“He’s…he’ beautiful,” she murmured, voice barely audible under the baby’s cries.
Then he let out a particularly high-pitched shriek, and she jolted like someone had fired a starter pistol at her feet. Dane swung the door to his apartment back open, ushering her inside. She marched in, turning around, seemingly looking for a bunch of baby supplies that he decidedly didn’t have.
“Okay, okay, he’s being loud. What does he want? What do babieswant?”
Dane scrubbed the back of his neck. “Food?”
“He’s a newborn! What do they eveneatat this stage?”
“Formula, I think?”
“You think?! You’re the one who…whomade him!”
“Well, I didn’t get a manual either, Devereaux!”
They both talked over the screaming baby, voices rising to combat the din.
“Right,” Lola finally snapped, her cheeks flushed, “you need to go get supplies. Now.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
She gave him a wild-eyed look, “Then you’d better be ready for a full psychological breakdown, because I haveno idea what I’m doing!I don’t have a maternal bone in my body, I don’t even know how to make toast properly in someone else’s kitchen!”
Dane blinked.
Then laughed. He couldn’t help it.
Lola scowled, “This isn’tfunny!”
“No, I know, I know…sorry. I know. But this is…this is justfucked.”
“Language!”
“He’s a baby!”
“Still,” Lola sniffed, “good to not get into bad habits.” She looked down at the baby again, who’d quieted slightly, one tiny fist now gripping her cardigan. His round, blotchy face burrowed into her shoulder, and her breath hitched.
Dane ventured, “Do you want me to take him back?”
Lola shook her head quickly. “No. I mean… he’s warm. I think he…likes the sound of my voice? Poor judgment, obviously, but I’ll take it.”
She awkwardly patted the baby’s back like she was burping a landmine. Dane could see her knees locked together like she wasn’t entirely sure if sitting would make everything better or worse.
“Okay,” she said after a breath, “You need diapers. Formula. Bottles. Wipes. Blankets. Something to put him in.Probably some kind of lotion? Baby shampoo? And maybe…I don’t know, a parenting book for complete idiots?”
Dane huffed an incredulous laugh, “I think I just need a name first.”
Lola turned toward him, eyes wide. “He doesn’t have one?”
Dane shook his head. “The mother, Sasha…she said he was born two days ago. She didn’t name him. Just dumped him and left.”
Lola’s eyes widened, then dropped to the baby’s face again.
“That’s awful,” she whispered. Her voice cracked just slightly. “He deserves a name.”
The baby whimpered, quiet and pitiful, like a tiny creature that hadn’t asked for any of this.
Neither had Dane.