Did he expect me to plead with him not to?
And what the fuck was going on with his nose that he couldn’t smell death in the air?
When he opened the door, I took a step away and watched as he gave me a brave little smile before ducking inside the back seat.
I held my breath as I watched through the window as he unbuckled Mo from her seat, whispering who the hell knew what to her—probably how smart she was and how she was never going to need a man other than her daddy—and still Jonah didn’t flinch or slow down as those big fingers worked at her straps. Those big hands then went under her armpits, and he was talking away at her, making happy faces like that wasn’t radiation in the air as he lifted her up.
And I sucked in another breath, planning on holding it and letting this boss handle Poopy Pants since he had no olfactory senses. How many times exactly had he had his nose broken? Fuck.
I watched as Jonah took a step back and began to straighten, bringing a wide-eyed squirming and babbling Mo to that wide chest. “I don’t know what you—”
His mouth shut. Those lips of his pressed down into a firm line that made the corners of it go white. He shot up to a complete standing position, and I watched his own honey-colored eyes go wide.
His lips parted, and then they parted some more until they were open half an inch.
Mostly, there was no way to miss the way he gulped and asked very, very cautiously, “Lenny?”
“Yeah?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as his arms began to extend outward, moving Mo slowly away from him as he asked in the most hesitant voice he’d yet to use with me, “What is that?”
I knew it! “I told you she smelled!”
He shook his head quickly, blinking rapidly all of a sudden. “No.” Those big feet moved so that his whole body did too in a counterclockwise motion, stopping only when Mo’s back was facing me.
My eyes went wide and my own mouth parted before I managed to whisper, “Oh fuck.”
His voice was just slightly higher than normal. “Oh fuck what?”
One of my feet slid back on the concrete. “Oh dear God.”
Mo’s body went two inches higher, two inches farther away from her dad; his voice even sharper than a second ago as he asked, “Oh dear God what?”
I blew out my cheeks, slapped my hand over my mouth, and gagged. It was honestly a fucking miracle I didn’t throw up, and I knew it. I could handle feet on my face. I could handle touching them. Sweaty armpits on my cheek or forehead were nothing. Blood? No big deal. Pee? Whatever.
But….
Jonah held her even higher up and asked in a voice that was definitely fucking higher, “What is on her back?”
I gagged again.
“What is on her back?” he demanded in that Jonah with a capital J voice.
I pinched my nose, closed my eyes, and shook my head, hoping, fucking willing myself not to actually fucking throw up... and not totally sure I could pull it off when my stomach did a damn somersault.
“Lenny, what is on her back?” he asked breathlessly, holding his daughter—our daughter—about as far away from his body as he could get. “Why is her back wet? What is all over my fingers?”
The only thing I could do was press my eyes closed, shake my head, and dry heave with a balled-up hand over my mouth.
“Why is her back so warm?” Jonah gasped. “What am I touching?”
Shit.
Literally.
“Lenny.”
My hand was still over my mouth when I whispered one word and one word only.
“Diarrhea.”
The breath he let out was a whisper. “Tell me it doesn’t go all the way up to her neck.”
I couldn’t lie.
So I didn’t say a word.
It went all the way up to her neck.
And into her hair.
From what I could see, the poop went all the way closer to her tiny, little ears.
It was slow motion as Jonah gulped, and those hands holding that baby started raising her even higher… and higher… and higher… until her butt was straight over his head and he was looking up at that pants, onesie, and diaper-covered bottom… eyes widening by the millisecond as the rest of his face joined together to make a horrified expression. I could only guess he wanted to confirm with his own eyes what was going on.
And that was when it happened.
When that butt was up high… two or three feet over his head… eyes up and wide… mouth open too in a frozen mask of terror…
And at least for me, I’d remember that shit—literally—for the rest of my life.
I’d remember something that looked like a teaspoon of mustard-colored blob fall like a gruesome, mutated drop of oatmeal rain… on Jonah’s fucking cheek.
We both gasped at the same time.
Mo laughed a second before she said, “Ba, da!”
The moment hung in the air in the time it took me to let my mouth drop totally wide open in shock and disbelief.
“Lenny, what was that?” Jonah whispered.
HOLY FUCK.
“What just fell on my face?”
HOLY SHIT.
“What is that smell?”
I took a step back.
“Why are you stepping away? What fell on my face? What is that smell?” he demanded, sounding so fucking desperate. Jonah dry heaved as he lowered his arms, Mo kicking her legs, and he shook his head. “Please tell me that was a bird dropping on my face,” he whispered.
I took a half step back, clutching my fingers to my chest… and I lied. “It was a bird dropping,” I whispered too.
My girl was held parallel to the ground again, giving me a clear, clear view of a horrified handsome face… with a clump of Mo poop on a cheek.
On Jonah’s cheek.
I managed to keep my lips pressed together for about two seconds before I lost it.
I bent over and burst out fucking laughing as Jonah thrust her away from him as far as possible again… and gagged.
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked an hour and a half later as I drove us down the street after… everything.
Jonah’s laugh was more of a puff when he answered with, “No, love. I was never mad.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to keep my eyes straight on the road. “You weren’t mad when I was crying laughing then?”
Because I’d been crying laughing a lot. Especially after Mo’s poop had landed on his face. And while he’d been cleaning it off with a baby wipe afterward. And when he’d carried her into his hotel room, holding her away from his body as he let out a dry heave here and there.
I’d also been crying laughing when I’d wiped her off as best as I could with baby wipes, when I’d jumped into the shower with her, and again when I’d gone back down to the parking lot and found him arranging the newly cleaned car seat cover. I didn’t even want to know how much it had to have cost him to get that thing washed and dried in record time while Mo and I had gotten cleaned up.
The whole fucking thing had been hilarious in a fucked-up way.
To give him credit, he’d only been serious at first.
But still.
He’d gotten shit on his face.
Dreams did come true sometimes.
That big body angled itself in the seat better, and I didn’t need to look at him to know that he was more than likely making a face at me. “No.”