Page 69 of The Homecoming

He turned to Rebecca. “Can I walk you out?”

She shook her head but didn’t look up from Danny. “I’m gonna stay a little while longer, but thanks.”

Autumn waited a minute after Weasel left before broaching the topic. “So… what’s going on with you two?”

Rebecca rocked the baby back and forth, eyes closed. “Who?”

Autumn sighed. “Between you and the man you just defeated for an Olympic medal in ignoring.”

She didn’t respond.

“Oh, come on.” Autumn picked up Rebecca’s phone that was still in her lap and scrolled to the photo of Rebecca and Weasel the night before, holding it up. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”

Rebecca shrugged. “We’re only friends. You know how weddings are. I’m newly single in a bridesmaid dress and surrounded by love, all this romance and alcohol is flowing... I just got carried away, that’s all.”

Autumn’s eyes shot from the phone to Rebecca. “Did you sleep with him?”

“God, no,” she replied.

He’d blamed kissing her on booze and dancing. Now she blamed last night on a romantic setting and alcohol, but Rebecca had showed up at eight in the morning without any sign of a hangover. Autumn studied her for a minute, guessing after such a forceful response that Rebecca had slept with him. But no, she hadn’t. “You’ve definitely thought about it.”

“No,” she said before sighing. “Look, he kissed me on New Year’s Eve, and that’s as far as it went. I told him we were friends, and that’s it.” Her pink cheeks gave her away; so shehadthought about having sex with him.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened last night?”

“Nothing,” she insisted. “We hung out at the reception, danced, and had some drinks.”

“Did he kiss you again?”

She shook her head. “We’re just friends, and that’s as far as it can go with Weasel.”

“Does he know that? Because he just sent you a text that says, talk to me dammit.”

Rebecca looked horrified that Autumn still held her phone, but she calmly crossed the room and traded the bundled baby for her cell phone before closing the text and pocketing the device.

“You’re going to ignore him.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over well,” Autumn said. “You’ve met him, right?”

Summer

36.

The first four weeks at home with Danny went by in a blur of nonexistent sleep, sore nipples, and tears. The child who did not cry in the hospital at all, now cried constantly. Nothing consoled him, not a pacifier, not swaddling, not rocking, nothing. He hated everything. He wanted to stick to her boob all the time, but that made him angry too. Autumn became convinced that she’d never figure this mom thing out.

Ten weeks after Danny’s birth, Autumn’s doctor had said she could return to work, but the boy had still had not cooperated in sleeping all night, and she now cried as much as he did. So, she didn’t return to work, despite desperately wanting to get back to the office. Wedding season was in full swing, and they had one or two weddings booked each weekend in June and July. She’d missed all of June. The guys were slammed, and she itched to get back to some kind of normal.

Finally, the pediatrician said that Danny hadn’t gained enough weight; he needed to have formula supplementation.

Autumn sobbed while Hannah washed the bottles and Rebecca cuddled Danny. They consoled her, trying to convince her she hadn’t failed as a mom. They stressed Autumn had been through enough trauma with his birth and this wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t believe them. She’d failed at the most basic thing—producing enough milk to feed her son.

But it was kind of them to try.

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