Craving Cecilia (The Aces' Sons 6)

“I can pretty much sleep anywhere,” I lied. The truth was that I had a hard time sleeping anywhere, but I figured the point was the same—it didn’t matter how comfortable the mattress was or wasn’t—I’d get the same amount of sleep either way.

“Everyone’s gonna be here for a while,” he said as he put the sheets on the bed, tucking them neatly at the corners. “So, if you wanna get settled and then come out, feel free.”

“Okay,” I replied, standing there like a lazy ass while he made my bed. I knew I should offer to help, but Jesus, I was tired. My arms ached from holding the baby all night, the lower half of my body was still stiff and sore from sitting on the floor of that closet for so long, and I was trying to ignore the incessant throbbing of my downstairs. I felt about a million years old.

“Or,” he said as he threw a quilt over the sheets, “you can stay in here and get some rest and get her settled. Up to you.”

“Yeah, she probably needs her diaper changed,” I said to his back. “I don’t know about her, but I was definitely shitting my pants back there.”

I have no idea what possessed me to make the joke. None of it was funny. Not one bit. It was absolutely terrifying, and claw at my chest, scream until my voice was raw, devastating. But I’d never said the right thing, and that moment wasn’t any different.

“Right,” he said before turning to face me. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Mark—”

“You know, Cecilia, tonight wasn’t a fuckin’ lark for me,” he said, pausing in the doorway to look back at me. He paused and thumped the side of his fist against the doorframe. “So keep your bullshit comments to yourself, alright? I don’t want to fuckin’ hear ’em.”

I stood dumbly, staring at the door long after he’d left. Once upon a time, he’d been the only person who hadn’t gotten offended by the shit that spilled out of my mouth. When we were together, I hadn’t had to censor myself at all. I sighed. Or maybe he’d just pretended he didn’t care what I said because he’d been nineteen and getting regular blowjobs. Whatever. I’d be gone tomorrow and he could think whatever he wanted about me. What did it matter, really?

“Let’s get you changed, huh?” I finally said to baby girl as she began to squirm in earnest. After laying her on the bed, I grabbed our bag off the floor and started pulling everything out of it. Four diapers, a half empty package of wipes, two little shirts that snapped at the crotch, another baby gown, a pair of footie pajamas, a blue and pink hat from the hospital, my toiletry bag, a set of dirty clothes I’d rolled up into a ball, my hairbrush, a sample size bottle of baby soap, two pacifiers, two nipple shields that I hadn’t had to use after the first day, and a plastic bag with two pads left.

“Damn, girl,” I cooed even though my stomach churned. “We don’t have much.”

I upended my purse next. Two more pads, a couple of very old tampons, keys, wallet, two medical bracelets, a pair of fuzzy socks with grippers on the bottom, a tube of lanolin, my .38, an envelope of paperwork, two pens, my phone, a phone charger, and a tube of lipstick.

There was no getting around it—we needed supplies. I had a single blanket to wrap her in and I cursed as I realized I’d left her car seat in the back of Cane’s car. It had felt weird as hell, unnatural, holding her as we’d driven to Mark’s house, but I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’d left the expensive ass car seat Liv had picked out behind.

Taking a deep breath, I shook out my hands. There was nothing I could do about it now. What was done, was done. When my parents got there tomorrow, we could figure out logistics. Get her a new car seat and other shit she’d need. There was no reason to panic, not about this. It was only one night and then we could go back to my place, pack up, and hit the road.

I’d feel stronger then. I’d be ready to get things done and make things happen. I just needed one night.

“Okay, sweetheart,” I said as I leaned over her. “Diaper time.”

As I changed her, I kept up a stream of conversation that she probably couldn’t understand, but it made me feel better.

“My dad is cool. You’ll like him. I’m not sure what he looks like right now. Last time I saw him, he had a beard and his hair was getting pretty long, but he likes to change it up. My mom says it keeps things spicy when she never knows who she’s coming home to, but we just ignore her when she says things like that because it’s gross. So, just pretend you don’t hear her, that’s what I do.”