“Could not care less.”
I lean forward and whisper, “Are you sure about that?”
“Please don’t use my kid as leverage, thank you,” Keira says from where she’s scrolling on her phone on the other side of the living room, Xavier still sleeping beside her.
That’s when it hits me. The smell. I sniff once, then again, only to spot the growing stain on Eli’s shirt.
“Oh my God,” I say.
He frowns. “What?”
“She just shat on your shirt.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Karma’s a bitch, baby.”
It seems to be at that moment he smells it, because he looks down in horror to find his shirt covered in yellowy-orange poop. I start cackling.
“Oh no,” Keira exclaims as she stands. “Oh, no, no, no.”
“Can you help?” Eli tells me.
“I can’t,” I wheeze out, laughing too hard at his horrified expression to help. “This never happened to you with Zoe?”
“A first,” he says, gagging when he looks again, only making me laugh more. Meanwhile, Billie is still sleeping soundly, her lips open like she’s catching the best rest of her short life.
“Cassie, I’m dying here.” He goes to lift her, only to show that the situation is even worse under her. “I canfeelit.”
Keira comes over with wipes, but she soon realizes the severity of the situation. “Okay, wait a minute. I need a towel.”
He lets his head rest back. “I don’t think I’ll ever get this sensation out of my head.”
I can barely breathe.
“All right, all right,” Keira says as she jogs back with a white towel.
“White? You had to pick white?” I ask.
“First one I found.” She goes to pick Billie up under her arms, then wraps her in the towel. “There you go. Not nice to poop on others, baby.” She kisses the top of her head before taking her away to change her.
Eli and I stare at the mess on his shirt. “Will you help me get this off?” he asks.
I give his shoulder two taps, then kiss his cheek. “Not a chance.”
After one long diaper and outfit change for Billie and a shower for Eli, everyone comes back to the living room, where Eli still asks to pick Billie up again, seemingly making her promise not to do this again. I then go through another half-hour of looking at the man I’ve spent more than half of my life pining over rubbing circles on her back—now clad in a dinosaur onesie—and leaning his cheek on top of her head. I love it and hate it at the same time. It’s still the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, but eventually, a heaviness settles in my stomach. By the time Keira leaves, I’m emotionally drained.
I jump in the shower while Eli finishes cleaning up the kitchen, and when I come out of the en-suite, he’s waiting for me on the bed, clad in only black boxer briefs.
“Did you have a good night?” he asks.
I nod with a smile, but he must notice something isn’t quite right, because he stands with a divot between his brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Cassie.”
“Really, I’m fine.” I smile, but when he doesn’t budge, I add, “Today was just a little harder. Watching you with Billie.” Every time I saw his hand engulfing her tiny foot, I kept thinking of how, even if I was wild enough to imagine this for us, it would never happen. What I saw tonight will never be our reality, no matter what I decide to do with my life.
