Can't Fight It - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,67

turns to retrieve the block Milo continually throws on the floor. When we’re both full, I pick up the dirty dishes, while Colton places the leftovers in lidded containers. After, we go about our nightly routine, as if there isn’t this big thing, this living, breathing being following us around. Colton gives Milo his bath while I sit on the closed toilet seat and watch. There’s something so soothing, so domesticated about the act that makes me want to cry. Instead, I take out my cell phone and snap a few pictures of them together. Their smiles, the tender way Colton washes his son’s hair to make sure no soap gets in his eyes, the excitement in Milo’s face when he smacks the water and sprinkles droplets all over his daddy’s shirt. I document it all with my phone.

Just in case….

After the bath, I trail behind as we head to Milo’s room. Immediately, I go to the dresser and pull out a warm footed sleeper with bears. It reminds me of the brown outfit he wore last week with the bear ears on the hood. At the changing table, Colton is trying to wrangle his son into a diaper, but the little one is wiggling all over the place, throwing his head to the side as if he were about to roll over.

“Listen here, little monkey. You need to hold still so I can get this diaper on you before the waterworks start.”

I can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, it happened a lot when he was an infant. The moment the cold air would hit his boy part, it was like someone flipped on the faucet,” he adds, finally securing the diaper into place.

While he sets out to get the child into the sleeper, I head into the kitchen and make his bottle. As I’m shaking the water and formula together, I find Colton and Milo standing in the doorway, watching me. I offer a small smile and follow them back into Milo’s room. My gut churns with anxiety as we approach the rocking chair. The one Colton uses to rock his son to sleep.

“May I?” I find myself asking.

He nods in reply and hands me his son. I set my phone down on the small table by the chair and take a seat, positioning him in the crook of my arm. He’s getting bigger every day, and I know it won’t be long before we’ll have to come up with another way to get him to sleep.

We.

Will I be a part of it?

I grin widely when I glance down at the baby. His daddy gave him a baby mohawk, even though his hair isn’t very long.

“He gave me permission to style it that way. He said he wanted to look cool for bedtime,” Colton says.

“Well, he’s definitely the coolest dude here,” I confirm, tapping the baby on his nose with my finger. He reaches for it, and the moment he catches my hand, he tries to shove the fingers in his mouth.

“Ouch. I’m being upstaged by a four-month-old.”

“I’m sure your ego can handle it.”

“Yeah. I mean, he did get his good looks from me, after all,” he says, smiling from ear to ear as he looks down.

I take my fingers from his mouth and replace them with his bottle. Milo instantly starts to suck it down, his blue eyes never wavering from mine. There’s so much trust and gratification in those tiny eyes, as if he knows we’ll always take care of him and give him what he needs.

Colton moves away, letting me take care of his son. Gently, I start to rock the chair and hum a song I heard on the radio earlier. It’s a country tune about finding love, only to lose it. Probably not the vibe I was going for. Or ever. The thought of losing my new love makes me want to toss my cookies. I just found him. How can he be stripped away so quickly?

As I keep rhythm with my humming and rocking, Milo’s eyes start to grow heavy. His bottle is nearly empty, and he spits out the nipple, an indication that he’s full. Carefully, I set the bottle to the side and move him to my shoulder. With tender taps, I snuggle him to my chest, inhaling his sweet baby scent. Is there anything better than baby shampoo?

Yes, Colton’s body wash.

When I get a nice burp from the sleeping baby, I get up and head to the crib. Colton is there and