CHAPTER TWO
AIDEN
My small flat is crammed with my family. We’ve only been back an hour and already they have a cot set up, a basket until she’s big enough to go into the cot, a changing unit, and a plastic mat that I won’t be using. Mum said it was to change her on, but looking at it, there is no way I’m putting Sunday on it. It’s plastic and cold. I’m not letting her go through that shit.
I’ll just put her on a blanket. I don’t care if she pisses or throws up on it. I know how to use the washing machine now.
I’m glad to have her home, where she belongs. The hospital wanted to keep her in for the day to monitor her and run an emergency DNA test, since I wasn’t aware of the first one being conducted. It has been a long day.
Maddox, my eldest cousin, walks over, taking a seat next to me while everyone unpacks the bags they brought.
As soon as word got out, they all went out and bought Sunday things she will need. I won’t even need to go out tomorrow, thanks to my family.
I’m lucky to have each and every one of them. We’ve always stuck together, but what they’ve done for me and my daughter tonight, accepting her without meeting her… goes above and beyond.
“So…you’ve got a daughter.”
I chuckle at his expression, watching her like he doesn’t know what to think. “I do.”
“You look natural. When your dad called, I thought for sure you would be a panicked mess.”
I shrug, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve got this. I was fine. Made of rock, me.”
Mum giggles behind me, tapping Maddox on the shoulders. “Don’t listen to him. He completely lost his shit.”
Maddox laughs, fist bumping the air. “I knew it.”
“Fuck! Here,” Liam groans, handing him a twenty.
“You bet on me?” I ask, jokingly appalled. Well, kind of. I’d have done the same if it was one of them, but it kind of rubs me the wrong way hearing they bet on me.
Maddox gives me a dry look. “Of course, I did. What kind of family would we be if we didn’t?”
A sour feeling enters my stomach. “Have you bet on me failing her?”
Mum gasps and Maddox looks taken aback. “Of course not. We might have made up a few bets, but, Aiden, you’ve got this. You have too much support to fail. Plus, we wouldn’t let you.”
“But you think I would?” I ask, feeling my eyes burn as I hold my daughter closer.
“No, we don’t,” Faith says, stepping closer with her boyfriend, Beau. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. Look at how great you’re doing already. Me? I would be losing my mind.”
I smile at my sister’s lie. She’d already know what to do. I love her for trying to make me feel better though. “Thank you. But I’m still figuring it out. It’s only been four hours.”
“Son, you are doing incredibly well. Don’t let worry and panic eat at you. If you have any concerns, we’re here.”
“I need to get going. I’ve got work in the morning,” Charlotte explains, moving towards our huddle. “Can I hold her before I go?”
My arms instantly flex. “Not right now. She’s just gone to sleep.”
Charlotte pouts. “Can I come by tomorrow after work?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“We should get going too,” Mum announces, and a little panic fills me.
“Now?” I ask.
She chuckles, running her fingers over my head. “Yes. You’re going to be fine, but I’ll leave my phone on loud, just in case.”
“Okay.”
“Wait!” Uncle Max shouts, and I glare at him when Sunday stirs.
“Seriously?” I growl.
He rolls his eyes. “She’ll get used to it, trust me. Hayden didn’t sleep unless there was noise.”
“Whatever!” I snap.
“Anyway, I want you all to take a look at baby Sunday. I want you to know this is what happens when you have sex. Hayden, this is why you can’t have sex. I’m too young and sexy to be called Granddad.”
“Oh, my God,” Hayden growls, grabbing Maddison’s arm. “Come on, let’s go before he starts drawing diagrams.”
“I’m serious. I don’t want any grandbabies.”
My mum just shakes her head at him before turning to address me. “I’ll be by tomorrow. I’ve left instructions on the kitchen side on how to make a bottle.”
I stand up, securing Sunday in my arms. “Thank you for everything, Mum. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. And thank you, guys, for all the stuff you’ve bought us. I really appreciate it.”
Mum hugs me, careful of Sunday. When she pulls back, her eyes are tearing up again, causing me to chuckle. “I love you. Take care of her.” She faces the room, clapping her hands. “Okay, people, let’s go.”
I say my goodbyes as I walk everyone out. Once they’re gone, I make my way to the kitchen, grabbing the instructions for the steriliser and for the monitor they’ve attached to the cot and basket that checks a baby’s heartrate or something.
As if having a child wasn’t scary enough, they then throw all this at you, which is enough to give me an aneurism.
A knock on the door startles me. I groan, looking down at my sleeping daughter. “Bet it’s Nanny coming for another kiss.”
Moving towards the door, I don’t bother checking the peephole. I’m surprised to find Mary, my landlady, on the threshold.
“Hey, Mary, what brings you here at this time of night?”
She stares at me with wide eyes. “Is that a baby?”
My eyes flick down to Sunday, whose face is scrunched up, her mouth in a cute, little pout with a bubble blowing out. “Yeah.”
“Who in the hell left you to care for a baby?” she says, wisps of her grey hair pulling free from her high bun in the breeze.
Not taking any offence, I gesture for her to come in. I can understand her reservations. Just last week I killed her fish that I was meant to keep fed. I felt bad, but out of sight, out of mind. I forgot all about them.
“She’s mine.”
“What do you mean, she’s yours? When on earth did you get a baby?” she asks, her voice high-pitched.
I beam. “I got her today.”
“Well, you didn’t buy her from a shop, so I ask again: where did you get her?”
I chuckle, bending down a little so the small woman can take a closer look. Mary’s face softens as she reaches out and runs a finger down her cheek. “Apparently, I knocked a girl up.” I pause, my throat closing. “She died during birth. From what the doctors were able to tell me, she knew it was a high possibility.”
She gasps, her hand going to her throat. “Oh, that poor girl. What did you call this little treasure?”
My chest swells with pride. “I’ve named her Sunday, because it was the day she was born. Between me and you, I felt a little rushed in naming her. But I really love it. It fits her. And then I used her mother’s name, Casey, as her middle name.”
She smiles. “That is a beautiful, strong name. At least you didn’t call her Gaga or Britany.”
I scrunch my face up in disgust. “Yeah, I don’t want my daughter getting picked on at school.”
She giggles. “Like anyone would put a hair out of place with you as her father.”
“Darn straight.”
“It’s late and I need to go feed my kitties. I was just worried when I saw all the cars outside. I didn’t want to intrude, so I waited for everyone to leave.”
“I’m sorry if they parked in your space again. They had to unload loads of stuff and wanted to be closer to the doors.”
She waves me off. “I’ve parked my car in the garage. I’m too old to be driving. I’d rather walk or get a taxi anyway. Before I go though, Bailey, our neighbour, came to visit when I was out. She left a note, asking if you were okay. She mentioned stinging nettles? I was going to bring it over but when I saw all the cars outside, I thought I should wait. And you know me; I’m getting old.”
I scoff. “Mary, don’t
talk daft. You’re still in your prime. If I was ten years younger, I’d totally snatch you up.”
She giggles, slapping my arm lightly. “Oh, you.”
I shrug. “Just telling the truth,” I flirt, winking.
“I’ll let you get this little one to bed. Enjoy the peace while you can.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, a little panicked.
She looks at me, then huffs, shaking her head. “Boy, babies cry. They keep you up all night. Hell, if you can pee in peace, I will give you a medal.”
A little out of my depth, I shrug, playing it off. “It will be fine.”
“Since I only just found out about Sunday, I haven’t got you anything. I’ll grab Miss Sunday something when I go into town next, but you, boy, can have three months’ rent free.”
Surprised, I can only shake my head. “You can’t do that, Mary. It’s very kind and generous of you, but it’s too much.”
She gives me a stern look, which has me stepping back. “Don’t be rude. It’s a gift, and you don’t return gifts. Unless it’s an ugly-arse jumper. Then you throw that shit away. I’ll pop in tomorrow to see if you need anything. Put me down for babysitting duty, too, please. I love babies.”
Still too stunned and a little scared of the woman, I nod. “Okay, thank you—for this and for checking in on me.”
“Always. You’re like family now. Take care of each other,” she tells me, before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her.
Alone again, I move to my sofa, keeping Sunday in my arms. Mum warned me not to hold her when she’s sleeping but I can’t put her down. It killed me to let her go when I had to put her in her car seat. I wanted to keep her in my arms, too scared that if I let go, something bad would happen.
After reading through the instructions, I’m confident enough I’ll be able to sterilise her bottles in the morning. I’m glad I had Mum today, she pretty much helped me do everything.
She’s always been my rock though; my whole family have. I’d be lost if I never had them in my life.
Sunday stirs in my arms. I look down and begin to rock her. “Hey, sleepyhead. You missed your aunts and uncles. You have a lot of them.” My cousins have even declared themselves uncles and aunties, not wanting the title of second cousin. I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re going to be a big part of her life.
She starts to cry. Feeling a little overwhelmed, I get up, rocking her back and forth as I head to the kitchen.
I grab the bottle Mum made off the side and flip the lid off, before giving my girl what she wants. She settles down instantly, guzzling her food. I chuckle, moving back to the living area to take a seat.
I go through the motions, burping her then feeding her until she finishes the bottle. I’m just getting the last of her wind up when she’s sick all down herself and my leg.
“Well, shit,” I mutter, heaving a little at the sight. Everyone in our family has a problem when it comes to sick. Seeing it, hearing it, even smelling it has our gag reflexes working overtime. I’ve lost count of the number of times one of us have watched the other be sick and then ended up throwing up ourselves.
I walk into my room, where they’ve set up her stuff, and take her over to the changing unit. She starts screaming, and panic consumes me. I want to hold her to me, but I want to get her out of her soiled clothes too.
“Come on, baby girl, calm down so Daddy can change you.”
Just saying Daddy is bizarre. I never pictured myself with kids—ever. Now I’m gifted with one and I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to never want this. This feeling of belonging, of unconditional love it’s a blessing. But the bond I share with Sunday already is something I’ve never felt before. It’s something that can’t be described, only felt and shared.
Undoing all of her little buttons, I pull her legs out of her onesie. She screams louder, her pink, skinny legs kicking up a fuss.
I scrub a hand down my face, feeling exhausted already, before pulling her arms out of the sleeves. Next is her vest, and the minute I get the buttons undone, I pause, feeling hopeless at what to do.
There is no way her head is going to fit through that tiny little hole. “Fuck!”
She screams louder.
Oh, God. I can’t do this. She’s in distress and I can’t even change her.
I pull one of her arms out, wincing at how tight the fit is and praying I don’t break it. The other is easier, so I move onto her head. I softly grab the neck, pulling it until the fabric creaks before lifting it gently over her delicate head.
Her whole body is red, along with her face as she screams down my flat. I look around for the nappies, panicking when I can’t see the package I watched Mum point out.
“Oh, God!”
I pull her into my arms, and she relaxes somewhat, her cries turning into sniffles. “Come on, let’s go find these nappies.” I walk out of my room, checking the front room and living area, but don’t see them. Ready to call my mum, I step back into my room, my eyes going to the changing unit. There they sit, on the side, piled among all the other baby stuff. I sag with relief, grabbing one, as well as a pack of water wipes.
Mum had changed her nappy at the hospital, showing me everything I needed to do. I watched on, panicked as she quickly changed Sunday, her movements not as gentle as mine. My girl didn’t like it, not one bit.
It was the first time I wanted to shout at my mum. She read my expression, though, and explained that babies never like their bum done. It’s the feel of the cold air hitting their sensitive skin that make it uncomfortable for them. The quicker you do it, the quicker it is over for them.
I lay Sunday down on the towel I asked my sister to put on here, so Sunday didn’t have to lie on the cold mat. Just as I unclasp the Velcro, she farts so loud it echoes through the quiet room. I look down at Sunday with surprise, wondering how something so loud came out of someone so tiny. I hold the nappy against her tummy, waiting.
“Oh, God, no.”
I wait a few minutes, watching my girl suck her fist. It happens again, the distinct sound of her filling her nappy.
“You couldn’t have done this before all the women in my family left?” I ask her, tilting my head to my shoulder and taking a deep breath.
A few minutes later and she’s screaming again. I lift the nappy away from her tummy and the smell hits me.
I gag, moving my head into my shoulder. My eyes burn and I gag again. It’s horrendous. How can someone so beautiful produce something so vile and foul-smelling?
“God, Sunday, that’s one messy poop,” I tell her as I lift it back again.
Once again, I gag, but this time sick rises up my throat. I turn and bend over the bin just in time to empty my stomach.
A towel catches my eye when I go to stand up straight. I wipe my mouth with it before wrapping it around my mouth and nose and facing my daughter head-on.
I’ve got this.
I can do it.
I try to be as quick as I can, but five minutes in and I realise I just don’t have the same skill my mum does. She made it look so effortless, so easy. It’s not. This shit is hard as fuck.
Hoping like hell I’ve put her nappy on correctly, I grab a new set of clothes from her new drawers. I pick out a pink Minnie Mouse set and head back over to the changing unit. I put her back down, going through the process of placing the vest over her head.
Her arms going in are a different matter. The first one goes in, but the second… it’s like I’m going to break her arm. There’s no way mums put these on their kids without doing some damage. Her arm doesn’t even bend that way.
“What were the manufacturers thinking?” I growl, stepping back a little to look it over. There has to be a way for it to fit. I watched Mum do it effortlessly. They wouldn’t make them otherwise, right?
Taking a deep breath, I go back to it, pulling the material as far as I can without ripping it and pulling her arm through.
Her little legs and arms wave around frantical
ly, so I relax, taking it as a good sign. I button her up before picking up the all-in-one. I undo all the buttons before pulling one of her arms through, smiling when I see it has gloves attached.
So, they were thinking right on something.
I lift her up, pull it around her body for her other arm to go through, when I notice it doesn’t look right. There’s an extra piece of material at the top that looks like it shouldn’t be there.
I wonder if there are any instruction manuals for this…
I grab my phone, typing into Google on how to put an all-in-one on a baby, and frown.
“Shit, this is the wrong way.”
I quickly pull her arm out, lifting the onesie up in front of me, then looking back down at my phone.
Ah, that explains it.
I pull her arm through the right one, then lift her and wrap it around her to pull the second one through, muttering, “They should make the vests this easy.”
I pull it down her body, and pull her leg through the first one, then the second.
Google saves the day.
It takes me a while to finally get the poppers connected to the right ones, but I do, and when I’m done, I’m proud of myself.
I lift her up in front of me, beaming. “See, we got this.”
Famous last words.
She projectile vomits all over my chest and herself.
Yeah, maybe I don’t have this after all.
CHAPTER THREE
AIDEN
I can’t do this. I’ve not even had my daughter in my life twenty-four hours and already I’m failing her.
Tears run down my face. I’m tired, worn out and utterly exhausted. Take me out on an all-night bender, I’m good to go. But a night in with a baby girl… nope. I’m so royally fucked.
How do women do this, then get up and carry on like the world isn’t imploding around them? They deserve fucking medals.
A knock on the door has me jumping up from the sofa, my eyes bleary with sleep. Sleep I didn’t get.
I nearly hit myself in the face when I throw open the door. My mum stands there, her mouth open and eyes wide—no doubt at my appearance—before my dad steps in front of her. He chuckles and I narrow my eyes his way, wanting to lay him out.
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