Page 110 of Winning Brynn

“No.” I shake my head. “She’s not, but this is the first time you’re seeing her since her birth. It’s only been a few days, and you’re only just getting to know her, so it’s kind of like the newborn phase. The circumstances might be different, but the feelings are the same.”

“I guess.” But she grimaces like she doesn’t believe me. “I just don’t understand why this feels so impossible for me when it seems so natural to every other woman. Like, look at you. You have more maternal instincts when it comes to Salem than I do, and she’s not even your kid. You know what she wants just by the sound of her cries or, hell, even before she cries. It’s like you’re psychic or something.”

It takes everything in me to bite back a wince.

Because in some ways, she’s right.

Caring for Salem does feel natural to me, the same way it does with Ivy. They feel like they’re my own, even though they aren’t. It’s not something I can explain, because I don’t really understand it myself.

But then, I’ve had more time with Salem. I’ve been able to learn what she needs and when. I’m not psychic, and sure, maybe the maternal intuition I seem to have been born with helps me along the way, but mostly, caring for a child is an arduous game of trial and error.

Issy will get there too. She just needs more time.

“It’s just my job, Is. It’s what I’m being paid to do.” It’s the truth, but the words burn like a lie on my tongue.

Issy’s eyes find a small line of trees on the opposite side of the playground that are beginning to bud now that the days are getting longer, and she nods sadly. “Yeah.”

“Try to stop putting so much pressure on yourself, okay? These things take time.”

She smiles, though I can tell it’s forced.

In the swing, Salem releases a sharp cry to let us know she’s finished, dragging our attention back to her. I hesitate a moment to give Issy the space to get her out, but when she doesn’t, I do it myself.

I get Salem settled in the stroller then motion to Issy to push her, and we start the short walk home.

The moment is broken now, but I’m still worried about my friend. I don’t want her to feel like she’s failing or that there’s something fundamentally wrong with her because she’s struggling to connect with her daughter.

And the worst part is, I don’t know how to make it better. All I can do is step aside and let her work this out for herself.

After a long while of silence, Issy finally says, “Thank you for reassuring me.”

Her expression is softer now, her eyes a little brighter. The lines between her eyebrows are still visible, though lacking the jarring depth they had not too long ago, and her mouth is more relaxed.

“Always.”

She smiles, and I think it’s a real one this time. “You helped put things into perspective a bit. I needed that.”

I return her smile, but inside, my gut is twitching. “I’m glad.”

Once more, we fall into silence, but it’s comfortable now and lighter than it was before. That is, anyway, until she looks at me with mirth in her eyes and says, “Wanna compare notes on Leo’s dick size?”

I shove her in the arm, but we laugh the rest of the way home. But that feeling inside me remains for the rest of the day, something between anxiety and insecurity. Something, maybe, like jealousy.

And I hate myself for feeling it.

Because how selfish of a person must I be to be jealous of Issy reconnecting with her daughter? It isn’t that I feel threatened. I don’t. I trust her when she says she has no interest in Leo, but that’s not what I’m worried about. It’s never been what I’m worried about, truth be told.

It’s just that, in my bones, I know that the closer Issy and Salem grow, the less Salem will need me. When she has a real mom to care for her instead of a loose connection who was hired to be her nanny in a moment of desperation, there will be no reason for me to stay.

“I wanted Salem to have a real family,” Leo had said. And I know, in the moment, he had meant with me. But that will change, I’m sure. It has to. Issy will find her feet, she’ll fall in love with Salem just as deeply and irrevocably as I have, and Leo will realize that there isn’t anything closer to a “real” family than a child and the parents who brought them into the world.

And where will that leave me? When there’s no room for me anymore?

When two of the people I love most in the world don’t need me anymore?

What will I do then?

“Come on, baby, you can do it.” Issy kneels on Leo’s living room rug, draped in one of his white shirts, with her arms stretched out to Salem. “Just a few steps, ladybug. That’s it.”

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