The Baby Clause 2.0 (The Contract 1.75)

Holy fuck. For something so cute, she could still make me gag on occasion. This was one of them.

The stench was horrendous.

I stood, holding my breath. “You’re right. I need to sleep.” I dropped a fast kiss to Gracie’s cheek and handed her off to Katy. “All yours.”

I hurried away, my eyes smarting from not breathing. But I could still smell it.

Katy laughed behind me. “Daddy’s still an ass,” she crooned to Gracie.

“I know,” I called. I was okay with that. At least I could breathe.Katy

I woke up, hearing soft whispers. I rolled over, guessing correctly that Richard had once again gotten out of bed and was in the nursery. His side of the bed was vacant, and the monitor lit up as he spoke to our daughter while feeding her. I loved hearing him chat to her. Richard never minced words—not even with me. He was a straight shooter and spoke his mind. He showed me a gentler side when we fell in love, but his personality never changed much. He was still demanding and blunt. He had learned, however, to rein in the harsher side of his character, and knew how to deal with people now. At least most of the time.

But with Gracie he was different.

With her, he was soft. That was the only way to describe it. He changed completely with her. She brought forth the tender, loving man in him. He hurried home at night, anxious to be with us. He reached for her as soon as he came in the door, ready to forget businessman Richard, and assume the role of Daddy. He laughed and made funny faces, he read her books, and did voices to make her gurgle and smile. He told her amusing stories of his clients, using a singsong voice, even when he cursed. I had admonished him over it, but he simply looked at me, flummoxed.

“The book, Katy,” he insisted. “The book said at this early stage she doesn’t understand the words, it’s the tone. Fuck is just like blanket to her. All of it is gibberish. I keep my tone light, and it makes her happy.”

“If her first word is a curse, you’re explaining that to Graham.”

“Pretty sure Graham won’t be shocked.”

“Laura might box your ears.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

“Richard—”

“I’ll tone it down.” He turned his head, cooing at Gracie who stared up at him from his broad shoulder, her blue eyes fixed on his face. “Mommy is such a worrywart.”

She flapped her little gums, and I held back my grin, knowing what would happen next. She opened her mouth and spewed on him, the splatter dripping down his expensive dress shirt. Once again he had neglected to use a towel.

I had to walk away I was laughing so hard. He never learned.

But right now, there were no curse words. There was Richard, murmuring low to Gracie. I had given up fighting him about nights. In the weeks since he’d returned to work, I realized this was their time. He’d talk and croon to her. I swore I heard him giggle. And he’d sing.

He had the worst singing voice I had ever heard. It was off key and sounded like someone dying in the bathtub. He only ever sang when they were alone. I made the mistake of giggling once when he tried to warble the song from Frozen, thinking she’d like it. I gaped for a minute at the odd noise coming from his throat. I was so used to him being good at everything, that finding something he wasn’t perfect at caught me off guard. He glared, huffed, and strode out of the room with her, leaving me snorting on the sofa. After that, he refused to sing in front of me.

I loved to hear him anyway, and so did Gracie. There was no doubt she was Daddy’s girl, and he soothed her better than anyone—including me.

She was fussier than normal tonight. And I was restless. I sat up, pushing my hair back from my head, listening to them.

“Hey, baby girl, what’s going on?” he murmured. “You need something? Tell Daddy and he’ll do it.”

Gracie gurgled and kept fussing. There was some movement, and then the soft strains of music. Richard began to hum, the sound low, and nowhere near as bad as his singing. Gracie snuffled loudly and began to quiet down. I slipped out of bed and padded across the hall, stopping in the doorway. My chest tightened at the sight before me.

Richard, tall, broad, and bare chested, cradling his daughter close, and dancing with her. She was tucked high on his chest, with his cheek resting on her head. Her tiny hand was encased inside his, and he held her protectively. No doubt his humming was soothing to her, rumbling through his chest and lulling her into peace.