More so, what kind of person was I that I would just thrust my baby at a man who clearly had no parenting experience and expect him to take care of my kid?
But the relief of having someone help? It was overwhelmingly extravagant.
I wanted to roll around in the feeling and bask in its greatness.
“Are you getting out or what?”
I got out at Copper’s annoyed tone, hurrying to walk with him as he marched into the building like he owned the place—which, technically, he did.
The place was enormous, and downright beautiful, but in an overly pretentious way.
It looked stuffy, and not nearly anything like I expected it to look like.
I was thinking cozy and welcoming while also seeming professional, but this place looked like a normal person couldn’t walk through the lobby without checking to make sure they didn’t have dirt on their shoes.
Although Copper fit the part with his suit and shiny shoes, I certainly didn’t.
He walked through a back door that he had to use a keycard to get into, then stopped at a security desk to scan his ID.
He spoke briefly with the security guard, explaining who I was, and that I could come and go at will, and then jerked his head toward the rest of the lobby.
“Daycare is on the second floor. When Keely’s husband, Dima, pointed out all the safety concerns, we moved the vulnerable to the second floor to make sure that no one could access the floor that wasn’t supposed to be there. Now, only parents, security personnel, and a few other key people have access to it,” he explained.
I should probably be happy about those safety measures…
I shut the thought off before it could take root.
Questioning myself and my lack of mothering instinct wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I was on day two of my depression medication, and I had yet to feel a difference.
Though, the doctor did say that it would take a while for me to start really noticing the effects of the medication.
Which sucked.
I wouldn’t have minded an instant fix to my less-than-stellar enthusiasm when it came to my son.
He didn’t deserve my issues.
He didn’t deserve a mother like…
“Stay with me,” Copper snapped in my face.
I swallowed hard and stayed with him all the way to the second floor where we dropped Holt off with a bunch of other kids.
There were four teachers in the room, and all of them came up to Copper where he was holding Holt and cooed over him.
“Oh, isn’t he just the sweetest,” the oldest lady of the bunch said as she dropped to her haunches near where Copper set Holt’s car seat down.
“He so is,” a fake female voice, the one with the biggest tits of the group, said. “Mr. Clayborne, you have a beautiful son.”
Copper didn’t correct them, and instead said, “Here’s his eating schedule. He’s breast fed and bottle fed exclusively breast milk. If he runs out, let us know, and we’ll get you more. The numbers for both Baker,”—he gestured to me—“and myself are on this. Don’t call her first, though. Call me.”
Instant relief hit me.
“If you have any questions, you can text me, too,” Copper urged.
I felt my face flame. “You can text me.”
