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For the love of fucking God, let this work, I pray silently.
I hold my breath—and so does Daphne—but as one second passes and then another without Taty dissolving into tears, the knot of tension in my chest dissipates.
“See?” I lean back and regard the two of them carefully. “You grew her inside of you for almost a year. She can feel you. She knows when you’re in pain. She’s not scared of you, moya plamya; she’s scared for you.”
Daphne strokes Taty’s chubby cheeks with her thumbs. Slow, soft caresses that make our baby’s eyes gradually blink slower and slower.
“No matter what you do, you’re an amazing mother.” I touch the curve of her neck and breathe her in. “Don’t ever tell yourself otherwise. You are the best partner I could ever ask for. That I could ever dream of, honestly, and I wasn’t even looking.”
“Why?”
This is not supposed to be about me. But it feels like a good time to give her a little show of trust in the same way I’m asking her to trust me.
“Because I didn’t think I deserved someone like you. I still don’t.”
Daphne tries to conceal her eye roll, but I still see it. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah? So is you thinking you’re a terrible mother. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
She sits, silent for a moment while she coaxes our baby to sleep, then lets out another heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. They make it look so easy in the movies and the books, and I just… I’ve been nothing but a roller coaster of hormones, and I’m crying all the time, and you’ve got better things to do?—”
I cut her off with a kiss. I meant it to be quick, chaste, and silencing, but that changes the moment I taste her lips. It feels like forever since I’ve last held her in my arms and kissed her like this.
So I let myself linger. Savor, really, in a way I’ve badly needed for so long now.
When I finally pull away, we’re both breathless.
I don’t say anything more. Neither does she. I help her set Taty back down on the bed, then pull the covers back and nudge her under them for some much-needed sleep. Daphne doesn’t fight it; I can see her sink into the softness of her pillows and blankets like she’s been needing this all along.
With a kiss to her face, I get up and take Taty with me. She’s fully asleep now and won’t be fussing for at least another hour. If I take her out of the room for a while?—
“No! Don’t!” Daphne sits up, reaching for our baby in a panic. “She can’t leave.”
I sigh. Part of me wants to tell her that everything will be perfectly fine. But the rest of me knows that we’re in a land far beyond logic here. So I change course and sink into bed alongside Daphne, with Taty nestled in my arms.
“We’ll stay right here,” I promise her. “Go to sleep. We need the best of you, Daphne. Both Taty and I do.”
It takes some time, but eventually, Daphne falls asleep.
When I’m sure she’s out, I slip free of the covers and bring Taty with me to my office, leaving the door cracked so I can hear if Daphne stirs.
I have plenty of calls I could make—household staff, the wedding coordinator, various vors and business contacts who need checking-up-on—but something else takes priority. I send Melanie a quick text to let her know I’m sending a helicopter to pick her up. Right now.
Five seconds later, my phone rings.
“You gotta be out of your goddamned mind.” Jameson’s voice growls through the earpiece. “There’s no way Melanie is getting on some random helicopter by herself just because you said so.”
I sigh. I get it; I do. But I don’t have time for this. “Daphne’s not doing well.” I figure cutting to the chase is best here. No preamble, just hard facts. “I’m doing what I can, but it’s getting to a point where she either has what’s left of her family here with her, or we call a psychiatrist.”
Something fumbles with his phone. And then I hear the voice Daphne needs to hear.
“Psychiatrist?” Mel balks. “What’s going on? When do you need me there?”
“Mel!”
“Shut up, Jame. This is my sister we’re talking about. Of course I’m going.”
Silence.
