Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“She looks like she needs a nap,” I said, though I was reluctant to part the two of them. “Or maybe just to go to bed. What time is it?”
“It’s seven p.m.,” Neil said, and I groaned.
“Arctic Circle?” I asked despondently, and he nodded grimly in reply. I pressed the heels of my hands to my forehead. “I’m never going to sleep! The sun is up like it’s noon!”
“We’re not actually in the Arctic Circle. It will get dimmer around midnight,” he said, then added, quieter, “for about three hours.”
“Fantastic.” I got up and went to him, intending to take Olivia from his arms.
His hold on her tightened, just a little, and he gave me an embarrassed look. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long—”
“I completely understand. When she went to England with Valerie, I almost went out of my mind. How about I get her bottle and her jammies, and you can put her down?”
He nodded gratefully, and I traipsed off to get Olivia’s things. When I passed my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, I groaned. Unlike the townhouse in London, there was no elevator to help me here.
Olivia’s mini-suitcase was much easier to handle. I opened it and rummaged around for a sleeper—despite the fact that it was June, the house was still kind of chilly—then fished a bottle and some formula from the diaper bag. It was so much easier and quicker than thawing donor breast milk, especially once Mom assured me that mixing the powder with hot tap water was just as safe as using bottled, filtered stuff. She’d also had to convince me that I wasn’t actively abusing Olivia by letting her drink formula, despite what the parenting message boards said.
I practically skipped up the stairs. Sure, we had Mariposa back home, but I’d still felt a lot of weird pressure being the only parent in the house. Now that Neil was with us again, I panicked less and was more sure of myself. My Pokémon evolution from Child Free to Stand-In Mother hadn’t quite reached its final stage yet, no matter how much smarter I’d gotten with regards to baby care.
Neil had chosen Emma’s former bedroom as Olivia’s nursery. The burnt orange walls matched the color scheme of the entire house, and the crib was sturdy, black, and modern.
“Wow, this is very…coordinated,” I said as I stepped inside. Neil sat in the black enameled rocking chair by the window, Olivia fussing in his arms. To my relief, I noted that soft white wall-to-wall carpeted the floor. I handed him the bottle. “She’s on a bunch of solids now, but she really wants this when she’s sleepy.”
He tucked her into the crook of his arm, and she reached up, grabbing the bottle and his hand and pulling them both toward her mouth.
“She’s gotten so strong,” he mused, his expression as full of wonder as it had been on the day she’d been born. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much.”
“You’ve got the chance to make it up, now,” I said, as though it were that easy to brush off his sadness at the loss of that time. “Like, while we’re here, for example. You can get up in the night with her.”
He never tore his eyes from her face. “I would love to.”
They needed some alone time to get reacquainted. “I’m going to go get unpacked.”
Rather than try to carry the whole suitcase upstairs, I unzipped it in the foyer and lifted out a stack of clothes; I’d just make several trips until I’d put everything away. I had no idea how long we were staying, and I really didn’t want to live out of my luggage. But I also wasn’t used to climbing long flights of stairs, so I was only half done with the job when I collapsed, fully winded, on the couch in the living room.
Neil came back from the nursery, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked toward me. “I’ve missed that. Holding her while she falls asleep.”
“She missed you, too.” I stretched, every muscle in my body protesting. Even in a private plane with plenty of room to sprawl out, flying destroyed my body. I groaned with relief.
“I suppose now is the time when we talk,” he said, sitting on the couch beside me, not quite touching me. “And I do copious amounts of apologizing.”
Though my first instinct was to tell him not to worry about it, I realized how silly that would be. I couldn’t hold Neil solely responsible for his actions; he was mentally ill, after all, and we both had to accept that if we were going to have any kind of life from this point out. But I also couldn’t give him blanket forgiveness when his actions really had hurt me.