“Nothing,” I reassure him. Keeping my eyes on the baby, I simply add, “We’re working on a diaper change, and Mr. Milo isn’t too happy about the smell coming from his pants.”
“Oh. Shit. I thought something was wrong,” he says, coming over to join us at the couch.
“Everything is fine,” I reply, trying to soothe his frayed nerves. He needs a distraction. Maybe I’ll have him make a bottle. “Can you mix up a bottle? It’s real easy. The bottles already have water in them, so you just need to scoop out the formula. There’s a diagram on the side of the container that tells you how much to add for two ounces. Can you check that?” Chase nods frantically, retrieving what he needs and takes them into the kitchen.
“We’re almost finished, little man, and then we can have a midnight snack, okay?”
As I’m snapping closed the sleeper, Chase returns with the bottle. “I think I did it right.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” I tell him, picking up Milo and tucking him into the crook of my arm. “Let’s take it upstairs so we can put him down to sleep after his bottle.”
Chase leads the way up the stairs, back to his room. The comforter and sheets are a tangled mess atop the bed, and the room carries the faintest scent of sex. Funny, it seems like getting busy between the sheets was hours ago, yet in reality, was like fifteen minutes ago. My, how things change so quickly.
I crawl on top of the bed, Milo starting to let me know he’s getting tired of waiting for his food. Chase is there, propping the pillows against the headboard and making sure it’s as comfortable for me as can be. The moment my back is supported, I adjust the baby in my arms and give the bottle a little shake to make sure it’s good and dissolved. His cries are getting more frantic, and the moment the nipple touches his tiny lips, they latch on and he goes to town.
“Damn, he’s hungry,” Chase murmurs, settling in beside me. He rests his hand on my thigh before tentatively moving it over to touch Milo’s covered leg. “This doesn’t feel real.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of this situation. I mean, what kind of mother just drops off her newborn on a stranger’s doorstep? Well, I guess her note explained it, but I guess I just don’t know what to make of it. If this were my baby, I wouldn’t leave him for a second,” I confess, gazing down at his cute little cheeks as he suckles at the bottle nipple.
Chase relaxes just a little more, lying on his side and leaning his head in his hand. The other hand continues to gently rub Milo’s leg in a calming manner. I’m not sure if it’s for the baby or for Chase. “You’re really good with him.”
“I’ve had a little practice with Sophia. You too, for that matter,” I remind.
His response is delayed, but when he finally speaks, he says, “Yeah, but this is different. I’ve never done all the little things, you know? Yeah, I’ve changed her and given her a bottle, but I never bathed her or had to figure out what was wrong when she was fussy. Harrison and Gwen were always there for that part. Well, and you.”
“I’ll help you,” I find myself saying without even considering the implication.
My heart is pounding as realization sets in. This is so much more than babysitting. This is parenting, or co-parenting. No, he isn’t my son, but I can’t just walk away. I can’t leave Chase to deal with this drama on his own. Babies are a lot of work, from everything I’ve been told, and two heads are better than one. Four hands better than two. Helping Chase deal with this huge turn of events seems right, even if the circumstances are a little unorthodox.
“I’m afraid I’m going to need a lot of help.”
Noticing that Milo’s little cheeks aren’t moving much anymore, I pull the bottle from his lips and set it aside. It’s almost empty, which means he ate almost two full ounces. “Well, how about a crash course in burping?” I ask, adjusting the baby to get ready to pass. “Sit up.”
He does immediately, grabbing for the burp cloth tossed over my shoulder. “Like this?” he asks when he gets it in place.
“Perfect. Now, I’m going to hand him to you. Cradle him against your chest, supporting his butt with one hand, his back with the other.”
Milo whimpers the moment I adjust his position and hand him off to Chase. He holds the baby close, putting his hands right where I told him to. Without being prompted, he starts to lightly tap the baby’s back. “Watch,” I instruct, showing him how to lightly tap from the bottom of his back, slowly moving upward. “My mom always said it helps push the air up and out.”