Lara lays Fia facedown on my chest. Baby is full, dry, and kind of all limp like cooked spaghetti, so I think she’s ready for a nap.
“Good, Dean. Now close your eyes, put your hands on her back, and just feel her breathing. Feel her heartbeat against your chest.”
I do as Lara says. It’s weird, but I instantly feel relaxed. The rhythm of Fia’s soft tiny breaths, the pulse of her heart, and the amazingly sweet smell of her hair. It’s like an instant tranquilizer.
“What do you feel?” she asks.
“I guess I feel…good.”
“Do you feel like you’d do anything for her? Say a person broke into your apartment right now and wanted to take her. What would you do?”
My eyes fly open. “I’d fight them.”
“See. No one ever told you to feel protective of her. They didn’t have to. The instinct to love and care for her is just there. In your heart. It makes sense that you’d gravitate toward people who feel the same way.” Lara sits next to me.
“Do you like when I gravitate toward you?” I ask.
She blushes but ignores my question. “Stop judging yourself for how you feel.”
I feel like ending this conversation. Lara just brushed me off. Also, I need to get ready for practice. Unfortunately, the warm weight on my chest is making it difficult to escape. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever been.
I inhale slowly and enjoy the feeling. Fia is like a magical creature. She controls everything around her, including me. I just wish I knew how all this is going to play out. I have my plan, but what if it’s wrong? What if handing her over to Marli or Child Services isn’t best for Fia? What would happen if I kept her?
“What if I fuck things up?” I ask, thinking out loud.
“Not possible. As long as you listen to what’s going on in your gut, Fia will be okay. You just have to trust that.”
I give it a long moment of thought. What does my gut say?
“I’m terrified of being like my mom,” I blurt out, completely shocked once the words leave my mouth. I never talk about Mom to anyone. It’s too painful. But with Lara, the words just came out.
“Good,” Lara says. “Worrying means you’re aware, and that’ll keep you from repeating whatever your mom did to you.”
Lara doesn’t know the full story. No one really knows except Flip, and sometimes I wonder if even he understands what I went through. I had to keep our situation hidden for years. I had to make sure we ate, stayed clean, did schoolwork, and packed lunches. I had to make it seem like a responsible adult was at home, taking care of us. To this day, I’m still shocked that no one caught on. Everyone just believed my uncle was a crappy guardian who couldn’t cook. Peanut butter sandwiches or Vienna sausages for lunch every day.
After a few long moments, the baby drifts off to sleep. “I don’t want to wake her, but I have to go,” I say.
“She’s not a bubble. Fia won’t pop if you handle her when she’s sleeping. In fact, my mom always made tons of noise when we were babies—ran the vacuum with us strapped to her back. She did dishes, put the TV volume a little higher, and did her normal stuff. She claims we were able to sleep through anything no matter what.” Lara picks up Fia without any fanfare. The baby whimpers for a moment and then conks out again. “See. Just make noise and movement part of the routine. They get used to it.”
I want to ask how she knows so much, but I don’t want to pry. I figure Lara will tell me when she’s ready.
I force myself from the bed, noting my heavy, relaxed limbs. Even my joints feel looser.
I stand and face Lara. Funny, I always thought she was beautiful, but now I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time—the pronounced dip of her upper lip, the cluster of freckles on the tip of her nose, and… The way she’s looking at me. It’s more than desire. It’s electric.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure. Anytime, Hot Daddy Dean.” She flashes a smile, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean down, careful not to touch the baby, and I kiss Lara. Her lips are soft and warm and feel surprisingly wonderful. Familiar, too. It’s like I’ve kissed her a thousand times. And I still want more.
Shocked, I pull back, and she blinks up at me. “Don’t start something with me unless you really want it, Dean. I’m not…into casual.” Her eyes dart away.
In an instant, I know that kissing her was a mistake. What the fuck, Dean? What’s your rule about complicated?
Lara is basically asking me not to start something unless I mean it.