“Of course not. Scratch it off the list, I guess.” I fingered the hem of the gown. “I am sort of leaning toward Phoenix.”
“I could live with that. She rises from her own ashes.”
“She’ll make a lot of mistakes, but do something magical and wonderful from what she learned.”
“Sounds like our girl.” He leaned his head against mine.
We sat that way a while, content, the apartment quiet. Everything seemed okay for now. “Phoenix Hannah McKenzie,” I said.
“I like it.”
“I’ll fill out the paperwork tomorrow,” I told him. “Get the pencil-pushers off my back.”
He slid me down on the sofa. “How are your girl parts feeling?” His body lay next to mine, hard and muscled.
“Don’t even think about it, Buster. Two-week minimum. Did you not see what came out of there? Her head was like a squished cantaloupe!”
Chance choked on a laugh. “Point taken.”
I pulled on his shirt. “You can kiss the hell out of me, though.”
“That I can do.” His lips met mine, soft and firm.
I let out a slow sigh as he kissed me long and lingeringly. I felt little pinpricks of interest heading down below, but it was more like a car firing on bad cylinders than anything sexy.
Chance pulled my head against his chest. “Our time will come around again,” he said. “Then we can make another one.”
I punched his arm. “Don’t even talk about it. I’m buying you twenty cases of condoms.”
His eyes glittered as he looked at me. “She’s beautiful, though,” he said. “Like you.”
“It’ll be a good life,” I told him.
“It already is.”
~*′`*~
I tearfully waved good-bye to Dad the next morning. Mom had taken off for whatever work was dragging her away from her granddaughter.
I held the baby in the crook of my arm. My shoulder was already killing me. How could something so small feel so heavy?
When Chance closed the door, I asked him if he’d finished the swing.
“Almost,” he said. “Give me a half hour.”
I didn’t want him to leave the room, but I needed that swing. If the baby started fussing, there were only so many boob jobs that would quiet her down.
“Try to hurry,” I told him. Mom had said nothing was better for soothing me when I was little than to be rocked in a swing.
Chance took off for the nursery. I plunked down in the pink glider. The perfect blanket burrito my mother had tied around Phoenix was starting to loosen. I laid her in my lap and tried to fix the ends.
But with a couple tugs, the whole elaborate system of tucks and turns fell open.
Phoenix looked up at me with her slate-blue-gray eyes. She was quiet and alert, her gaze as wise as a baby Buddha.
“I’ll just try this again,” I told her. “How hard can it be?”
I straightened the small blanket. I crossed one corner over her belly, then the other. But what about the top ones? I tried bringing them down over her shoulders, but this just made a big pile on top.
I put them all back in place and brought the top corners down first this time. Okay, so maybe the bottom ones had to go around the back. I tried turning Phoenix on her side, but she didn’t like that and started to cry.
“No no no,” I said, picking her up. Her head bobbled a little and her cries got more intense.
Crap! I put my hand behind her neck and lifted her to my shoulder. She quieted, and I sighed relief. She had on a long-sleeved onesie. She would be fine without the burrito blanket.
I felt a warm wetness on my neck and hair. I pulled the baby away.
Gawd, she’d spit up everywhere. It was in my hair and all over my shoulder. A trickle ran down my back.
I set her back in my lap, but she immediately started crying again. I didn’t have enough hands to manage her and the mess.
“Chance!” I called out.
He didn’t come right away. I picked Phoenix up again and put her on my other shoulder. I could feel spit-up running all down my skin and my gown sticking to my back.
“Chance!” I called again, a little louder.
The noise must have upset the baby, because she started crying even though I already had her up in her favorite position. “Shhh, Phoenix,” I said.
This made her cry harder.
I felt hot and sick, sticky and panicked. I fumbled with the slits in the gown, trying to get a boob out to feed her, even though she had just eaten. When I moved her there, though, she turned her head. Her face bloomed red and her cries turned to jagged sobs.
“Chance!” I called out again.
He skidded into the room. “Sorry. Oh, what is that smell?”
“She spit up.”
“You sure that’s all?” His face contorted.
Now that he mentioned it, I could smell something more. I pressed my hand on the baby’s bottom and immediately felt wet. Squishy wet. Phoenix managed to wail even louder, a direct shot to the ear.
“Coming out both ends, I see,” Chance said with a chuckle.