Page 31 of Enemy Ex's Secret Baby

GILLIAN

“I forgot the donuts, give me one second!” I shout over my shoulder as I head back to the driveway to my car. Always a little bit scatter-brained. I’d say that’s motherhood for you, but I’ve always been a little bit like this. Before I get to my car, I see Axel’s car pulling out of their driveway. It squeals onto the pavement. Then, he floors it, burning rubber down the residential street.

I ought to call the cops on him. Who does he think he is driving around here like that? Children play on these streets. They could get hurt.

Who am I kidding, though? Axel hasn’t ever given a shit about anyone but Axel in a long time.

“Can I help?”

My gaze shoots to Harley who is standing at the gate waiting for me.

“You’re not supposed to be helping anyone. You’re supposed to rest,” I chide, reaching into my car and grabbing the plastic container of French-toast-inspired donuts.

Harley leans up against the gate and smiles. “It’s nice to get a moment away now and again.”

I sigh. “I remember that feeling.”

“Am I bugging you? I know I’ve been leaning on you a lot lately.”

My mouth falls ajar. “Are you kidding?” I go up to my younger sister and wrap my arm around her. “You’re never bugging me.”

“You didn’t use to say that,” she grins.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s before you grew up.”

“Hey!” She elbows me in the side.

I jerk away and laugh. I deserved that one.

“Why do you always have to bring baked goods? It’s already been hard enough to lose the weight.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re one month postpartum.”

“Yeah, but–”

“You’re young. It’ll come off. Promise.” We stop walking at the end of the path that leads to the backyard, allowing us to have a few more seconds of privacy. “You still have a baby to feed, Harley. And you’re recovering.”

She smiles and looks down at her shoes. “I know, it’s just…harder than I want it to be.”

Harley and I talk a lot. Like nearly on the daily. She always has questions about what’s normal and when she needs to be worried. “Her feet are purple! What’s going on?” or “I just put her down and she’s hungry again! I feel like a cow!” or “Will I ever want to have sex again?”

I remember asking all those questions. Except I had to pop them into google. Found a lot of good mom friends on forums and eventually at daycare. I’m always happy to lend an ear, even if I’m smiling to myself, just trying to convince Harley that most of the weirdness is as to be expected when it comes to being postpartum and taking care of a newborn.

“Remember, Tana’s happy when you’re happy. She can sense it. Doesn’t mean you have to keep it up all the time, but you feed each other’s energies,” I explain.

Harley groans. “It’s like I made her or something.”

I laugh. “Exactly.”

“Thank you. For making me feel normal.”

I touch my sister on the cheek. “Always.”

We both take a deep breath and round the corner to the backyard where the rest of the family is waiting: our sisters, Dad holding baby Tana, and, of course, Stella. “Okay, as promised –“

“Ooh! These look amazing, Gilly!” Dana announces, taking the case from me and setting it down on the table amongst many other delectable dishes. A platter of bacon, beautiful ripe berries, cinnamon buns. This is a food coma waiting to happen.

I see Stella already has a whole cinnamon roll in her hand. “Who told you that you could start?”

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