“No.” He gave me a small smile, despite his tears. “Honestly, I didn’t need to come in here. She was only fussing a little, and she probably would have gone right back to sleep. I just needed to hold her.”
We stood in silence together, looking out at the New York night.
“I don’t know how to do this, Sophie.” His shoulders slumped. It was the weight of his grief pressing him down.
“Well, I don’t either.” I tried to smile, but I felt the tears at the corners of my eyes. “We can figure it out.”
“I don’t know how to raise another person’s child.” He kissed Olivia’s head. “This was supposed to be Emma’s job, and Michael’s. I was just on standby to give her toys and make her like me.”
“Right, and now, I’m sure you’ll never buy her a single toy. Or pony.” That was an inevitability now that Emma wasn’t around to object to it. “You know how to be a father. You did a good job with Emma. You’ll do a good job with Olivia.”
“Exactly, I knew how to be father. Not a grandfather stepping into a father’s shoes.”
“Hey, we can do this.” He would probably be much better at it than I would, but I was sure I could get by, once I got some experience under my belt.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” he said softly, holding my gaze with his steady green eyes. “I know you never wanted children.”
“Don’t say that. Not when she can hear,” I said, laying my hand over his on Olivia’s back. I would never let her doubt, not for a millisecond, that we loved her and that she wasn’t just welcome, but needed, in our lives. “Sometimes, plans change, okay? And we don’t have to do this alone. My mom lives way too close to us, so I can always call on her. You were a great dad, so I can pick up some pointers from you. And it’s not just us. Valerie is going to be a part of this.”
“Ah, Valerie, yes. I’m sure you’re thrilled at that prospect,” he said with a grim laugh.
“Okay, I know I’m supposed to be like, ‘don’t let Olivia know that I don’t like Valerie,’ but she’s going to be smart. She’ll figure it out.”
“You’re very bad at disguising it,” Neil reminded me, as if I needed reminding.
“I’ll try to hone my skills. Olivia is lucky. Not every kid gets three parental figures who want so badly to succeed in raising her.” I rose on my tiptoes to kiss Olivia’s head. There was no doubt in my mind that, maternal instinct or not, I’d love this kid. I just wouldn’t ever feel like a mom. It was going to take a while to feel like I had the right.
Neil had clearly been thinking along those same lines. He lowered Olivia into her crib and started her mobile spinning, then said softly, “I feel guilty, every time I feed her, or get up with her in the night. It means Emma isn’t here. I’m not supposed to be doing the midnight check-ins, Emma and Michael are. And the guilt is just…”
He stopped and looked down, and I saw a tear fall. I put my arms around him, not knowing what else to do. He returned my embrace, his arms closing around me hard.
After the week we’d had, we’d gotten really good at holding each other up.
When he straightened and wiped his eyes, I felt like I had to say something to make him smile. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to bring it up, but you do look real, real sexy holding a baby.”
He snorted. “Yes, well, try to remember that when I’m covered in baby sick.”
Maybe it was gruesome, to be joking when we’d just that morning been at Emma and Michael’s funeral, but being near Olivia made everything seem a little more hopeful.
Right now, hope was the only thing we had to keep us together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The weeks following the funeral were the type of roller coaster that breaks down and firemen have to come to the amusement park to help the riders safely walk down from the top. There were days when Neil was a wreck, obviously. There were days when I was a wreck. But having Olivia there meant neither of us could be a wreck at the same time, and that seemed, if not healthy, at least convenient.
I’d closed up my home office; my Long Island staff now either telecommuted or regular commuted, and I wasn’t making the trip into the city as much, anymore. Things with me and Deja were…tense. She tried to be understanding, but her patience was wearing thin. We’d started the magazine together, and now, she was basically running the show on her own, while I was working just when I felt like it.
To assuage my guilt, I paid out-of-pocket for her and six of our staffers to go and cover Paris Fashion Week. They even took the private jet.
The truth was, if I’d been worried about juggling work and family when the magazine had first started, it was ten times worse, now. I’d never had to care for an infant before. Beyond changing Olivia’s diaper, feeding her an occasional bottle, and keeping her from rolling off furniture, I had no clue what I was doing. Even all the young cousins who had always been around my grandparents’ house when I was little hadn’t prepared me for the sheer panic of being totally in charge of another human life.
The first few weeks were heartbreaking. Any time anyone would open the kitchen door or enter a room, Olivia’s little head would whip around to see who it was. To see if Emma or Michael were coming back. She cried more almost every night, and Neil would stay up with her, walking circles around the nursery or rocking her. He talked to her and read her picture books, and that usually worked to calm her down. More than once, I’d woken up to hear Olivia grunting and whining while Neil cooed, “Look, Olivia. See the kanína?” which I assumed was Icelandic for rabbit, since her favorite book seemed to be Pat the Bunny.
Watching Neil with Olivia, how he spoke to her, how he would point out things I would never think to explain to a baby, only drove home how insufficient my skills were.
“See?” he said to her one day as we stood in the kitchen. “See what Sophie is doing? Hot.”
“Thanks,” I said, automatically. Then, “Oh. You’re talking about the stove.”