The door behind me opens. I expect to see Colton there but am pleasantly surprised to find Gabby at the entrance. “Hey,” she whispers, instantly smiling when she sees her nephew sitting on the floor. “He’s sitting up,” she observes.
“I hope it’s okay. I saw the Bumpo seat along the wall and thought he might like to try it. I’m right here and watching him closely to make sure nothing happens to him,” I tell her, my heart starting to pound in my chest. I guess I’m not sure if he’s supposed to be sitting up or not in this thing, but I’ve seen him sit on the couch with Colton before, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt anything.
Gabby waves her hand. “Oh, it’s fine. He’s the perfect age for it,” she observes, that smile still on her pretty face. Her belly is getting bigger every time I see her, but that doesn’t stop her from coming over and squatting beside Milo. “Hey, little man. How are you?”
Milo grins at his aunt, waving his teether in her direction.
“Aww, I heard those nasty toothies are being mean to you,” she coos in a voice meant for babies. Gabby takes a seat on the opposite side of him and helps hold the teething toy. The baby continues to chomp on it, big wads of drool hanging from his chin.
I reach for the cloth and wipe his face, which irritates him a little, but he keeps moving that toy against his gums. “He’s having a tough time with that first tooth, aren’t you, buddy?” I say, the smile instantaneous on my lips.
“He seems to be doing better today,” she notices.
“He had a dose of Tylenol before we left, so he’s feeling better right now.” When I glance up, she’s staring at me, the hint of a smile on her face. “What?” I ask.
Gabby smiles even wider now. “Nothing. Well, it’s just you look… different.”
Feeling a little uncomfortable under the sister-in-law microscope, I chuckle awkwardly and ask, “Different how?”
“Not bad,” she quickly replies. “It’s kinda hard to put into words, but I guess I’d say you look… happy.” She takes a long pause before she adds, “Colt too.”
Those stupid tears that seem to never want to stop today prickle my eyeballs and make me blink unnaturally. “I don’t know about that.” I avoid eye contact and fuss over Milo’s bib, making sure it’s absorbing as much of his drool as possible.
“I do,” she says, drawing my attention back to her. “Colt, when he came home, he was sort of lost. He was thrust into this new life he didn’t expect, and it was really hard on him. He hid it well, but we could see it. He was a career military man, and all of a sudden, he was a single dad and working a nine-to-five. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s amazing with Milo, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a hard adjustment for him.”
“I couldn’t imagine,” I tell her, knowing he had a tough transition. I am so thankful he had his family to help him. It makes my own chest fill with longing for my own family. My dad passed away when I was a young girl, and my mom moved to Florida a few years back. She works for the Hilton Hotels and Resorts and was offered a job overseeing a region in sunny Florida. It was a great opportunity for her, and you can’t beat the weather.
“My point is, he’s different recently. He smiles more and seems to be eager to leave the gym and head home. I think it has a lot to do with you,” she says, that knowing look in her eyes.
I’m saved from having to reply just yet when Milo decides he’s had enough sitting. He hollers his displeasure and brings on the waterworks.
“Oh, Milo,” Gabby sings, glancing over at me. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. He’s your nephew. I’m just the sitter,” I tell her, swallowing over the thickness in my throat. Just saying that, making light of what Colt and I share as if I’m nothing more than someone who watches the baby, doesn’t sit well with me, because we’ve become so much more than that.
At least it feels like we have.
“Come to Auntie Gabs,” she coos, picking up the squirmy baby. Milo gazes up at her, but the tears continue to fall. He rubs his eyes, letting us know he’s getting sleepy again. She takes him over to the changing table, grabbing a diaper on her way, and sets out to change his pants. I grab a bottle of water and the formula from the bag and mix up his next meal.
When she heads my way, Milo is still not happy, even with clean britches. She heads over to the rocking chair and takes a seat. I hand her the bottle right away, which she places in his mouth. He drinks for a few seconds, but then spits it out and cries. Gabby rocks gently, trying to get Milo to settle down, but he’s just not having it.