Under the Stars

She immediately fusses, but I hand her to her daddy. Her head is so small cradled in the crook of his arm. I help him move her higher, then we position the bottle in her mouth again. She eagerly takes it, and her big blue eyes move around his face as she eats.

“She’s so beautiful,” he says, and the love expanding in my chest is so strong. It’s bigger than all my fears.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I touch her little arm. “She looks like you.”

“I think she looks like you.” He turns his smiling face and captures my lips again.

Just like that.

It’s so casual, so proprietary.

I love it.

“I love you,” I say softly, and he does it again.

“I love you.”

We’re quiet as our baby finishes her bottle. Once she’s done, I show him how to place her on his shoulder and burp her.

“Roland always says I do it wrong. I say I warm her up, and he just finishes her off.”

“I have no idea—”

He’s interrupted by a loud, sailor-burp out of our dainty little girl, and we both burst into laughter.

“I think you’re the king. She’s never burped that fast!”

He shrugs. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Come on.” I unfold my legs and stand. “You can help me bathe her.” His eyes are worried when they meet mine, but I smile. “It’s not hard. Come on.”

Roland and I have always bathed her in the kitchen sink. It’s fun and old school, and she can’t slip away so easily. I put a towel on the bottom and run a mini bath of warm water. Jilly is braced over my forearm, and she bends her knees quickly, bouncing up and down and splashing water all over both of us.

“I think she likes this,” he says, holding up a hand and laughing.

“She always makes the biggest mess.”

She laughs and coos, and I grip her slippery little body as I direct her daddy.

“She doesn’t get very dirty. Just try to clean all her crevices.”

“I feel like I’m invading her privacy.”

“She’s a baby, Mark.”

“Still.” He dabs the washcloth at her little butt barely making contact.

“Nevermind, she’ll be okay for tonight. Grab that towel.”

Jilly squeals and slaps the water. I lift her out and place her in the fluffy white towel her dad wraps around her little body. We carry her to our bedroom and dry her, put on her diaper. I smooth lavender lotion on her shoulders and legs then I zip her up in a long-sleeved onesie. Her legs kick and she waves her fists watching us.

“Ready to sleep little girl?” I say, picking her up and situating her on my shoulder.

We walk into the living room, and Mark sits on the couch. “Want to sit?”

“She goes to sleep quicker this way.” I hold her in my arms, swaying side to side.

He watches us smiling. “You should sing to her.”