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I nod, placing a finger to my lips, and he mirrors the gesture with a wide smile. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely a whisper but laden with sincerity. "For giving me another sister. Emily's already like a sister to me, and now Faith... I just wanted to say thanks. And... thanks for being so nice to me and my dad."
His words, simple and heartfelt, strike a chord deep within me. I open my arms for a hug, and he rushes in. The hug of a child so pure and unguarded nearly brings tears to my eyes. In his embrace, in this room, in this house, the earlier coldness that had settled in my heart begins to thaw.
"Thank you, Dylan. You're an amazing big brother, you know that?" I whisper back, my voice thick with emotions I hadn't expected to feel so powerfully.
Dylan pulls back from the hug, his youthful curiosity now fully ignited. "Can I ask you something?" he says, his gaze shifting between me and Faith's peaceful form. "How many times do babies sleep? It seems like Faith is always asleep."
I smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Babies sleep a lot, Dylan, up to 16 to 17 hours daily. But they only sleep for a few hours at a time. That's because they must eat so often, even at night."
His eyes widen in amazement. "Wow, that's a lot! Does she know when it's night or day?"
"That takes a bit of time for her to figure out," I explain, lowering myself into a chair next to the crib. "Right now, day and night don't mean much to her. But eventually, she'll adjust and sleep more at night. We hope."
Dylan inches closer to the crib, his fascination apparent. "And what about eating? How often does she do that?"
"About every two to three hours," I say, watching his reaction. "Faith needs to eat very frequently. It's a full-time job keeping her fed and happy."
He nods, thoughtfully processing this influx of information. "And when will she start talking and walking?"
"Talking might start with babbling around six months, but real words? That might take a year or so. Walking will happen sometime after she learns to sit and crawl, maybe around her first birthday. Every baby is different," I add, wanting to instill in him the beauty of individual growth.
"Do I need to be quiet all the time now? I don't want to wake her up when she finally sleeps." His concern is genuine and touching.
I chuckle, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "You don't have to walk on eggshells, Dylan. Normal household sounds are okay. It's good for her to get used to a bit of noise. It'll make her a sound sleeper. Just maybe no drum solos in the living room, okay?"
He laughs, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Okay, no drums. I got it. Can I help with anything? Like, when she cries or needs something?"
"Absolutely. Just your being here and talking to her helps her know she's loved and safe. You're already doing so much by being a fantastic big brother." I admire his eagerness to be involved, his willingness to adapt to this new family dynamic warming my heart.
"Dylan, you're going to teach her so much. And she’ll look up to you, you know. Big brothers are heroes in the eyes of little sisters." My words strike a deep chord, and he beams with pride.
"Really? I'll be her hero?" he asks, his voice a mix of excitement and awe at the responsibility.
"Really," I affirm with a nod. "And you’re already mine for being brave and caring through all these changes."
His smile could light up the darkest night as he looked back at sleeping Faith and then at me. "I have many more questions, but we have time for that, right?"
"All the time in the world," I assure him, a promise not just for him but also for myself as I commit to this new chapter of our lives.
He grins, steps back, and, with a final look at Faith, sneaks out as quietly as he enters, leaving me with my thoughts. The realization begins to crystallize in the stillness of the nursery, surrounded by the evidence of Jake's love and effort.
Despite the disagreements and my fear of losing my independence, Jake's house feels more like home than anywhere else.
It's not just the physical space but the love and family that fills it, making it more than just a house. Maybe, just maybe, this is where Emily, Faith, and I truly belong.
I ensure the baby monitor is on, gazing at Faith's peaceful form before leaving the nursery.
The soft hum of the device reassures me as I head downstairs, the weight of the evening's revelations still pressing on my shoulders. Time seems to slow. Each step is a bridge to a conversation I know we can't postpone any longer.
The glow of the television illuminates the living room, casting shadows across Jake's stern face. His expression, a remnant of our earlier discord, tightens something inside me, a mixture of regret and determination. I take a deep breath, approaching him with a hesitant yet purposeful stride.
"Jake," I start, my voice breaking the silence like a whisper against the storm. "I think we need to talk... I'm ready to sort this out, to understand each other."
He looks up, his gaze softening at the edges as he meets my eyes.
There's a moment's hesitation before he nods, turning off the TV. "You're right, Mia. But, uh, not here," he suggests, a cautious glance directed toward the backyard where laughter and distant chatter float through the open window.
"Dylan and Mia, they're out there with Joanie. We should probably have this talk upstairs. More private, you know?"
