“Russet, give me the baby.”
Sailor’s sucking in gasps of air, her face swollen and eyes bloodshot. I take my daughter, delicately holding her in the crook of one arm, and brush the hair off Russet’s face with the other.
“Where is Jane?” I ask.
“She had a doctor’s appointment.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Russet won’t meet my eye. “I can do it myself.”
“Do what?”
“Take care of our daughter,” she grumbles.
Russet asked if I thought we should get a divorce. I said no and told Ren to get the fuck away from us. Then she told me about Daisy’s last wish—to care for Sailor.
I’d already known what would happen. Sailor was ours from the moment we first visited her in the hospital. Nothing would ever change that, but Ren and her little lawyer friend presented us with the legal means.
Sailor’s been home with us for a month now.
“When’s the last time you slept, sweetheart?” I ask her.
She shakes her head.
“You need to sleep.”
“She won’t stop.” Tears gather in her eyes.
“It’s okay.” I lead her to the couch, trying not to trip on any baby toys.
She keeps shaking her head, her eyes squeezing shut as she fights back tears.
“Come on.” I force her to sit. She crumbles, unable to put up a fight. She mutters little words, but the moment she sinks into the couch, her muscles relax. I pull a blanket over her and kiss her forehead.
Then I kiss her lips. Her brow wrinkles when I bite her lower lip. She never opens her eyes, though, and I know she needs deep sleep more than anything.
“All right, you.” I stare down at Sailor. Her face remains scrunched, and her shrieks high. “Yeah, okay.”
There’s an empty bottle on the coffee table and Russet’s smart enough to know how to get a baby to burp. She’s simply unhappy about something and can’t communicate it.
Russet’s down for the count so with the baby in my arms we walk around.
The place is a mess. There’s a mountain of laundry by the washer. Bottles by the sink. For some reason, the comforter is ripped off our bed.
“No wonder you’re upset,” I tell Sailor. Her brow is still wrinkled, but she stares up at me trying to decide how she wants to act.
She scrunches her face, making noises that are almost a huff. I ignore her, walking in circles. She fusses and I walk some more.
Eventually, her eyes droop and she falls asleep.
I settle onto the floor, my back against the couch Russet sleeps on. Hair covers her face, her fists balling into the blanket.
The shadows in the room move as the sun changes position.
Russet stirs, her hand touching my shoulder. Despite wearing a shirt, my skin warms.
I feel, rather than see, her surprise when she fully wakes up.
