He’ll do this, I have no doubt. Our baby has touched him already. In the deepest part of Theo, our growing baby’s hand is resting next to mine on its daddy’s soul.Epilogue
Theo
I’m a smart man. I’m knowledgeable, and I like to think that I can turn my hand to most things. Not much in life has me scratching my head and considering seeking advice, but this thing right here has me stumped. I pull at the various straps, my mind aching. The instructions make no sense. The pads and clips are all over the fucking place.
‘This is going to keep my baby safe?’ I ask myself, tossing the contraption aside and collapsing back in the chair in complete exasperation. My ears prick up when I hear a muffled noise emanate from the baby monitor, and I look across to the table where it sits, seeing a few lights flash at me.
I don’t hang around to wait for a follow-up sign that my girl is awake. I’m up from the chair like lightning and rushing to the nursery. The sound of her gurgling brings an instant smile to my face. As I pace over to the crib, my grin stretches wider, my eyes catching a glimpse of her blankets rising and falling where she’s wriggling around. And the moment her face is in my vision, sparks of happiness overwhelm me. Her stunning green eyes find me in a heartbeat, and she stills for a second, taking me in. Then she smiles, a gummy, adorable smile, her little limbs starting to thrash excitedly. God, she’s the most beautiful little thing I’ve ever seen.
‘Hey, princess.’ My hands are in the crib and scooping her out fast, my palms spanning her entire midriff and then some. She continues to kick in my hold as I sink my face into her neck and breathe her into me. She smells fucking divine. ‘Hmmm,’ I hum, squeezing her, relishing the pure gorgeousness of her baby skin and smell. ‘I could eat you,’ I say, meaning it. She laughs the laugh that has her inhaling and holding her breath. I fucking love that laugh.
Freeing her from my bearded face, I hold her up in front of me. ‘How’d you sleep?’ I ask, laughing when her grabby hands shoot for my face and start smacking and pulling. ‘Good?’
Her answer is a breathy baby squeal.
‘Come on.’ I bring her to my chest and hold her there with one palm across her back, grabbing her blanket with the other. ‘You can help Daddy figure out this carry thing.’
I stride out of the nursery and into the lounge, taking a seat on the couch and sitting her on my knee. She starts bucking and bouncing, shouting for the big square of pink fluff that I’m holding in front of her. I give her the blanket and pull the tangled mess of straps over. ‘Easy-to-follow instructions, it said.’
I’m mindful that Lola will be shouting for some milk soon, so I sit her in the corner of the couch and surround her with pillows, getting her all comfy and secure, before I drop to my knees on the floor and spread out the material and straps for one last attempt.
After five minutes of crisscrossing, pulling, and tying, I think I might be halfway there. ‘Looking good, Lola,’ I say, collecting her from the couch and laying her in the middle of the contraption. She beams up at me, legs kicking out and all. ‘You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?’ I guide each of her legs through what I’m assuming are leg holes, and I frown when I find an odd strap dangling down, holding it up as I try to figure out what this one does.
Lola’s laughs suddenly change into impatient shouts. Damn, she’s hungry. I look at my watch and note it’s already fifteen minutes past her feeding time. ‘Okay, okay.’ The door behind me opens, and I look back to find Callum striding in. ‘Hey,’ I say, returning my attention to my princess. His heavy boots approach until he’s standing above us, looking down at the mess of baby and straps before me. Lola’s eyes light up, and the hungry shouts transform into chuckles again, the sight of Uncle Callum making her momentarily forget that she’s starving.
‘Evening, princess.’ Callum dips and chucks her cheek, smiling brightly at my daughter. ‘What’s Daddy doing to you?’
‘Trying to get this stupid thing together.’ I drop the strap in frustration. The other one we have, the one that’s kept Lola close to my chest for the past ten months and that she’s outgrown, wasn’t this complicated.
‘What is it?’ Callum eyes the contraption with pinched brows.
‘A baby carrier.’
‘It is?’
‘Supposedly,’ I mutter, feeding Lola’s chubby legs back out through the holes and scooping her up. ‘We don’t like this one, do we, princess?’ I kiss her cheek and stand.