Page 12 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

Not wanting to put him back in the car seat or onto the couch where he could roll off, I bring him with me into the kitchen.

Walking around the corner, I enter the smallarea that only has one entrance into my galley-style kitchen. Opening the bags, I remove everything and then toss the plastic sacks into the trash. Then I stare at all the stuff, wondering what to do next.

What do I remember from when Carly was a baby?

She’s my youngest niece and the one I’m closest to. The other two, Carrie and Caleb, who are fifteen and sixteen, were born when I was still a kid myself. I was thirteen when Carrie arrived, and although excited as I was to become an aunt, paying attention to baby duty wasn’t on my agenda back then.

Am I supposed to boil the bottle in water?

For some reason, I remember Alana doing that. I think.

I’m a lot more clueless than I originally thought.

Guess I could Google it.

I pull my purse to the edge of the counter then dig through it untilI locate my cell phone. I retrieve it, and after using my thumb to unlock the screen, I open the correct app. But before typing, I set the phone down and switch Gabriel to my other side.

“Shh, little man. I’ll get you fed just as soon as I figure out what I’m doing, I promise.” I hope.

I type out, “Do baby bottles need to be sterilized,” then hit the search button.

After scrolling and reading for a few minutes, I’m still unsure what the right method is. The first thing that popped up said, no. Other pages told me you have to sterilize the first time for all new bottles but not after that, and other pages agreed with the first that there was no need to sterilize bottles at all.

“Humph.”

Well, a lot of good that did me.

I toss my phone on the counter, not caring where it lands. I’m not worried about damaging it. I have it thoroughly protected in a case.

“I say better to be safe than sorry, little one. Guess it’s gonna be a bit longer on that bottle.”

I reach over to the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet to hot, then bending, I open the cabinet door and pull out a large pot. Once the water is as hot as the sink faucet will get it, I fill the pot halfway, then move it to the stove and turn the eye on high.

I see no need to start with cold water and have to wait longer.

While I wait, I wash the one bottle I bought. The chief better reimburse me for the money I spent, too. Even though I bought the cheap stuff, it was still pretty damn expensive.

Makes me wonder how some people afford kids unless they’re rich. Anyone on my salary, there is just no way. And I don’t have rent or a mortgage to pay for.

Once washed, I set the bottle, nipple, andlidon the edge of the sink that connects to the counter.

I hear the water begin to rumble as the boiling starts, but I don’t want to walk over with Gabriel. I guess I have no choice but to place him back in his seat for a bit.

“Sorry, little man,” I say as I head out of the kitchen.

Grabbing the car seat by the handle, I pivot, then walk the few steps back toward the kitchen. I have a small eating section with a small, round table in the corner off to the side of the kitchen. That’s where I decide to place the seat on the carpeted floor.

This section of my condo, as does the hallway and the two bedrooms, all have carpet. The living room and kitchen both have hardwood.

When I ease the baby back down, he starts to squirm, then his face turns red. I know cries are going to follow.

“Honey, I’m sorry. It’s just for a few minutes.”

I jump up, turn, and get back in the kitchen, where I quickly toss the plastic bottle and attachments in the water, nearly missing the hot splash.

As I wait, I let out a tired breath of air and then look over toward Gabriel.

His cries cause me to rub the center of my chest with my palm.

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