Page 116 of Sincerely, Pack Pucked
Percy nodded. “Good! Does she need a feed?”
“She's due for one. I just put a bottle in the warmer.”
“I'm so thankful that Mable decided to pump, because if we had to wake her up when she had just fallen asleep, I would feel like the biggest asshole in the world.”
“Totally,” I said, lifting Maggie and settling her into the crook of my arm, ensuring her head was well supported.
Mable had decided that she wanted to breastfeed, so we had gotten her every pump and gadget on the market she could possibly want. That way, she could pump breast milk before she went to sleep, and if Maggie needed a feed, we could do it for her without having to wake Mable up. Shared responsibility is the best kind of responsibility.
“You know,” I said. “It's a special kind of evil that mothers need sleep to heal, but they have to wake up constantly to feed their children. What’s up with that?”
Percy nodded with a shrug. “Well, we've made sure that Mable isn't going to need a single thing. And I learned in one of my history classes that other mothers and stuff helped even centuries ago.”
‘Huh? Well, we’re her modern day backup.”
We both migrated toward the kitchen. I slowly rocked-slash-bounced Maggie in my arms as we walked, but she was happily content looking up at me with those wide, beautiful eyes.
I had grabbed the bottle and was starting to feed her when Saint walked in. He noticed the sleeping Mable pretty quickly and kept his voice down as he approached us, his eyes going all soft as he looked at Maggie.
“Just went down to the mailroom to grab a package that got delivered, and it's from one of our sponsors,” he explained, holding up the small box. “It’s mini hockey gear, and it’s the cutest thing.”
That was a tradition. If a hockey player was sponsored by a major kit company, when they had a baby, they would often give them a few gifts.
“Sweet.” I beamed. “Looks cute as a button in her little Chargers jersey, so I bet those are going to be amazing.”
“We really should talk to Mable about how much she wants Maggie to be online because I want nothing more than to share a photo of her wearing her little hockey gear.”
“Maybe wait until she's more than a few days old.” Devin laughed as he joined us. His hair was still wet from the shower. He gravitated straight to the baby, checking her over and smiling at her as she gulped down her milk. “She's a hungry girl, isn't she?”
“Takes after her daddies,” Saint said, grinning.
“Is it bad that I want so many more of these?” I said, unable to take my eyes off my daughter, and yet, still imagining more little monsters like her. I didn’t know if my heart could even hold that much love.
Percy cocked his head to the side. “No, I'll happily have as many as Mable is willing to give us.”
“If we have nothing but daughters, though, we are going to be in for a nightmare when they become teenagers,” Percy said.
“Especially if they look like their mother…” I trailed off.
Devin looked deep in thought for a moment before he nodded. “Maybe I'll talk to Spencer about hiring a few more security guards.”
“Come on, guys. That’s so old school. Maggie will be fine, and all teenagers are the worst. Think about how you were as a teen.” Saint laughed.
I bit back a laugh. We'd actually been talking about scaling back the amount of security we needed because, ever since Saint had publicly declared on social media that he was taken, the rabid fangirls had died down a bit. Then, when Maggie had been born, Mable had shared a photo of Saint sitting in the hospital room without his shirt on, having skin-to-skin contact with the baby, and tagged Saint. Naturally, the photo had gone viral, and now, instead of having rabid fangirls who wanted to be with him,everyone was cooing over how much of a fantastic family man Saint was.
A grumbling from the couch made us all turn. The open-plan kitchen and living space were huge, but clearly, we weren’t being quiet enough, because Mable's rumpled head poked out of the nest, glowering at us.
“Give me my baby,” she mumbled, holding out her hands in a little grabby motion.
“She's currently chowing down on the bottle like it's her last meal,” I said, but I didn’t want to deny her, so I started walking over.
Mable’s glower intensified. “My boobs are killing me. I’m going to burst. If she is hungry, she can take it from the source. Or someone needs to get me a breast pump.”
“One hungry baby coming right up!” I declared, gently pulling the bottle away from Maggie and cooing when she started to whimper and fuss, her face scrunching up in displeasure.
Quicky enough, Mable had her latched on, and Maggie happily munched away as her mama sighed. I could tell Mable felt much better, and I sat down next to her on the couch. She grinned up at me.
“Sorry, we woke you.” I ran my finger back and forth over Maggie’s cheek.
