“We should probably, you know, practice for our wedding night,” she says through a quiet laugh that tapers off.
I lunge for her, causing another round of squeals. I’m careful with my landing so I don’t crush her with my weight. She wiggles to the center of the bed as I swiftly brace my landing with my elbows on either side of her head and my knees propping up my lower half. She parts her legs for me, letting me slide between them. She’s completely dressed, and that just won’t do.
Just as I’m unbuttoning the top of her jeans, Robin starts wailing from Nic and Duke’s room. Her cry is so damn loud you’d think somebody was stabbing her or something. I actually used to worry that she was hurt when I’d hear her cry, because fuck if I knew what a baby’s cries are supposed to sound like. But now, after even a week, I can figure most of her noises out. She’s just hungry, or maybe she wants to be held right now. I don’t really know, but it’s getting easier to figure out that she’s not sick or something—she just makes it sound like she is.
“Crap,” Chey whispers. “We should probably just try to get some sleep. If Robin’s awake, so are Nic and Duke.”
“They’re not going—”
My bedroom door swings open. My heart spasms in surprise. In the open doorway is Duke, who is wearing only a pair of worn flannel boxers and holding a whimpering infant in his arms. His eyes are narrowed and rimmed by purple bags that appeared right around the time the little ball of chub did and haven’t gone away since. Dude looks like shit, and Nic doesn’t look much better these days.
“Woke up the baby,” he says. His expression is anything but pleased, and his voice is flat. “I should shoot you both.”
“I, uh, I’m sorry,” Cheyenne says quietly. Her eyes travel from his tired face to Robin’s small body.
Duke catches the change of focus and turns his attention back to me. A small smile forms on his lips before it’s gone and he looks at Cheyenne. His feet carry him toward us. Every foot he gets closer, I move farther away from Chey, until I’m sitting up at the other end of the bed. She scurries to sit up and pull her shirt down to cover the open top button of her jeans.
When he’s close enough, he leans forward and extends Robin out to Chey. It takes her a moment to catch on, but once she does, she carefully scoops Robin into her arms and holds her safely tucked to her chest. Duke mumbles, “You wake her, you hold her,” as he turns and leaves the room.
Cheyenne’s face is turned down toward my infant niece. She’s a cute baby as far as babies go. I mean, she doesn’t really look like a conehead anymore, and when I talk to her, she listens. Not sure her mom and dad would like the words I’m teaching her, but that’s part of what being an uncle is about—teaching the kid shit her parents won’t. Chey shushes and coos at Robin until her discontented cries become restless squawks. She turns into Chey’s chest, opening and closing her mouth in frustration.
“What is she doing?” Chey says with wide downcast eyes. Her arms are stiff, like she has no clue how to hold a baby. I’d actually be surprised if she did. As far as I know she has less experience with babies than I do. The kid’s on like day eight of life and has produced an obscene number of dirty diapers, at least half of which I’ve had the pleasure of fucking dealing with.
“She’s just hungry,” I say and glance at Robin for just a moment. “Every time she gets around tits, she tries to eat.”
“Is she bigger than the last time I saw her?” she asks. Her voice is soft, so soft in fact that I can barely hear her words over Robin’s crying. She tilts her head to the side and gives Robin a soft smile. “Sorry, kiddo, I can’t really help you out.”
“She can tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” I say and gesture for her to hand the kid over. She’s going to be pissed until she gets fed, but at least she has baby ADHD or something and can be distracted by other shit, which shuts her up for at least one single fucking minute. Chey turns toward me but doesn’t move to hand her over. She was just as fucking awkward when she held her at the hospital. When Chey’s eyes meet mine, I instantly feel like an asshole. She looks hurt, and I’m not so stupid to think it’s not because I’m an insensitive prick.
Reaching out and taking Robin into my arms, I say, “You just need more practice. Watch me.” I cradle Robin to my chest with one arm and wrap the other around her side so she doesn’t wiggle away from me. She’s not wiggling yet, but Nic’s read that she will at some point, and fuck if I’m going to drop Duke’s kid. I’m still paying for that scratch on his bike. Keeping my arms relaxed, I put a hand under her butt to do this pat-bounce thing that gets her moving a little and calms her down. She whimpers between cries, and she even cuts out the short screams.