Page 164 of Love to Loathe Him

Baby Boy screws up his face, doing his best impression of a grumpy old man.

“Now he looks like Liam,” Lizzie says with a grin. “Hundred percent.”

“I think he’s working hard on something in his diaper.” I laugh.

“Winnie.” I call out to where she’s sprawled in front of the TV. “Come say hi to your new brother!”

Winnie meows but doesn’t budge an inch, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Come on, Winnie,” I urge, trying to coax her with my best mom voice. “He’s very excited to see you.”

She meows even louder, clearly telling us all to pipe down and let her watch her show in peace. On the TV, Lizzie’s voice blares through the speakers, all peppy and enthusiastic.

Lizzie has a new job on a home shopping channel, hawking all sorts of wonderful products to impulse buyers. It’s not exactly the West End debut she always dreamed of, but it pays the bills and gives her first dibs on some of the weirdest products you’ve ever seen.

“One spritz of this miraculous perfume, and you’ll have men and women falling at your feet,” Lizzie declares through the TV, holding up a gaudy bottle shaped like a mermaid. She dramatically sprays herself with the perfume, then winks at the camera. Winnie’s so engrossed, she’s almost sniffing the screen. “And for you luckyviewers at home, if you call in the next ten minutes, we’ll throw in a second bottle absolutely free.”

Winnie’s been obsessed with the shopping channel ever since Lizzie started appearing on it. She won’t even look away from the TV when Lizzie’s on, like she’s afraid she’ll miss out on the deal of a lifetime.

Liam bends down, his brow furrowing slightly as he sniffs Baby Boy’s bum.

“Yep, definitely time for a change.” He scoops our son up, cradling him with a protective strength that’s somehow both fierce and tender. Watching him slip so effortlessly into this role makes me fall for him all over again. The way he handles our tiny bundle, his broad hand supporting that delicate head, is enough to give anyone baby fever. Our son gazes up at him, a small fist clutching at his father’s shirt

He’s already committed to taking a good chunk of paternity leave, determined to be present for every moment. Even though he’s managed to convince Sir Whitmore to sell other parts of the business, so he’s super busy right now. TLS limped on and Sir Whitmore realized he couldn’t sustain it.

The image of Mr. CEO, the man who usually commands boardrooms, now mastering the art of diaper changes and dealing with spit-up on those ridiculously expensive shirts, makes me smile.

“So, any names yet?” Lizzie asks, eyebrow raised.

“How about Liam Junior?” I say with a cheeky smile. For the first time, I swear I see a tear glisten in his eye. He blinks quickly, trying to hide it.

I love these two men more than I ever thought possible. Even if one of them is currently filling his nappy and the other is bravely sniffing it.

Welcome home, Baby Boy McLaren.

THE END