh coffees, and a wrapped breakfast sandwich that smelled like heaven.

I narrowed my eyes, already guessing. “You talked to Heidi and Evie, didn’t you?”

Sayla smirked as she pulled out a final box filled with frosted cupcakes. “Guilty. Heidi said you’d need this. And these—” she tapped the cupcake box— “are forafterthey’re better. It might be an incentive for their stomachs to settle down.”

I was about to thank her when I felt a soft tug around my shin. I looked down and saw a pale, sleepy Kaida standing beside Sayla, her little arms wrapped around her leg like I’d seen her niece, Nemi, do.

Sayla looked down in surprise, then melted instantly. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Kaida blinked up at her with glassy eyes and gave her a shy little smile. “Hi.”

My heart did something weird in my chest.

I crouched beside her. “This is Sayla,” I said gently. “She brought some stuff to help your tummy feel better.”

Sayla knelt, brushing a few damp curls away from Kaida’s forehead. “Would you like a popsicle for your tummy, honey? One that tastes like a grape?”

Kaida stared at her for a moment, then slowly lifted her arms, asking silently to be picked up.

Sayla didn’t hesitate. She scooped her up gently, holding her close like she’d done it a hundred times before. Kaida laid her head on her shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

I just watched them, throat tight. Chaos or not, hell or not—this right here felt solid: something I didn’t know how to name but didn’t want to live without.

“Let me get that popsicle,” I said, already moving toward the freezer.

And for the first time since 3 a.m., I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could do this.

Sayla

I helped Kaida hold the popsicle, carefully keeping the melting grape juice from dripping onto her pajama top. Her fingers were still a little shaky, but her color returned a bit, and she leaned into me like she was finally comfortable.

While she sucked on the popsicle, I poured a weak grape Gatorade into a sippy cup and handed it to her. She took a tentative sip, then another, before returning her full attention toShrek, which was playing softly on the TV.

Donkey was doing his thing—loud, ridiculous, and impossible not to smile at—and Kaida let out a sleepy giggle that made my heart ache in the best way.

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