“Aw, look at you being all mushy and stuff.”
“Just speaking from the heart, my love,” I say dramatically, causing us both to laugh. Once we reach the store, I carry Milo inside and place his seat on the cart. Immediately an older lady stops us and wants to touch him. I growl, a low, deep sound from the back of my throat and she backs away slowly. I should feel bad, but I don’t have one single fuck to give. Why people think it’s okay to put their germy hands on an infant is beyond me.
“She was just being friendly.” Gabby bites her lip, trying not to laugh.
“I get that. She could have told us how cute he was or whatever it is she wanted to say without touching him. We don’t even know her and she wants to put her hands on our kid. That’s not cool, Gabs.”
“Okay, papa bear. Let’s go find what we need.”
After about an hour in Target, we decide on a drive-thru for lunch so we can get Milo home and feed him. I set up his new swing while Gabby changes his diaper and gives him a bottle. Once his belly is full and he’s swinging in his new accessory, we curl up on the couch and make out like teenagers. I kiss her slow and deep, taking my time. Just enjoying being here with her. There is nowhere else I’d rather be, and I try like hell to show her that with each kiss, with each caress.
I don’t know what the future holds. I’m still worried about the test results, but not the way I was when he appeared in our lives. Now I’m worried he won’t be mine. That this new life of ours won’t be real. I want more than anything for it to be true.Chapter ThirteenGabby 13* * *“This is crazy,” I mumble to myself, trying to figure out why the payroll program isn’t computing the numbers right. I can tell it’s not making the proper adjustments in the tax columns. I’m less than two hours away from handing out paychecks, and the program is acting up. I grab the phone on my desk, ignoring an incoming call, and dial the number for the helpline. Of course, I’m put on hold right away for the next available representative.
“Gabby, the phone is for you,” Harrison says as he steps out of his office.
“Can’t talk now. The software for payroll isn’t right. I’m on the line with the help desk,” I tell him.
“Well, it’s the Lakeview location. They say a shipment of hand towels just arrived,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay, good.”
“No, I don’t think so. The paperwork says hand towels, but that’s not what they received.”
I stop messing with the program and ask, “What did they receive?”
He looks about to burst into laughter. “Adult diapers.”
My mouth falls open, my chin practically hanging to my chest. “Adult diapers? What in the hell are we going to do with… that?” I ask, my frustration level reaching Mount St. Helens level.
“Uhhh, I’m guessing we won’t be drying our hands with them, though they promise super absorbency.”
I groan out my irritation in having to deal with this shit on a Friday afternoon and mumble a few choice words just as the technician picks up on the other line. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, no. Not you, sir. I’m sorry. Just having a shitty day,” I tell him before launching into an explanation about what the program is doing.
“Gabby?” Harrison whispers, holding his hand up to his ear and mimicking a phone.
“Tell them not to accept the shipment,” I say to him as the technician on the phone asks me to accept his computerized call to log into our system. “Yep, you’re in,” I say into the phone.
“They already did,” Harrison states.
Closing my eyes and exhaling, I turn to face my brother-in-law. “Tell them I’ll call them back. I can’t talk into two phones at once, so I’ll deal with the diapers when I’m done with the payroll,” I tell him, not able to mask my annoyance.
Harrison nods quickly, making a mad retreat like I might actually bite his head off if he remains by my desk for even a single second longer. I watch as the technician goes through the software, making a few adjustments and updates along the way. I try to focus on what he’s doing, or even the diaper mess that awaits me the moment I get this payroll mess cleaned up, but let’s be honest, that’s not where my mind is.
It’s on the little boy who’s spending the day with my sister.
Milo.
It’s my second day back to work since he arrived on our doorstep last week, and I’m feeling the loss tremendously. I’ve texted Gwen no less than eight times today, just to check in, which is an improvement over yesterday’s fourteen. Little things like reminding her of his eating schedule, how he likes you to sing the choo-choo song when changing his diaper, or to relay the fact that he was up from two until about three-thirty this morning, wide awake.