new crib, dresser, and changing table, and he kept the order a secret until the moment I signed for the delivery.
I’d nearly burst into tears as the company unloaded furniture fit for a princess into Rose’s nursery. He wouldn’t even let me say thank you, just said that she deserved it.
“Mamamama.” Rose simultaneously cuddled and tried to escape. “Book!”
She was definitely my child—in love with any book she could chew on. Unfortunately, she loved them a little too much. One fairy tale became two. Two unsuccessful bedtimes in the crib became three.
And like that, my sixteen-month-old daughter held me hostage against my own hunger, exhaustion, and bladder.
A funny thing happened on the cusp of insanity—a person negotiated with a toddler for the chance to fulfill their basic emotional and physical needs.
“One more story and then momma really needs to go potty.”
Rose disagreed. “No!”
“Momma doesn’t get to wear a diaper like some lucky people.”
“No!” She slapped the book and kicked. Her heel dug into my side, striking dead-center on my bladder.
“Not cool,” I groaned.
Rose squirmed against me, nearly doing a somersault in my lap. We were both quickly approaching our limit. So I started the last story of the night, and I meant it. I opened the book.
“Rosie, once upon a time there was a princess…see the princess? And a lot of things happened to her…like she really had to go to the bathroom and it had been fourteen hours since her last meal. Yes! There’s a bunny! So a fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a babysitter and brought the princess a sandwich. And it had ham and cheese and some potato chips on the side. Then the princess lived happily ever after because her thoracic cavity wasn’t filling with urine.” I kissed her forehead. “And look, there’s the picture of a frog. Wasn’t that a nice story?”
“I’ve heard better.”
Rose screeched in utter joy as Cole leaned against the doorway, binding his hair into a ponytail. A wise move when sharing a space with Rose.
“You think you could do better?” I asked.
“Hell no.”
“Ever try?”
“Try what? Telling a kid a bedtime story?” He laughed, hard. “Do you think I’ve ever uttered the words true love’s first kiss? Hell, when I was a kid I got a fist to the back of the head when my old man decided I should go to sleep, and it worked.”
I stopped rocking, and Cole’s smirk faded. He hadn’t meant to be quite so honest, and he changed the subject before I could ask any invasive questions.
“I, uh…” He picked up a present he had hidden outside the room. “I got something…for the baby.”
He didn’t open the box all the way, just flashed me the contents on the sly. I grinned.
“You bought another Mr. Bunny Bumpybottom?”
“Three of ‘em. A whole Rumpleass family in case she loses him again.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Really.”
Rose kicked again, grabbing for the book. I squirmed and hissed a harsh breath.
“You all right?” Cole asked. “You’re dancing.”
“If I ask you for a major favor—”
I came on too strong. He saw through it. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“I’m about to burst, Cole.”
“Whatever it is…no. I know that look. You want me to do something—”
“Watch the baby for a minute?”
“You should have told me you were out of your damn mind before we slept together.”
I stood, a risky endeavor. I regretted the skirt as I crossed my legs. “It’s really easy. You come here...”
“Nope.”
“And sit in the chair.”
“This has to be a breach of our contract.”
I pushed him to the rocker. “Please. I only need five minutes.”
He might have said no to me, but Rose looked up at him with big eyes and a bigger smile. She reached for him with grabby hands.
“Beautiful…” He swallowed. Was he that scared of a little baby? “I’m not good with kids.”
“That’s because you haven’t been around them much.”
“I tend to avoid breakables, and I could accidentally crush a kid.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“That makes one of us.”
“Babies are simple,” I said. “All you gotta do is hold ‘em close before they grow up—and that happens too quick.”
He was ready to fight me, but he sighed instead. “Are you going downstairs?”
“I could.”
“Bring me a soda and we got a deal.”
“You still can’t open the fridge?”
“Damn it, woman. Do you want me to watch your baby or not?”
“Soda it is.”
Cole didn’t fit in the rocking chair, but he tried. The old wooden frame creaked, and he squeezed as best he could into the seat. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but nothing collapsed.
“Hold her on