Which was often.
He was crankier than usual, and I felt awful for Daniel, my temporary replacement. I pictured him marking off the days he had left on his sentence with a sharpened shiv on the underside of his desk like a prisoner.
Since Joey was happily occupied with the light-up play mat Davida had gifted her, I replied to Elliot’s email. Hopefully once he had his answer, he’d leave poor Daniel alone.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Elliot,
Hi, how are you?
If you mean Sinclair Davis, please let Daniel know he can find Sinclair’s contact information in the Davis subfolder within the surveyor folder. It’s also in your contact folder under Sinclair Davis. Check the Ds.
I hope my reply was soon enough for your liking.
Sincerely,
Catherine
P.S. You are the human equivalent of spilling a bag of freshly pumped milk.
I carefully deleted the postscript before sending it, but stamping out those words had made me feel marginally better. Even if Elliot wouldn’t have understood them had I sent them, I did, and they pulled a smile from me.
Nothing was solved, but as always, taking out my frustration on Elliot provided me with desperately needed relief.
Of course, that relief didn’t last long. He replied almost as quickly as I’d sent my email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Catherine,
Thank you. I’ve found it.
So you’re aware, I’m seconds away from firing Daniel. He shakes when I speak to him. It’s untenable. I need an assistant, not a leaf.
You’ve never shaken in my presence. Not once.
Aren’t you bored at home? What could you possibly be doing for all these weeks?
I would like you to come back as soon as possible. I don’t think Daniel’s going to make it much longer. He’s currently vibrating at his desk, and from what I understand, the human body cannot sustain constant vibration. He will eventually crumble. Do you want that on your conscience?
Think about it.
Yours,
Elliot
Laughing at how utterly unhinged his email was, I scooped Joey off her mat and nuzzled my nose against the side of her head. She smelled like baby shampoo and pure, fresh lovebug. I had never pictured myself as a mother or felt any kind of longing when I saw a random baby in public. Motherhood had been an abstract concept that had nothing to do with me.
But this girl, my girl, had drawn me in from her first breath.
Something inside me had recognized her immediately. Oh, it’s you. Of course it is.
She really was the sweetest thing. Even on her bad nights, she wasn’t bad. Two weeks ago, she’d started smiling at me and basically hadn’t stopped. It had made it impossible to feel resentful when she woke me up forty-five minutes after I’d put her down.
Deliriously tired but never resentful. Not when my sweet girl smiled up at me from her bassinet the second I came into her eyeline.
We sat on my bed, and I lowered my tank. Joey immediately latched on to me, like I’d been starving her for days. In reality, she’d eaten an hour ago. I was pretty sure she was going through a growth spurt. That was what my Googling had told me about her sudden need to nurse around the clock.
Since Joey had been born, there’d been a hundred times I’d wished I could have called my mother to ask questions or be reassured I was doing the right thing. But I couldn’t open that door. If I did, there might not have been any closing it—not when my parents found out they had a granddaughter.
Chapter Eleven
Catherine
I pushed my stroller through the door of the coffee shop down the block from my house. When Raymond spotted me, he rushed toward me with his arms out. I knew better than to expect a hug. He wasn’t coming for me.
Raymond, the man who’d called childbirth icky and babies smelly, scooped Joey out of the stroller and nestled her in his arms.
“Hello, Precious Angel McChunk-Cheeks.” He ran his nose along her cheek. “Come with Daddy Raymond to pick out a donut. Sadly, you can’t have one. I’m going to take one for the team and eat it for you.”
“Hi, Ray,” I said flatly.
He flashed me a slightly sheepish grin. “Hey, Kit. Don’t mind me and Joey. We’re having a private conversation.”
Davida waved at me from a table in the corner. I pointed to the counter. I needed coffee before I could socialize. Last night had been another all-nighter. Somehow, Joey was all bright-eyed and cheerful, but I was seriously dragging.
Caffeine in hand, I fell into the empty chair beside Davida. Raymond and Joey were still wandering the coffee shop, giving me a minute to breathe, which was so fucking nice.
“You look worn out, darling,” Davida drawled.
“That’s because I am.” I sipped my iced coffee, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head. I had no business splurging on designer coffee, but sometimes being irresponsible was the necessary decision. “Thank you for saying so.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times I’ll come stay at yours to help you at night.” Davida rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother saying no. I’m tired of hearing it.”
“You know I appreciate it.”
“But you’re pathologically incapable of accepting help,” she supplied.
That wasn’t it. The thought of having someone to tag team with at night sounded euphoric. But that meant allowing her to come into the wreckage I lived in. If she saw how dismal the condition of my house was, she’d want to help with that too, and I just couldn’t let her step in that way.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was pathologically incapable of accepting help, but in my experience, help always came with strings. Not that I didn’t trust Davida. I truly did, especially after she’d been by my side for every second of Joey’s birth, but I couldn’t let go of my wariness and the little pride I had left.
I might get there, but I wasn’t to that point yet.
She patted my hand. “Have you heard from Liam yet?”
I scoffed. “No, and I don’t expect to. He only goes where the fun is. Once the excitement wore off, being a dad wasn’t exciting to him.”
“That twat. I hope he contracts syphilis and his dick falls off.”
“There’s modern medicine to prevent that kind of thing now.”
She shrugged. “This is my dream, and we don’t have any medicine that will work on twats.”
“Fair enough.” I drank my coffee around my grin. “He’s probably using his dick enough that syphilis isn’t outside the realm of possibilities.”
She arched a brow, eyeing me carefully. “Does that bother you? Knowing what he’s doing on the other side of the world?”