Page 25 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Because I’m still not enough.

I can’t even make my baby happy. I can’t figure out why she’s so sad. Shouldn’t there be some maternal instinct kicking in by now? Shouldn’t I know how to make her feel better?

What is wrong with me?

“Sh…,” I coo for what feels like the thousandth time while gently patting her back. My voice is raw with unshed tears, but I don’t know what else to do. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

A soft knock reverberates from my closed bedroom door.

Shifting Peanut to one side, I wipe beneath my nose with the back of my hand and open the door, an apology on the tip of my tongue. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to keep her quiet, but––”

“Has she eaten?” Milo demands. He doesn’t look pissed. Just…tense. Like a coiled spring ready to trip any second. His hair is a rumpled mess, as if he’s been tossing and turning in bed for the last hour. But his eyes are what really get me. They’re not cold or indifferent. They’re concerned.

Hesitant.

Probably because he’s terrified I’ll hit him or something.

After last night, I probably should.

Emwould. She’d slap him across the face, drag him back to his room, straddle his legs, and make him worship her the way she deserves.

But Madelyn? She’s weak. Insecure. She doesn’t know how to fight for what she wants. Not when he had no problem reminding her less than twenty-four hours ago how he’s already slipped through her fingers once.

We haven’t spoken since he brought the random woman home. There’s nothing to say. I don’t own him. And it’s crystal clear he doesn’t want me. But the worst part is,technically, he did nothing wrong except break my heart all over again. But it isn’t exactly his fault. It’s mine for getting attached in the first place.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m too drained to think about anything else right now except the crying baby in my arms, who must be as exhausted as I am.

“Has she eaten?” Milo repeats, his nostrils flaring from my silence.

I blink slowly, barely registering his words over Peanut’s screams. “Yes––”

“And you’ve changed her diaper?”

“Of course, I’ve changed her diaper, asshole,” I choke out, finally snapping back to the present while feeling more alone and embarrassed and depressed andunworthythan ever. “But thanks for pointing out all the ways I’m potentially failing as a mom.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t––”

“Look,” I huff, adjusting Peanut to my other side while bouncing on the balls of my aching feet. “I’m doing my best to keep her quiet, but nothing’s working. I’ll buy you some noise-canceling headphones or something in the morning, okay? I can’t do this right––”

He reaches for Peanut, taking her from me. And because I’m paralyzed with shock, I let him.

“What are you…?” My voice trails off as Milo presses her to his chest, rubbing his giant hand up and down her back softly.

“I’ve got her. Get some sleep.”

Get some sleep?

I shake my head and reach for her. “Milo––”

“She was up all night last night after I woke you guys up. You’ve both gotta be exhausted.”

Dropping my hands to my sides, a pathetic laugh bubbles out of me. “So? Isn’t always being tired what parenthood is all about? No sleep until they’re eighteen?” I scrub at my tired eyes, grateful to find them dry, and reach for her again. “I’ll be fine. Now, can I have her back, please?”

“Just…” He sighs and takes a step back, her cries as strong ever as she arches her back angrily. “Get some sleep.”

“What if she gets hungry?” I argue.

“You got any milk in the freezer?”

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