I creep down the road, keeping my speed low, never more cautious in my life.
“You can go a little faster,” Quinn says. “She’s not going to break.”
I press the gas pedal, nervous driving with an infant in the vehicle. It takes twice as long for me to reach the mall, but at least the baby wasn’t hurt along the way. Jesus, I am so not cut out for children.
I open the back door, and Daisy’s eyes are wide open and the brightest blue I’ve ever seen. Her lip trembles when she sees me and once again she starts to wail.
I jump back, grab a fistful of hair. “She hates me, Quinn,” I say, a little unsettled at that.
Quinn removes her from her seat and whispers, “Shh,” as she rocks her. Daisy quiets down, and Quinn gives her a pacifier. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s been with her mother for four months and you’re big. She’s probably not used to big guys like you. It will just take some time.”
“Zander is big too, and she didn’t cry when he held her.”
Quinn puts her hand on my arm and gives a little squeeze. Goddammit, I should not be thinking about what her soft hand would feel like on other parts of my body. “Give it some time, okay? She’ll come around.”
I nod, and Quinn continues to hold her as we make our way inside the department store. “She’s only four months but she gets heavy after a while.”
“Want me to take her?”
“Ah, no. Let’s just go pick out a stroller first.”
“See, you know she hates me, too. That’s why you won’t hand her over. You don’t want her to cry again.”
Quinn laughs. “Stop being a big baby.”
I follow Quinn to the baby section, and we pick out furniture and all the other things on her list.
Hours later, Daisy is squirming and crying again, and I’m not even holding her.
“She’s hungry,” Quinn says, and reaches into the bag she brought with us. Christ, I never would have thought to bring food. The child would starve if I was left alone with her. “Let’s find a nursing station.”
I have no idea what a nursing station is, or where to find one, but I follow her through the store until we come to a room with numerous other moms and their children. Some of the older kids are playing as mother’s nurse their babies, some with bottles and some with their breasts.
Suddenly uncomfortable, I start to back up, but Quinn stop me.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t think I should be in here.” I lean down and put my mouth close to her ear, my words meant for her only. “Some of these women have their breasts out.”
“You do realize breasts aren’t just for a man’s pleasure, right?”
“Well…ah…” What the hell can I say? Of course women’s breasts are for a man’s pleasure? Jesus, I’m such a douche bag. But at least I know it.
She must have come to the same conclusion because she points to a chair, refusing to cut me any sort of slack, and I suppose I should be grateful. “Sit.”
“Ninja Chihuahua,” I whisper, and Quinn laughs. I do as I’m told, and Quinn places Daisy in my arms. A few of the moms look on curiously.
“Hi,” I say to the women, and pray to fuck Daisy doesn’t start screeching. She’s looking up at me with skeptical big blue eyes, that bottom lip of hers trembling again. I try to bounce her like I’d seen Quinn do, and that’s when I notice how goddamn tiny she really is.
“First child?” the woman breastfeeding beside me asks.
“Yeah.”
“How old is she?”
“Four months.”
“And you’re still not comfortable with her?”