I take the paper from her. “I’ll text you once I get him settled in the car.”
“Thank you.”
The car ride back to my condo is uneventful, and after pulling up to the valet, the attendant informs me I can keep Reed in the car seat to bring him up. I give him a large tip in appreciation, and he laughs, telling me he has four kids and if I need any help, to ask.
When I get inside, I see Celeste is dressed in a floor-length silver gown. Her hair and makeup are done, and she looks beautiful as always. I set the car seat down on the coffee table, and she comes over to check him out.
“He looks just like you, Nick.” She smiles, but it’s sad.
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” I grin. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. I spoke with Mercedes, and she referred me to Quality Nanny. I wasn’t sure with it being New Year’s Eve, but they were able to find a nanny who’s available.” Mercedes is a model Celeste is friends with, who recently had a baby. She’s also the wife to Brandon Evers, one of the linebackers on our team.
Carefully taking Reed out of his car seat, I place him into the swing and click it on just as the YouTube video I watched showed me how to do. “I told you I’m not going out. Olivia let me take him for the night. I’m not leaving him with a nanny.”
“You act like nobody leaves their children with a nanny. You loved yours growing up,” she insists, and she’s right, I did love Ms. Kelley. She was beyond sweet and maternal in a way my mother had no desire to be. When Celeste would come over after school, Ms. Kelley would make us snacks and take us to the park and on picnics.
“I know they do, and you’re right, I did love Ms. Kelley. But I saw more of her than my own parents. It’s not happening. I can’t let it happen. You want to go out, go.”
“We were supposed to go together. As a couple. It’s your team party. I can’t believe you’re really going to make me go alone.” She snatches her handbag off the table, and with a huff, swings the door open and slams it shut behind her.
The loud sound reverberates through the walls and Reed starts to cry. “Hey there, little guy.” I stop the swing and pluck him out, giving him his pacifier since it’s not quite time for him to eat yet. Sitting down on the couch with Reed, I set him between my legs and create a vibrating motion with my thighs by shaking my feet back and forth. I read that a lot of parents do this to help calm their babies down. Within minutes, his cries cease and soon after he’s asleep. Afraid that if I move in any way he’ll wake up, I carefully reach for the remote control and turn the television on and then switch the channel to ESPN.
I’m not sure how long I watch the highlights of today’s game for, but when Reed starts to stretch his tiny little body, I glance outside and see it’s already dark out. His pacifier drops out of his mouth as he starts to cry. Taking him with me, I grab a bottle from the diaper bag to feed him, but it’s empty. Then I remember Olivia had to put stuff in it. With one hand holding him, I use my other hand to sift through the bag. I find a can of formula and pop the lid open. It’s powder and smells like shit. Do I add water or milk?
Reed’s cries get louder as he grows more frustrated by the second. “Hold on, little guy.” He was asleep for a while, so I imagine he must be starving. I read the back of the can and it says to mix with water, but it doesn’t state how much he should take.
Remembering I have Olivia’s number, I dial her. It barely rings once before she answers. “Everything okay?” She sounds distraught.
“Yeah,” I answer her over Reed’s crying. His face is now red, and hot tears are pouring down his face.
“Nick, why is he crying?”
“He’s hungry, but I don’t know how much he takes.”
She’s quiet for a second, and I think I hear her sniffle. Then she says, “I included it all on the paper I gave you.” The paper! I should’ve read the paper. I only glanced at it long enough to get her number from it.
“Okay, thanks! I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“You’re not a bother. You have our son. Please call me if you need anything.”
We hang up, and after reading the directions on the paper she gave me, I make Reed a bottle and feed it to him. His cries stop immediately, and a few minutes later, his entire bottle is gone and he’s content once again. Laying him down on the ottoman in front of me, I snap a few pictures of him and send them to Olivia, figuring she might enjoy seeing them. She texts back a thank you.