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“I don’t care who it happens to! Just tell me how to shut her up.” I bounced Gretchen in my arms. If she didn’t quiet the hell down soon, I didn’t know what I’d do.

Jaz’s voice drifted up from the phone speakers, infuriatingly calm. “Look, at this point you’re probably making her more upset. She can sense what kind of mood you’re in.”

“I was in a good mood before she started hollering her head off for no goddamn reason.”

“Be that as it may… just try talking to her in a soft, soothing voice.”

Fuck. Was that even possible? This fucking infant had frayed my nerves to the point where soothing her was the last thing I wanted to do.

And if I sounded like a jerk, well, I was past the point of giving a fuck.

“Quiet down, stupid child,” I said in a singsong tone.

“Faye… it might help if you didn’t call her stupid.”

“She is fucking stupid!” I exploded.

Jaz laughed. She actually laughed. “Do you need me to come over?”

For about a millisecond, I considered lashing out at her for implying I couldn’t do this on my own.

Then I remembered, no—I couldn’t.

“If you don’t mind,” I said wearily. “I would be so fucking thankful.”

Fifteen minutes of vociferous screams later, Jaz arrived at my door. She was in pajama pants and a well-worn T-shirt. I looked at my watch. Was it really half past midnight?

“I’m so sorry,” I told her through the piercing cries Gretchen still emitted from my arms. “I didn’t know I was pulling you out of bed.”

“Not a problem.” She suppressed a yawn. “You needed me, and I’m here for you.”

“Let’s see if you’ll cut that out for Jaz, kid.”

I handed Gretchen to her, and she gave her a quick inspection. I was oddly proud to see she didn’t immediately quiet down and that there was nothing obviously wrong with her. This wasn’t me being a clueless caretaker, it was her being a brat of a baby.

“Where’s her soother?” Jaz asked.

“She spat it out. About ten times.”

I would’ve felt even more satisfied… but I was too tired for that.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Jaz murmured, jiggling the baby in her arms. “What’s going on, huh? It’s way too early for you to be teething.”

“Oh, fuck.” I’d forgotten that was a thing. “When’s that going to happen?”

“When she’s around six months, maybe a little earlier. I hope you’re ready for a lot more sleepless nights.”

“We’ll see.” Theoretically she’d be long gone by then.

Jaz shot me an odd glance. Bringing Gretchen to the couch, she swayed her back and forth and began to sing. “Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop…”

Her voice was clear and low, and I found my own eyes closing at the sound of it. As she went on, Gretchen’s cries slowed until finally they stopped entirely.

I crept up beside Jaz and pushed the soother into Gretchen’s mouth. She latched onto it and sucked, although her tiny brow was still furrowed.

Jaz came to the end of the song and looked at me. “You’re a miracle worker,” I told her.

“I just have practice. That’s all it is.”