Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
No one taught me not to wake a sleeping baby, so I pick her up and carry her over to the rocker. On the table, next to the chair, is a stack of books. The first one being A Visit from St. Nicholas.
“Did you know your auntie Elle was going to have two babies?”
Juniper doesn’t answer me, but for all I know babies have some weird in the womb sonar and little Miss Junie already knew she was getting two cousins.
“From this point forward, it’s you and me kid. We’re the odd ones out. Your brothers have each other. Your cousins will have each other. I know what it’s like to grow up with twins and feeling left out. That’s not going to be you. I won’t ever let you feel like you’re on the outside.”
I position her on my chest and sigh at the warmth she gives me. Holding her, it makes me want my own or at least be with someone who wants to share their life with me without reservation. It really sucks to feel like I’ve wasted years with Nola, that I may have missed an opportunity at finding my forever.
I crack the book open and start reading to her, figuring if I fail at being a rocker, I’ll become an audiobook narrator. The story’s short and knowing my sister, she’s probably read it to her daughter a million times already. I close the book and my eyes, taking in this quiet time.
“Do you want me to take her?” Peyton’s voice whispers in the quiet.
“I’m good. We’re just chilling.”
“She’ll be up to eat soon.”
“I’ll come get you when she starts fussing. If you don’t mind. I’m going to stay in here with her.”
“I don’t mind,” she says. “Is everything okay?”
I let her question sink in and ask myself if everything’s okay. And it is.
I nod.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Quinn.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Peyton.”
She pulls Juniper’s door, leaving it cracked open. My niece and I continue to rock back and forth. I can easily see why this is the preferred method of falling asleep. It’s fucking soothing and they need to make adult beds that do this shit. I’d probably sleep for days.
“It’s the holidays,” I tell the peanut resting on my chest. “In the morning, I’m going to go buy you and your brothers some gift that you won’t ever remember, but I will because it’ll be the first thing I ever give to you, and then I’m going to come back here because I’d rather be with you, Maverick and Jace, then sleeping in my old room. You don’t know this yet, but you’re a comfort for me, Juniper.”
One of the boys let’s out an ear-piercing scream and Juniper whimpers. “Oh no, your brother must be hungry, which means you’ll probably want to eat as well. Your mama did say you were going to be hungry soon. Do you think she’ll let me feed you?”
I hear Peyton in the other room, moving quietly and soothing whichever boy is crying. It doesn’t take long for the other one to let his desires be heard. Noah comes in and starts talking. Listening to these two manage parenthood puts a smile on my face.
The bathroom door moves slightly and Stevie Nicks slinks into the room. She eyes me momentarily and I wonder if she’s going to bark and wake Juniper up. I drop my hand for her to sniff, she does, and the lets out the most dramatic sigh I’ve ever heard.
“I hear ya. I’m sure you don’t much sleep with the babies around.” Stevie Nicks lays next to the rocker and watches me for a bit until she puts her head down. I do the same, soaking in as much as I can before Juniper’s mean mama comes to take her from me.
“Quinn.”
My hand tightens around Juniper as her mother tries to take her from me.
“Go away,” I mumble while keeping my eyes closed.
“She has to eat.”
“She’s not crying.”
“I know but I need her on the same schedule as the boys.” Peyton slips her hand between my chest and her daughters, my grip tightens.
“Can I feed her?”
Peyton pauses. “Do you want to?”
I nod. “I want to help while I can.”
“All right. I’ll go get her a bottle.” Peyton leaves the room just as Noah walks in.
“We didn’t get to talk much when you were here last,” he says as he sits on the floor next to Stevie Nicks. “How are things going?”
“Everyone asks me that,” I tell him. “Is there something written on my forehead that says I’m struggling?”
Noah shakes his head. “But as your friend—an astute one—I might add, I notice things.”
“Such as?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Such as, my wife gave birth a month ago and Nola hasn’t texted her. Your sister expected you to tell your fiancé that the babies arrived, and when Peyton didn’t hear from Nola after a few days, she felt like it would be awkward to send a ‘hey the babies are here’ text.”