Page 10 of Not the Bodyguard's Baby
The woman chose a pacifier for her own cart.
“Should I get one of those, too?” asked Adam.
“Don’t start one if you don’t need to. Getting them to quit is a pain.” The woman rolled her eyes, then moved her cart down the aisle.
Adam paused at a display of toys at the end of the section. A little pink giraffe stared up at him. He picked the animal up. The plush fur felt as soft as it looked. The tag indicated the toy was approved for children under three. He set it back down. He only needed basics.
The giraffe stared up at him again.
He added it to the cart.
* * *
No cry woke September in the middle of the night, but the absence of a cry did. September wandered out of her room to the nurses’ station. “Is there a pump I can use?”
A nurse led her into the room September had used earlier in the day. One of the other mothers sat there, along with a lactation consultant. “Pump enough to be comfortable. Chances are by the time you go home, your baby won’t need middle-of-the-night feedings, so it is fine if your body decides it doesn’t need to give them.”
September longed to trade the silicone and plastic for the warm sleepy tones of her daughter. Was Harmony awake and crying? Had Adam figured out how to feed her, or had Adam’s mother come back to town? September took a deep breath. Adam was the best choice, he would figure it out. A bottle had to be easier than nursing. She repeated the thought over and over, not wanting to panic in front of the others.
She turned off the pump, and the consultant helped her label the milk for storage to go home with Harmony after the next visit. September found her way back to her room under the watchful eye of the nurse at the station.
As she fell back asleep, she reassured herself,Adam is the best choice. He will figure it out.
6
The formula scoopbounced on the tile floor, white powder spilling everywhere as Harmony’s cries amplified. Adam balanced her on his shoulder as he reached for the scoop, which he kicked rather than picked up. The sound of footsteps in the hallway caused him to turn. “Sorry, Da—”
His father put his finger to his lips, walked to the sink, turned on the over-sink light, then turned off the main kitchen light. Without saying a word, he took Harmony from Adam and hummed to her as he paced the floor, quieting her.
Adam washed and dried the scoop before measuring out the formula and making a fresh bottle. Jethro took the bottle from Adam and tested it by squirting some milk on the back of his hand. He mouthed the word “sweep” before going into the living room. Adam stared at the empty doorway for several seconds before retrieving the broom from the pantry. The powder didn’t sweep up well, and he tried a wet paper towel before thinking it through. The wet powder dissolved, creating an even bigger mess in the dim light. Not knowing where his father had gone, he didn’t dare turn on the light to find the mop and ended up scrubbing on his hands and knees. When he finished, he went in search of his father and Harmony.
When he found them, he wished he had his phone so he could take a photo. Harmony’s head was tucked into his father’s neck. His dad’s mouth hung open, snoring filling the room. On the table next to his father’s chair sat the empty bottle. Worried his father might startle and drop the baby, Adam extracted Harmony from Jethro’s arms and took her up to her crib. When he came back down, his father was at the sink, rinsing out the bottle.
“Where did you learn to do that, Dad?”
“Five children. You don’t think I let your mom have all the fun, did you? Wrangling Abbie and Alex required more than two hands. Especially with you and Alan running around like Wile E. and the Road Runner.” He put the bottle on the drying rack. “Next time, don’t turn on every light in the house. They tend to agitate a little one, and it is harder to feed a crying baby than a calm one.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Night, son.”
Adam checked on Harmony. The little giraffe sat on the dresser near the crib. Abbie had been a wealth of information about everything from the baby sleeping on her back to not putting a blanket in the crib. She’d even left an already worn copy of a baby-care book for him to reference. By the time her children came, Adam assumed she would have read the entire parenting section of the bookstore.
He looked at his clock as he climbed back into bed: 3:24. Poor September. Had she done this all alone every night? He pulled out his phone and read the report his brother had sent.
No evidence of bodyguards in California for past seven months. Consistent with Shyla’s story of rehab.
Rumor in area of her hiring private security. Dermot says not their job. But lost their only female guard to someone about six months ago.
A house purchased in September’s mother’s maiden name; trust in Chicago-suburb gated community. Assuming it is hers.
Each piece of the puzzle made the bigger picture. If only he had known.
It all came back to the kiss. What if he had tried to work it out? The ten-year gap in their ages had shrunk as she’d grown older. Twenty to thirty had been a world apart, but twenty-six to thirty-six seemed more manageable. The existence of Harmony shrunk the perceived age difference even more. If only he’d seen things this way a year ago when he’d kissed her and unleashed all the feelings he had bottled up for so long. He’d tried to apologize the next morning, but the words had come out all wrong. Then she said things she probably didn’t mean, and he’d quit. If he could erase just ten minutes of his life, it wouldn’t be the truth in the kiss. It would be the lies afterward.
He pulled up the blanket, rolled over on his side, and closed his eyes—just seconds before a cry came from the room down the hall.
* * *
