Page 33 of Knot Just Their Nanny
She gulps and then lets out a wail to end all wails. I swear they can hear her in Outer Mongolia.
“Okay, baby,” I coo, trying to soothe her as I pat her back gently. “Just let that medicine work, you’ll feel better soon.” She’s crying in that way that makes every omega instinct in me go haywire—the need to protect and comfort.
With Mia still in my arms, I fetch a cool cloth from the bathroom to dab her forehead and cheeks, murmuring reassurances all the while. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself as much as I’m telling her.
I do the quick check. No rash. No vomiting. No trouble breathing that I can see. No outward signs of illness. Possibly teething. It’s been known to give babies fevers. Ben and I are fine, so probably not flu but possibly a cold that her little system hasn’t come into contact with yet.
Ring Ben.
No, don’t ring Ben. Not yet.
As I second guess myself, I check the time. I need to give the medicine twenty minutes and then check her temperature again to see if it’s coming down. After that, I’ll ring Ben if it’s not lowering.
I walk with her, trying not to jiggle her too much. Her cries die down, and she falls asleep again, limp and hot but breathing steadily. Placing her back in her cot, I check the time again and pace some more.
At ten minutes, I feel her forehead and grab my phone. Dialling Ben’s number, I steady my breathing. If I panic, he will flap so hard he will take off.
“What is it?” he asks after the first ring.
“Just to keep you in the loop, and don’t worry, but Mia has a temperature. It’s 39 degrees. I’ve given her 2.5 mils of Calpol. No rash, no vomiting, she’s breathing fine. She’s asleep. I’m just waiting twenty minutes to see if it goes down. If not, we may have to consider taking her to Urgent Care.”
Silence.
Then. “I’m coming home.”
“No, not yet. Give the medicine time to work. It’s possibly teething, and the Calpol will work. I will ring you back.”
“Zara—”
“Ben, it’s fine, this was a courtesy call to keep you in the loop and to let you know I’ve given your daughter medicine, okay? Babies get fevers. It happens.”
“Ring me the second you take her temperature again,” he says stiffly.
“I will.”
He hangs up, and I check the time again.
At eighteen minutes, I’m armed and ready with the thermometer, forcing myself to wait and not check her again already. By the time twenty minutes hit, I’m checking, and whenit flashes red again and is 40C, I breathe in and grab my phone, dialling Ben.
The front door bangs open, and footsteps thud up the stairs, followed by his phone ringing, Ben blazes into the nursery, panicked and frantic.
Chapter 20
Zara
Ihang up the phone and shove it in my pocket. “We need to take her to Urgent Care. Go and get the car seat.”
“What’s wrong with her?” he asks desperately. “Is she going to be okay? Fuck! Fuck! I knew I shouldn’t have left her. I had this feeling this morning, but she felt fine and took her bottle?—”
“Ben. Go and get the car seat,” I say calmly as he runs his hand through his hair but doesn’t make a move. “Go, now, please.”
“Yes, yes.” He shoots off downstairs, and I hear the clatter of the door opening again. Meanwhile, I do up the poppers on Mia’s onesie and wrap her in a light blanket, not too thick, just enough to keep her safe from the chill outside. Every omega bone in my body is vibrating with the need to protect this little one.
Mia is fussing again, a low whine that tells me she’s uncomfortable but not in immediate danger. I pick her up, trying not to jar her little body too much. “Shush now, darling,” I whisper. “We’re going to see a doctor, and they’ll make you feel better.”
Ben’s back in what feels like seconds, car seat in tow. He’s pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves like he’s about to do battle. His alpha instincts are probably through the roof right now.
“Is she okay? Is she worse?” he asks, his voice cracking with the fear every parent knows when their little one is sick.
