The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

“All right little man, it’s just you and me bringing in the new year together. What do you want to do?”

Reed kicks his feet out.

“Sorry, buddy. No partying for you, you’re too young.” Reed’s feet start kicking faster and faster. He looks like he’s becoming agitated, and then a second later he starts to cry. I pick him up and walk him over to the swing. He seemed to like it earlier. I set him in it and try to give him his pacifier, but he immediately spits it out, his cries getting louder. Well, hell. He can’t still be hungry. Maybe he needs to be changed?

Taking him out of his swing, I bring him into his room and place him on the changing table. I go about changing his diaper, and after several attempts of trying to get the tabs to stick, it works and he’s in a fresh diaper, but the crying continues.

Not wanting to bug Olivia—and if I’m honest, I want to prove I can handle being a dad on my own—I pull up a baby site the sales associate told me about and search reasons for babies to cry. Holy fuck! There’s like a hundred different reasons!

“Okay, let’s go down this list,” I say out loud to Reed, who isn’t listening. I go through each reason, one by one: Hungry, wet diaper, fever, teething, constipation…the list keeps going. I haven’t the slightest clue about half this shit. One reason for a baby to cry is being overtired. He just woke up from a nap, but then again, I have no idea how long babies stay awake for. Could he already be tired again? A mom mentions that she takes her baby for walks or for a drive when he’s tired and needs help going to sleep. Spotting the car seat in the corner, I set Reed in it and buckle him in.

About two minutes into our drive, Reed’s cries get louder, angrier. It sounds nothing like his cry of hunger. It’s painful to listen to. I glance in the review mirror into the mirror facing his seat. His face is bright red, and my heart begins to pound as I consider something might be wrong with him.

Putting my pride, as well as the need to prove I can do this by myself, aside, I grab my cell phone and call Olivia while turning the car around to head toward her place. “I think something is wrong.” I explain everything I did—from feeding him, to changing his diaper, to taking him for a drive. While we’re talking, his crying never once lets up.

“I’ll be right there.”

“I’m already on my way.”

We hang up, and roughly ten minutes later, I hand Reed over to her. She takes him out of his car seat, sits down on the couch, and starts checking him out. Then she places him on his belly across her lap and starts patting his back.

Within minutes, his crying has ceased. She glances up at me with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. And it’s then I notice her nose is red, her cheeks are blotchy, and around her eyes are puffy. She’s been crying.

“He’s gassy, but it’s trapped. When you press on his belly, it helps release the gas. You have to make sure when he eats, you stop him several times to burp him. He’s a little pig and will suck it all down too fast.”

“Fuck!” I say aloud, “I forgot to burp him.” I’m already sucking at this parenting thing.

“You’ll learn,” she says, “it just takes time.”

I sit down next to her and glance at Reed, who is still on his belly across her lap. His eyes are open, but he’s totally content. “Why didn’t you go out tonight?” I ask her. She’s sporting a pair of fleece sweatpants and a matching hoodie. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and her face is free of any makeup.

“Umm… maybe because I just had a baby a couple weeks ago.” She nudges me playfully. “I was surprised you wanted to take him on New Year’s. My dad and Corrine are at the team party.”

“Yeah, Celeste is there too. I don’t really care about that stuff.”

“That’s not what google says.” My eyes meet hers, and she immediately tries to backpedal. “I mean…”

“You googled me?” I waggle my eyebrows playfully, and her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink.

“I wanted to know about the father of my baby.”

“And what did you find out?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Reed makes a cooing sound, and she picks him up.

“Tell me why you were crying.” She averts her eyes, but I’m not having it. “Liv, talk to me.”

“He should be good now.” She ignores my question and hands him back to me. I notice she has a movie going, but it’s been paused.