Page 26 of Anatomy of Us

At forty minutes, everything stays fine. Gurgles. Toys. Peace.

He rubs his eyes. I think he’s about to fall asleep and then… he starts crying.

Shit.

No warning. Not a little whine. Real crying.

I do a quick check.

Diaper: dry.

Bottle: he smacks it away like I insulted him.

Fever: no.

“Wesley, help me out,” I mutter, nerves spiking. “Because right now I’d love an instruction manual.”

I pick him up and he cries harder. Heat climbs my neck. The last thing I need is Zoe hearing this and leaving training.

Music.

They say music calms beasts.

I fumble for my phone, open Spotify, and hit the first thing that pops up on a playlist.

Whitesnake. “Is This Love?” I press play.

Wesley goes quiet.

He stares at me with wet eyes. Total silence.

“Holy shit,” I breathe. “It works.”

I rock him slow to the beat. I feel his body soften. He opens and closes his fist on my shirt and his eyelids start to droop. Before the song ends, he’s asleep with his face smashed against my collarbone, drooling all over my T-shirt.

I barely move.

I don’t dare.

And I don’t want it to end.

When the door opens and Zoe sticks her head in, she sees us by the window: her son asleep in my arms, Whitesnake playing low.

She smiles. A beautiful smile.

She sits in my chair, props her elbows on the table, laces her fingers together, and rests her chin on them while she watches us, like she’s seeing something she didn’t expect to see.

“When you told me after Florida you’d ask if there was anything left…” Zoe says, voice thin, “are you still going to ask?”

“Yes. No doubt.”

“Even knowing how much work this little monster is?”

“Especially because of that.”

She rolls her eyes, smiles, and shakes her head a little.

“Good,” she whispers. “Because I think I already know my answer.”