Only One Kiss (Only One 1)

“That name sounds familiar,” I say, trying to think.

“Her brother is Evan Richards,” she says, panting faster. “She started doing his social media, and she has the best client list out there. She has people begging her to take them on.”

“That’s why,” I say. “Evan is one of my best friend’s brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you this,” she says, her voice going low, and I hear Ari starting to babble in her crib. Looking over at the hand monitor, I see the little red lines jumping, indicating she’s getting restless in her bed.

“Ari is waking up,” I say, knowing that I have about a minute or two before her patience runs out, and she screams bloody murder. She’s the perfect baby if she’s in your arms or she sees you, but the minute she doesn’t, well, let’s just say she can shake the house down.

“Okay, I’ll make it fast. Call in a favor if you have to and get Candace to take you on as a client. I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” she says, “but do whatever you need to do.”

“Jesus, Becca,” I say, laughing and putting down my coffee. “I’m sure she’s not the only one out there.”

“Nope,” she says, and I hear the beep of her machine. “But if you want to be the best, you need the best.” I close my eyes. “I’ll call you later with backup choices, but . . .” I know what she’s going to say.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later. The new nanny starts today,” I say, and she laughs.

“You didn’t like the last one because of her eyebrows,” she jokes, and I shake my head.

“They didn’t move,” I say. “I have to go.” After hanging up, I walk down the carpeted hallway from the kitchen to Ari’s bedroom. I can hear her get louder. The rising sun lights her room up just a touch, and when I’m finally close enough, I see her hands moving up and down the same time as her feet. My feet sink into the plush carpet as I make my way over to the crib. Everything is arranged the exact way Cassie wanted it. I look at the picture of Cassie smiling with her hand on her big stomach in the built-in armoire she had made. It was taken at her baby shower a month before she left us. The pain in my chest is just as raw now as it was five months ago.

I stare down at our baby who looks exactly like Cassie. Her big blue eyes shimmer, and when she finally sees me, she smiles so big. “Good morning, my princess.” Bending down to pick her up, I slide my hand under her back and feel that it’s wet. “Did we leak again?” I ask her as if she is going to answer me, but all she says, "Da-da-da-da.”

When I lay her down on her changing table, she fusses and squirms, letting me know she doesn’t want to do this whole changing diaper thing. I hand her one of her teething rings, and she grips it and brings it straight to her mouth while I change her diaper and put on a clean onesie. “Now don’t you feel better, princess?” I ask, and she just smiles. “Let’s go get you a bottle.” I lift her to me and toss the teething ring back on the changing table, then walk out into the huge family room. I press the button on the automatic shades, and the sun slowly fills the room. In three minutes, we are both sitting on the big couch with her in the crook of my arm as we watch SportsCenter.

Holding her bottle for her, I kiss the top of her head, then look up. The day after the funeral, I put up pictures of Cassie all around the house. I lay my head back and think back to that bleak day five months ago. How I sat in the hospital room with tears running down my face while I held our daughter in my arms. We were chest to chest, doing skin to skin, something that Cassie should have been doing. The nurses tried to sound upbeat, but they all had the same tone and look of pity on their faces. It was supposed to be the best day of my life, and it turned out to be the worst.

“Da-da-da-da.” I hear and look down to see her chewing on her bottle. Once she sees me look at her, she smiles at me. “Da-da-da-da.”

“Did you sleep okay?” I ask, and she just kicks her feet. “Did Mommy come visit you?” I ask, and her hands and feet start moving fast. I’m about to ask her another question when I hear the front door open. “Miranda is here,” I say, and she looks around when she hears Miranda’s voice.