Nothing But This (Broken Pieces 2)

He sighed heavily and opened his eyes. He stared up at her sleepily before smiling.

“Olivia.” His voice was quieter than usual.

“You look done in,” Libby said, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him.

“She wouldn’t stop crying. I felt terrible for her. I iced a few of her favorite teething toys, and that worked for a while, but not for long. I gave her some of that teething powder as a last resort. She fell asleep at about twelve.”

“She’s only been asleep about half an hour, then,” Libby said, and he grimaced.

“I put her in the crib and thought I’d sit here for a while, just in case she needed me; next thing I know you’re waking me up.” He sighed again and sat up. “I’ll head home. Try to get some sleep. You’re going to need it. I don’t doubt she’ll be awake again soon.”

“Greyson, you don’t look fit to drive right now,” Libby said. “You’re so exhausted you’re practically cross-eyed. Go back to sleep. You can leave in the morning.”

The words were out before she could properly think them through, but when he lay back down and wearily covered his eyes with his forearm, she couldn’t regret the invitation. It would be unforgivable of her to allow him to drive in his current condition.

“Just a quick nap,” he muttered, his voice slurring. “I’ll leave soon.”

Libby watched him for a second before grabbing a tank top and shorts from her dresser. She was desperate for a shower.

She was back in the bedroom less than ten minutes later. Both Clara and Greyson were still sound asleep. And before she could overthink it, Libby climbed onto the bed beside Greyson, crawled under the covers, and switched off the bedside lamp.

It felt like she’d only been sleeping for thirty seconds when Clara’s cries awoke her. Libby sat up and was confused to find the light on.

“I’ll be right there, Cla—” The words died abruptly when she looked up and saw Greyson with Clara in his arms. He was rocking the baby, his knuckle in her mouth as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

“Sorry,” he said when he saw she was awake. “I tried to stop her crying before she woke you. I changed her nappy, but she remains inconsolable, as you can see.”

“She’s probably hungry.” Libby held out her arms, and Greyson crossed the short, cramped distance and transferred Clara to her. “Do you have any bottles prepared? I don’t think I have much milk tonight.”

“Yes, I’ll get one.” He left, and Libby shifted her tank top to give Clara access to her breast. The baby suckled greedily for a couple of minutes before spitting out the nipple and starting to cry.

“I know, it’s okay. Daddy’s getting some more for you,” Libby comforted her, trying the other breast, but that one had even less to offer.

Greyson returned just as Libby was covering herself up again and handed her the warm bottle.

“Temp’s fine,” he assured her, sitting down on the bed next to her. Clara latched on to the teat eagerly, but after only a few sips she started chewing on the rubber instead. She turned her head away to cry again.

Greyson got up without a word and left the room. He returned moments later with a cold, damp washcloth and a teething ring. Libby smiled gratefully, took the cloth from him, and wiped the baby’s wet, hot little face and neck before Greyson offered Clara the teething ring.

“I’m so fucking knackered,” Greyson groaned, curling up on his side to face them. Clara was fretfully chewing on the cold rubber ring. “I had an early-morning teleconference with Harris and a few other executives in Australia this morning.”

“Have the bad guys all been caught?” Libby asked.

“Looks that way,” Greyson said on a yawn. “Harris is just tying up some loose ends and will probably be jetting back to Cape Town shortly.”

“That’s good,” Libby said. She scooted down and lay on her side as well, Clara on her back between them, still gnawing frantically. Greyson’s eyes drifted to the baby, and he smiled sleepily.

“She’s such a little beauty,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.

“She is, isn’t she?” Libby said dreamily, lifting a finger to play with one of the baby’s silky, soft curls.

“Absolutely.”

“At least we got this one thing right.” Her words were starting to slur.

Greyson switched off the bedside lamp before draping his arm over her waist and enfolding their baby within a protective cage. He was asleep in seconds, and Clara drifted off soon after.

Libby lay there for a long time, listening to the comforting, familiar sound of him lightly snoring next to her. She had missed having him in her bed. She had missed the warmth of his body, the wonderful woodsy scent of his aftershave combined with the crisp pine of his shampoo. She had missed all of that and more. And in the forgiving dark of night, she found herself wishing she could curl up in his arms and allow him to soothe all the pain and despair and anger of the last few months away.