“She’s nursing, M, you gotta go.”
My face sours, in the way only Christine can cause. “Christine, I’m covered. It’s fine. You both can come in. It’s no big deal,” Holland claims.
As Holland disagrees with her, Christine twists her body around, closing the space between the two of them. “Holland, honey, this is very inappropriate. What if he sees something?”
I want to come to her rescue, but I pause. Holland’s gaze focuses on Christine. “Listen, nursing my baby is as natural as breathing. And anyway, it’s just a boob. It’s not like he’s never seen one before.”
I’m trying to hold onto my laughter. This is my girl. Team Holland’s score is 1. Team Christine is at -10.
“Knock, knock.” Christine’s annoying, overbearing voice fills my apartment at nine in the morning. I’ve only just gotten to bed and she’s letting herself into my home. I can only get Scotland to sleep in her swing Jase bought for me.
“Sshhh,” I attempt to whisper. Christine has high heels on and they click-clack on the floor. “We’ve been up all night long. I finally just got her to sleep.”
Christine focuses her sight on Scotland, who’s snoozing like a champ finally. She crosses her arms, staring at my daughter in her swing. “Oh, this will not do, you can’t let her sleep in her swing, how on earth will you get her on a schedule?”
Christine walks over to the swing, her hands about to turn off the back and forth motion.
“I will break your fingers if you stop her swing, Christine.” I could blame it on the lack of sleep or the emotions of postpartum, but I think all of this only gives me an excuse to finally say what I’ve wanted to voice after all these years.
“Why, that’s no way…”
“No, you listen to me. I’m tired, cranky, and doing this by myself. I’d love your help as long as you understand, Scotland is my baby. I call the shots. You want to hold her after she’s slept that’s fine. And as far as a schedule goes, she’s four days old. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep. We’ll be up soon, and I’ll go find you at Maguire’s.”
She walks away, the click-clacking of her stupid heels only louder. I close my eyes and sleep the best three hours since before Scotland’s birth. Is it because I’m overtired or that I finally told my mother-in-law off? I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
For three days, Christine has asked me how she can help. “May I take the baby for a walk? Would you like me to hold the baby while you nap? Could I help with laundry? Would you like me to cook a couple of meals I can freeze for you?” Now that I’ve set the record straight, I’m willing to let her bond with her granddaughter. Although the woman drives me bat crap crazy to the point of lunacy, she’s a natural with Scotland.
We say our goodbyes, Elise and Ned volunteering to drive Christine to the airport. Scotland and I are outside waving when Maguire appears from his workshop. “I wasn’t sure how this visit would go down, darlin’, but you held your own and I think that old bat has come to respect you.”
“The old bat. Do you think we can train Scotland to call her that instead of Grammy?”
A grin covers his face. “Shit, you just made my day with that little vision now in my mind.” Like that, we settle back into our routine of the Holland/Maguire dynamic I’ve come to covet.
Chapter 31
I sometimes wonder if this baby even likes me. There are days she cries all the time. I can’t seem to make her happy. And breastfeeding, I’ve come to find out isn’t as easy as those lactation specialists insist, not for me anyway.
I walk around with Scotland all day long in the Baby Björn. When I sit down to rest my legs, she starts to fuss. Sometimes, I take her on rides in the car if I can’t get her to calm down. I’ve shown up at Elise’s house many times, asking her to walk around with her because sleep has not come to me in days.
Maguire comes over at seven. It’s when Scotland really is raring up. If I thought she liked being held in the day, she demands it at night. He somehow can sit down with her and she lets him. But with me, the mother who has given her life, all she does is cry and spit up. Oh, and no matter what diaper I buy, she blows out of them.
She’s six weeks old. It’s the extent of my paid maternity leave, but I’ve extended my leave for at least six more weeks. There’s no way I can begin work again when I’m not sleeping.
I still talk to Jase almost every day. But I’ve not seen him since Maguire had his bitch attack. The last time I spoke to him, he’d hinted around to surprising me soon.
I’m on my second mile, outside, walking back from the lake when I round Maguire’s house to see Jase, leaning up against his BMW in his aviators. Oh, he looks sexy as sin. The second he spots me, he cuts the distance between us. I’m seeing something I don’t get to look forward to much anymore when he gets close—adult interaction.
He must see it on my face. “Gorgeous, you look exhausted.”
“I am. I’m so tired. If you take her, I could curl up on the gravel and fall asleep.”
Putting his arm around me, he pulls me in tight. “We can do better than that. Let’s get you into the house, give me the 411 on this little angel. Doctor’s orders—you must take a nap.”
“I won’t even pretend I want to argue with you.”
w
I turn to the alarm clock next to my bed. It’s four p.m. I’ve been asleep for five hours. I don’t hear a peep from the living room at all. But, hell, my boobs hurt so bad, I must find my baby and feed her. I’m up and out in the living room in a split second. I miss my angry baby. It’s me and her against the world. Even with as much sleep I’m deprived of, my girl is my everything.
From the hallway, I turn into the living room and come face-to-face with a surprise. Maguire is on the couch, Scotland is lying on her own stomach, on his stomach. His head pops up when he hears movement. “Did you kill Jase?” I tease.
He smirks. “Jase’s mom called. She locked herself out of the house. When he saw I was home, he asked me if I could take over for him. And quite honestly, I thought the kid was in over his head at first. As much as I hate to admit it, he did a good job with Scottie.” His voice is low, but he’s not whispering. How in the world is she sleeping so peacefully?
I sit down near him in the rocking chair when the tears won’t stop streaming. He adjusts, sitting up, and Scotland stays asleep as he moves her to his arms, cradling her. “Holland, what’s wrong?”
“She hates me, it’s official, my daughter hates me.”
“No, darlin’, it’s not that—she can sense your stress. But your little girl is going to worship the ground you walk on, I assure you.”
“You think?” I ask, and he nods. “Why?”
“Because I worship the ground you walk on.”
I’ve accepted Holland will never be mine. No matter how much I want or dream of her. It’s going to happen sooner than I may have expected. I know she’s still not ready to move on. But the Elton boy has fallen for her and hard. And he’s present—even though I still don’t like it, not one bit.
After Jase brought Scotland over, the day he had to go help his mom, I’ve been more present daily, making sure Holland is getting some sleep before Scottie is up all night. Sometimes, I stare at her, watching the way she effortlessly loves her kid, with all she has.
I’ve heard her some nights when I’m over at the house as she cries herself to sleep. I’m not sure if it’s for the father Scott will never be or for the dad Scotland will never know. Or maybe, like me, she mourns for the love her and I can never share.
It’s eleven p.m. about two weeks after I’ve been coming over, taking Scottie for her to sleep. She approaches us quickly—a woman on a mission, with her arms in front of her breasts. I’ve been around her enough to know she has to feed the baby in this stance. I hand over my little darlin’ and turn my head to give her time to get Scottie latched on properly.
“I’m decent, Maguire,” she croons, and I turn my
head.
“Hey, I’ve meant to ask you. If Scotland was a boy, what name had Scott and you picked out?”
She smiles a broad grin stretching over her face. “Scott wanted to name our boy Maguire after you.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. I don’t think I breathe. My eyes water and I’m speechless. I finally croak out, “Why? Why would he want to do that?”
“Hell, Maguire, if you don’t know by now—your son loved you with all he had. I’ve told you Scott turned out to be the best man I knew because of you. And he wanted to honor you. We were going to call him M.J. for short.”
I close my eyes, finally accepting I was the father to Scott I’d always wanted to be. Holland might not know this, but she’s given me the second-best gift with her words. I’ve finally forgiven myself for not moving to Virginia. And I’m at peace with the father I was able to be to my son.
Chapter 32
It’s a faint sound wafting through my open windows. I can’t make it out, but it’s enough to instinctively bring my feet out of bed as they crash to the floor. I sling on my track pants quickly and a long-sleeved shirt. It may be May in California, but it’s still chilly at night. On my deck, I take in the noise as it calls me to the garage. Making my way upstairs to her apartment, there’s no denying the screams I’d heard from my own house. They are more prevalent now. I knock, but there’s no way in hell Holland can hear me. Reaching above the doorframe, I find the spare key. Helping myself into her apartment, Holland’s in the rocking chair I made for her living space.
“Darlin’?” I ask.
She doesn’t flinch as if she senses my presence. Her eyes are full of tears as she holds the baby close to her body. Scotland is screaming so loud I can’t hear myself think. She’s not been the easiest newborn for Holland, but this time is different.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She won’t stop crying. I thought we were moving from this phase. I’ve fed her, I’ve burped her, I’ve changed her.” Holland is almost screaming for me to hear her over my sweet but deeply upset granddaughter. At eight weeks, Scottie is still not sleeping well. But the stubborn woman refuses to ask for help.
With three long strides, I close the distance between us. I hold out my hands, and she hesitates. “Let me take her,” I offer.
“But I’m her mother. I should be able to comfort her.” Her tears don’t stop.
“And you’re doing it by yourself. You don’t need to do it by yourself, let me help you.”
She reluctantly hands little Scottie to me. Cradling her in my arms, I walk around the small living room.
“You’re already over here too much. You do too much for us.”
I’m looking down and I’m instantly forced back in time as if I’m looking at my son twenty-two years earlier. I hear Holland, but I don’t say anything to her, just Scotland. “Here, here, little darlin’, I got you.” I jostle her, just enough, strolling through the living room. Though her cries don’t stop, they lessen. When I get her settled down, I take her and lay her on her back, bringing her knees up to her stomach, rubbing her small little belly.
I look up for a brief moment, Holland’s tears still flowing down her face. “See, she hates me. You have her for five minutes, and she calms at your touch.”
“Believe me, that’s not the issue. You’re exhausted. And I’ve done this before. Scott had colic. I’m sure it’s the reason my girl is so fussy.”
She’s in my space in a matter of seconds, reaching for my baby. “Okay, now that I know, I’ve got it.” She’s practically sleeping on her feet.
“Oh, no, Holland Marie Parrish. Me and my little darlin’ are heading back to my house. I still have her bassinet. I’ll take a bottle and the diaper bag. You, my dear, are marching your butt back to bed. I’m on duty tonight. Not you.”
“But, I’m still on maternity leave. You have to work tomorrow.”
“Um, it’s one of the perks of owning the company. So, there’s that.” I have Scotland in my arms and we’re out of the door before she can argue.
I roll over and jump out of bed the second the clock near me comes into view. “Holy Shitake mushrooms!” I scream. I run into the bathroom, brushing my teeth quickly, rushing down the stairs and from the garage over the gravel driveway until I make it to the main house. Before I open the sliding door, I still at the sight in front of me. On the couch, Maguire is asleep with the baby on top of him. My heart tightens. For the first time after admitting to myself I have serious feelings for this man, I allow myself to see him as his own person and not an extension of Scott.
Carefully, I slide the door open as Scotland’s little body starts to waken. I continue to stare at them both, a stunningly beautiful combination between these two, who encompass the most important people on this earth to me. With Scotland’s wrestling body, Maguire starts to stir. The second his eyes open, they lock in on me.
“Morning.” He yawns wide, pulling the wiggling baby to his body, grabbing her to sit up. He lifts her toward his face. “Morning, little darlin’,” he begins. She makes this little gurgle sound, and I swear a small smile peeks out from behind her lips. “See, everyone’s happy when they get a good night’s sleep.” He turns to me while I make my way around the front of the couch, sitting in the chair. “You doing better?”
“Yeah, I slept for seven straight hours. I can’t believe it’s almost ten in the morning,” I begin, looking at his clock. “I feel like a brand-new woman.” Reaching my arms out to take Scotland, I grab a blanket and settle in to feed her. It’s funny, with Maguire, he’s respectful when I nurse. Where most men would leave the area the entire time, he looks away for a brief moment and when the baby is latched on, I start a conversation with him.
When Scotland begins nursing, I ask, “So, what did you both do last night?”
“Well,” he starts and points to the bassinet near the chair. “Scottie slept for a couple hours in her bassinet, letting her gramps catch a few z’s, too. She woke up, took her bottle like a champ, and you should have heard the loud and long burp she let out. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you.”
I laugh because my girl can belch with the best of them.
I pull back the blanket, just long enough to see her almost black hair, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks for taking her for the night, Sarge, I didn’t realize how much I needed a break.”
He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Can you promise me something, darlin’?”
Cocking my head to the side, I cautiously answer. “Um, I’ll try.”
“I need you to call me the next time it gets this bad. You were on the brink of losing it last night. I’m here. I know you want to do it by yourself, but you don’t need to.”
I look away. I can’t say it. But, leave it to Maguire to tackle it. Scotland unlatches herself and the second I lift her up to burp her, she lets out another loud belch. “Wow, look at you go.” I stand and place her in the bassinet.
I still haven’t replied to him.
“Darlin’, what is it?” His elbows are still on his knees.
“It’s hard, Maguire.” It’s all I say.
“You mean to ask for my help?” he clarifies.
I massage my temples. My eyes are closed. I can’t look at him when I say this. “No, it’s hard to be around you.”
My eyes remain shut. I’ve never verbally acknowledged this in the past. I never could verbally say it out loud.
I open them only to have his eyes so close to mine, if I were to blink, my lashes would touch his.
“We both know what is between us—you know it, right?” I say.
His lips are mere centimeters from mine, his breath is hot on my skin, and he begins with merely a whisper, “Know what? That every time you enter a room, I can breathe again? Or that your simple smile makes the demons of my loss easier to take? I’m broken inside when I’m not near you. Maybe it’s the second I can use any excuse to touch you, my whole entire bo
dy comes alive. Or is it, maybe just maybe I can’t get you out of my mind ever?”
His hand touches my cheek and when I push the chair back so fast, I’m almost knocked over.
But he’s not done when he continues, “So, if it’s any of those things I’ve listed, I know. I know as the sky is blue and the mountains are high, my need for you is so intense, I can barely contain myself.”
I can’t breathe. I’m left speechless and I’m so lost at his proclamation, I fixate on his intense gaze.
“Holland?” His one-word question brings me back to reality, where he’s my father-in-law and not the man I’ve fallen in love with.
“What do you want me to say in return, Maguire? That I question my own desires daily, of what it would be like to be with you? If I truly am falling for you because of you or is it because I miss Scott so much? That when I watch you with Scotland, I can see a future and a family I was cheated out of a year ago? That I question if it’s you I love or the memory of Scott? Or that I dream about what it would be like for you to make love to me?”
He leans back, both hands on his head. “Of course, you’d feel guilty—it’s all questions I ask myself. I sometimes think Scott will return just to kick my ass. But the heart doesn’t choose who it loves.”
“And are you telling me, you want to pursue this, pursue us? Be with your son’s wife? Because as much as I’ve tried to justify it six ways to Sunday, I can’t.”
I’m on my feet, scooping my little girl into my arms—making my way to the apartment before Maguire can respond to this question because I’m not sure, either way he answers it, if I can handle the truth.
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