it, and still get somewhat of a wave into my hair by midway through the day.
But when I didn’t? My hair turned into a riot of curls. Think Shirley Temple but with hair down past the small of my back.
Like fuckin’ Merida off of Brave.
His eyebrows went up the moment that he saw my hair.
“You have curly hair,” he said, eying it.
I stuck my hand into it and shook some of the curls out, pulling the majority of it out from beneath the sweatshirt.
“Yeah,” I said. “I spend a significant amount of time straightening it every day. But I’m just not in the mood to deal with it right now.”
His eyes took me in, his lips tipping up at the ends.
“Why?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it before shrugging.
“When I was in high school,” I admitted. “I hated my hair. I guess it’s just become so much of a habit at this point that I don’t really pay attention.”
“I like it,” he said.
The little boy in his arms started to scream.
“Umm,” I hesitated. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking for diapers?”
He sighed.
“Christiny is a dumbass,” he admitted. “She thought that it would be a grand idea to go out on a date…but leave her son at home while she did. Alone. The neighbors called the cops because Raj was screaming his head off. He has a fever.” Hayes paused. “Ryan’s out of town. So I’m doing him a favor, taking Raj, until he gets home.”
I smiled slightly.
“Did you get him some Tylenol?” I asked.
Hayes shook his head.
“No, but the CPS—child protective services—chick did. She said he can have more in about two hours.” He paused. “I have to buy some. Along with diapers…”
I moved forward until I was close to Hayes.
So close that I could smell his cologne.
“May I?” I asked, gesturing to the small boy.
He shrugged and thrust the kid forward.
“Usually the size of the diapers are written on the front of them,” I said as I pulled the front of his sweatpants down and glanced at the diaper.
The very full, in need of a change at least a couple of hours ago, diaper.
“It says three.” I paused. “But I think that it’s kind of tight. You could get away with moving him up to a four.”
The boy laughed at me, and I tickled his stomach before pulling away.
Hayes tucked the kid into his arms like one would a rolled-up rug, then glanced at the boxes of diapers.
“How many does a kid go through?” he wondered.
I gestured toward a box that had ninety-six in it.
“They’re almost the same price as those,” I pointed to the bag. “And if you don’t use them all, you can donate them to the local shelter.”
Hayes picked up the box and threw it in the buggy that I now saw was filled with more stuff.
“He’s still using bottles?” I asked curiously.
Hayes looked at the bottles, then at me.
“He’s not supposed to?” he asked.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just think they’re done with them at about a year. And then they move up to a sippy cup.”
Hayes put the little boy—Raj—into the seat of the cart, then went back to the plethora of bottles and tossed them all onto the first shelf he saw.
I rolled my eyes and walked past him to the cups, pulling two off the shelf.
“I think they’re allowed to have whole milk now,” I admitted. “Apple juice, I think, if you can water it down.” I paused when I looked at the toy he’d bought. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to let him play with this just yet. There are too many small parts and he might choke on them.”
Hayes looked at the ceiling and groaned. “Goddamn Christiny.”
I felt my lips twitch, then started taking the things out of the cart that I didn’t think he needed.
“What else do you think I need?” he asked when I got it all put back—in the right spots, might I add.
I looked at the wall of baby shit.
“How long will you have him?” I asked.
“Until tomorrow night.” He paused. “At the earliest.”
I walked to the baby wash and pulled the smallest bottle they had down