Pit Stop: Baby: Dirty DILFs Book 4

by Quinn, Taryn

  No matter how much part of me wanted to.

  Thirteen

  Babies needed a lot of stuff.

  For someone who was newly unemployed—again—Baby Rama was overwhelming. Forget even the cost of things. The sheer amount of items needed to properly provide for a child was staggering.

  How did people manage?

  The kid would need pacifiers and special cups that didn’t spill and head supports and pillows to brace their floppy frames. Toys. Clothes.

  A place to live.

  Was my apartment big enough for us? It didn’t seem so, since it was scarcely big enough for me. I could dance in the living room and almost touch all four walls.

  I had savings, thank God, and I suspected Gage wouldn’t skimp on helping out, but he’d probably be hitting the road soon. He’d indicated he wasn’t thinking about racing right now, but everyone needed a break sometimes. No matter what he’d said, he’d probably just temporarily hit the pause button on his life. It was in his blood too much for him to not go back.

  Wasn’t it?

  We’d have to work out visitation schedules and child support and so many other things.

  At least not today.

  Lord, there were so many kinds of diapers. How was a person supposed to know which to pick? I didn’t even know if I was having a girl or boy yet, but they had certain patterns for wetness and diapers suited for each.

  The world of parenting was a vast, terrifying place, and I had no handbook.

  While my sister and her girl crew were squealing over tiny shoes and sandals, I leaped upon my version of the Holy Grail.

  What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

  There was even a sign for it, right in the middle of a rack of many other frightening baby books.

  That would be my savior. An easy, step by step guide that hopefully didn’t have too much scary terminology.

  Some people were frightened of clowns or horror movies. Not me. I could watch just about anything with Macy without even hiding my eyes.

  But sweet mercy, I still hadn’t recovered from hearing about something called a “mucus plug” from my cheerfully informative sister. Somehow she’d developed a feeling of Zen toward the birthing process.

  I had not reached that place yet.

  I might not ever get there, especially if I couldn’t find this fucking book.

  “Where is it?” Sweat blurred into my eyes as I dug through the other books, tossing them to and fro, desperate to find one copy. I needed the latest version, in case there were new discoveries or something.

  I wasn’t going to start my parenting adventure with an outdated copy. Maybe one before they even knew mucus plugs existed.

  On the other hand, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

  “There has to be one left. Just one.” I spun around and came face to face with Kelsey. Or face to breasts, because my sister was taller than me and her boobs were fairly ginormous right now.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re all sweaty and pale.” She held a hand to my forehead. “You feel hot. Oh jeez, I hope you don’t have that same virus little Star does.”

  “Star sounds like a hooker’s name,” I snapped, backing up to get some air.

  And bumped right into the little swiveling rack of books. They all went flying, and look at that, there was my book.

  I dove on it like a seagull swarming toward the last French fry, clutching it to my chest and throwing out a hand to ward off the approaching blue-clad Baby Rama worker. I knew she worked there because they had these dopey little hats that looked like beanies with propellers.

  If it was supposed to be cute, it failed. Miserably.

  “Mine,” I enunciated carefully, fully ready to do battle if she tried to pry it out of my hands.

  I didn’t know why she would, just that I’d caused a scene and made a mess and oh yeah, called Sage’s baby a hooker. At least I had to assume that was why the normally friendly blond was staring at me with a murderous expression.

  Oops.

  “I didn’t mean she was a hooker, or even would be one, because she’s a baby. Just that her name is very—well, sexualized. Or it could be, if you watch too many movies.” I crossed my arms over my chest and swallowed a whimper as she came toward me. I wasn’t a street fighter, and this woman clearly had the rage advantage. “Personally, I love the name.”

  Before she reached me, I booked down the aisle, hopping over the couple of books that had somehow been flung farther than the others. I needed to clean up my disaster, but first, I needed to flee. I had a child to protect.

  Good story, Ry.

  Two aisles over, my sister caught up with me. She was huffing and puffing, which made me feel momentarily guilty until she spoke.

  “You need to apologize to Sage.”

  I winced. “Didn’t I already do that?” Kinda.

  “That was very mean what you said.”

  “I didn’t mean to lash out at her. I’m just a little freaked out right now. Look at this place.” I waved my hand at the rows of car seats and strollers and a million different contraptions I didn’t even have a clue what to do with. “It’s crazy. How can a newborn need this many things? How do people not go into the poorhouse? Oh, I know, land yourself a richy rich Hamilton—”

  Kelsey’s hand covered my mouth. Probably wisely. “You have insulted my friends enough for one day. And besides, a little hypocritical, aren’t you? Gage isn’t exactly a pauper.”

  She dropped her hand and I tipped back my head to take a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m going crazy.”

  At least I didn’t immediately launch into all the reasons Gage’s wealth had nothing to do with me providing for my child. I was progressing.

  Not that anyone would be able to tell from the last few minutes.

  This was like the situation with Kathy, except worse, because Sage hadn’t done anything to harm me. She hadn’t even given me attitude. She was just so blond and pretty and self-assured, with her perfect husband and adorable vomiting hooker-baby.

  Bad Rylee.

  “I’m not assuming anything there.”

  “Because he’s irresponsible,” Kelsey said flatly, crossing her arms. “You’re steeling yourself against certain disappointment.”

  “No, I didn’t say that.”

  Well, maybe a little.

  “I’m your sister. You can be honest with me about your fears. I’m on your side.”

  The compassion in her expression nearly undid me. Instead, I held up the book I’d fought wars for. “This is going to tell me how to do everything. I won’t feel so helpless and stupid after I read this.”

  Kelsey sighed. “It’s just a book, Ry. Not a fairy godmother who will grant you all the knowledge in the universe.” She rubbed the side of her belly. “Maybe you should talk to Mom?”

  “Why?”

  “She raised two girls. Might have some insight, you know.”

  “Well, yeah, I’m sure she does. But what is she going to say when she hears I’m knocked up too, just like you were?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be shocked and appalled, but she’ll probably recover. Someday. After lots of therapy.”

  I paced away from her up the aisle and picked up a giraffe that lit up and giggled maniacally. Creepy. I set it back down. “I’m not like you, Kel. She knows I can’t hold a job. I’m not a stable teacher with a planner that has my life detailed out to the nth degree. I’m lucky if I can remember to buy TP.”

  “Yet I still had to deal with an unexpected situation,” she reminded me. “Life happens.”

  Sometimes I hated how reasonable my sister was. It was probably why she’d been born first. If I’d been the older sister, my advice would’ve been stuff like, “Never combine beer with hard liquor.”

  “You had Dare though. He knew how to do the kid thing. Gage is as clueless as I am.”

  “And he’s not exactly the kind of man to step up and offer his hand either.”

  I frowned. “Hand for what?”r />
  She moved closer and extended her arms to place her hands on my shoulders. With her rapidly increased belly size, she couldn’t quite hug me the way she once had.

  That would be me soon enough. Especially due to my peanut butter obsession.

  “I know it’s scary to be going through this alone. But I’m here for you. Dare and I both will be, if you need anything. Like…a loan or a place to stay—”

  “I told you, I’m not alone. He’s trying.” Why couldn’t she believe that? Were Kel and Dare that determined to believe the worst about Gage?

  I could get why I was seen as the Ford family fuck-up. But Gage was a millionaire. Had to be. He’d been super successful in his career and could do anything he wanted. Yet they acted as if he couldn’t be trusted to put down the toilet seat.

  “I understand that you want to hope for the best.”

  “Of course I do, but it’s not Gage I’m worried about.” Or not entirely. Pretty much everything had me panicked at the moment. “I just don’t know what the future is going to look like. I’m not the girl who needs to plan out every day in advance, but it feels like I have to now. Because I don’t want to screw up this baby. It just feels like I’m destined to.”

  “Can you give us a second?”

  I went still at the perky voice coming from behind us. Mainly because I felt like it was a trap. Sage shouldn’t be sounding that way toward me after my heinous remark.

  Kel apparently thought the same because her hands tightened on my shoulders. “I was going to take her over to Baby Rama Eats. She should keep up her strength.”

  “Oh, I’m starving. I’ll buy her some French fries.” Sage reached for my hand and tugged me with her.

  Helplessly, I waved at my sister. I nearly mouthed, “call 911,” but I managed not to.

  There was a small restaurant attached to the baby store. Tacking on the equivalent of a McDonald’s complete with play area onto a kid shop was a little odd, but I supposed it was an ingenious way to keep the children busy and fed while the parents shopped.

  Sage was true to her word and bought us both French fries and milkshakes. Vanilla for me, chocolate for her. We sat at a tiny table shaped like a mushroom and I ate rapidly while I tried not to make it obvious that I was half waiting for Sage to pull out a weapon from her boat-sized purse.

  “I’m not mad at you,” Sage announced.

  “I’m sorry I said that. I’m not myself right now.”

  Sadly, I was very much myself. I said rude things that got me in trouble often. I just had the excuse of pregnancy hormones along with exhaustion and worries I couldn’t discuss with my sister.

  She probably didn’t even remember I turned into a zombie sometimes after dark. She was already concerned enough that Gage and I were completely incapable of raising an infant that I wasn’t about to remind her of my issue as a teenager.

  As a teenager and currently. Yay me.

  Sage shrugged. “Actually, my husband would probably agree with you. Which I will admit is part of the reason I insisted that we named her Star. Oliver needed some shaking up. If it’d been up to him, he would’ve probably named her Eleanor Mildred.”

  I snorted and inhaled salt off my fry into a place it should not go. Once I’d soothed my throat with some of my shake, I had to grin. “He does seem a little uptight.”

  “Most of the time.” The way she said it made me think that Oliver was capable of shedding his prim and proper attitude when necessary, but we weren’t close enough for me to pump her for salacious information.

  “She really is a gorgeous baby. I’m probably just jealous.” Saying it aloud was a revelation.

  Because I probably was.

  I’d never thought I wanted a kid or a husband. At least not yet. But now that I was pregnant, I was suddenly aware of all I didn’t have. My life felt so tenuous. For the first time, security was the most appealing thing in the world.

  Was this my version of nesting? I’d thought that happened in like the eighth month or something.

  I sneaked a glance at the purchased book now tucked securely in the plastic bag at my hip. I’d find out all the details about how pregnancy worked soon enough.

  God help me.

  “Thanks.” Sage unwrapped her straw. “We’re more alike than you realize.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes. I realize we barely know each other, but I’ve gotten the feeling from Kel you weren’t the settling down type.”

  “Accurate.”

  Partly for reasons people couldn’t begin to guess. I didn’t know how to trust a guy. And if I couldn’t trust a dude with a sleep disorder millions of people dealt with, why bother trying to build a relationship beyond the physical?

  I knew not all men were dicks. Some would understand. It was just that risking it felt so huge and scary, and I’d never met anyone since Shane who seemed worth the leap.

  Until now. Maybe.

  “I had always told myself I wanted to have a husband and kids, but not yet. I was a virgin, for God’s sake. I wanted to play the field a little. At least get on the field, you know?” She slurped hard on her straw.

  “Yeah, I do.” I played with my straw wrapper. “It’s different for guys.”

  “So different. But once I came to terms with being pregnant, I realized I didn’t really want to play the field, because I’d already found more than I’d hoped for. If you strike gold, why go back to mining for iron?”

  “Well, iron isn’t exactly a bad thing to find, but yeah.”

  “You know what I mean. I’m just saying maybe look on the bright side. You’re panicking and overwhelmed, understandably, but Gage is right there with you. Or he should be.”

  “He is,” I said quietly.

  So far, he’d been more supportive than I could’ve ever asked for. Family or not, we were basically strangers who liked to see each other without our clothes.

  “That said, I’m having extreme mommy guilt about leaving my hooker baby when she’s sick.”

  It took me a minute to hear what Sage had said, but once I did, a laugh spilled out before I could stop it. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God, I’m really sorry. Please forgive me?”

  She grinned and popped a fry in her mouth. “Don’t worry about it. But I’m about to ask you for a favor.”

  “Sure. I basically owe you anything you could possibly ask for.”

  “Would you help Kel and Ally go through the store and find stuff for the registry? I hate to bail, but I really need to be home. And not even because Oliver can’t manage to take care of the baby, because he’s frighteningly competent at most things. I just miss her. I want to be the one who cares for her. With him.” Sage’s cheeks bloomed pink and I ducked my head, more embarrassed than if she’d started talking about her sex life.

  Seeing someone so in love with her kid and her husband was even more intimate.

  And I wanted that. I wanted to be the woman who couldn’t wait to get home to my child and my guy, even if they were puking.

  Well, the kid. I’d probably rather not deal with a sick man, ever, since they were worse than any infant. When my dad was sick, my mom usually wanted to hide in the basement with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

  Or a jug of wine.

  “Go ahead. I’ll do registry detail. Sister bonding activity and all that. Besides, we’re all moms here. We get it.”

  Holy crap. I was a mom.

  Or almost a mom, though probably being an incubator counted.

  “Thanks. You’re the best. Though you may get a call from my husband when I slip and refer to Star as the hooker baby.” She grinned and waved, grabbing our tray—with my half-eaten French fries, but whatever—on her way out.

  I saw her chatting with and then hugging Ally and Kel inside the store before she split. Not ten minutes later, a sleek black sports car showed up at the curb and she slipped inside. I looked away, but looked back again when the car lingered. They were clearly engaged in a marathon kiss. Which was a positive
sign that romance didn’t die after childbirth.

  Then again, I hadn’t had any romance yet. So, what was I worried about?

  I chewed on my straw.

  Everything.

  I was worried about everything.

  When I rejoined Ally and Kel, they’d filled the cart with all kinds of baby goodness. Scary stuff like industrial containers of wipes—for industrial amounts of poop—and truly small onesies. I wanted to go back to check out the books again, but I didn’t want to return to the scene of the crime quite so soon. Besides, it was time to pick out the stuff Kel wanted her guests to get her as presents for the shower.

  Dutifully, I scanned the items she wanted, listening to endless debates about the merits of certain car seats and swings and baby bathtubs. That one vexed me. I mean, why couldn’t the kid be washed in a regular tub?

  “It’s too large. The baby needs to feel secure.”

  I stared at Kel. “I don’t think Mom washed me in any special bathtub.”

  “Yes, and see how you turned out?”

  I didn’t have an argument for that one. But I also wasn’t putting any fancy schmancy plastic deal on my registry either.

  If I needed one.

  If anyone even bothered to give me a shower.

  My closest friend in town was Macy, and she wasn’t exactly one to plan games of the pin the rattle on the baby donkey variety. So, that left my sister.

  “Not that we’re keeping track or anything, but you’ll do this for me, right?”

  “Hmm?” Kel picked up a package of baby-sized plastic feeding dishes and carefully studied the back.

  They even had to have their own plates, for pity’s sake. They were like a strange little alien subset of humanity.

  Perhaps I was more like Macy than I’d realized.

  “I don’t really have any friends.” I swallowed hard as my sister gave me a sidelong glance. “I have a couple back home, and Macy is kind of becoming a friend, but she’s sort of anti-baby and I don’t know anyone who’d give me a shower. The baby will need all kinds of stuff and I’m okay with going without, but I don’t really want him or her to.”

  “Oh, sweetie, of course I’ll give you a shower.” Kel dropped the package in her cart and turned to cup my cheeks. “It’s not every day my baby sister has her first baby.”