Page 55 of Beware the NeckRomancer
Esmeray sobbed and leaned over, hissing at a totally oblivious Ausmius’s voracious feeding session. With a gentle tug, he pulled out a paper sack with medications. I took it from him and held him a bottle with a note. “When we spoke to the doctor last, I had a feeling this would happen.”
“I don’t need antidepressants! I’m fine. I just hate—” He gestured to his chest.
“It’s not an antidepressant. It’s a prolactin suppressant. Take this as written, and you’ll stop producing milk. Auzzy got the colostrum he needed. Just slow down your pumping to only when it gets painful. Save the milk for transition, and our Wizard of Auz can have someSinilac formula.”
“But then I’ll be a bad papa!”
“No, you’ll be a tired papa that is doing what’s best for him and his baby. You think Auzzy wants you crying like this? He loves you. He loves me, too. I need to sleep less than you, so let me take this burden.”
“But you make more money than me! This is your house—”
“Our house. A downpayment is nothing compared to what you’ve sacrificed and done for us.” I took Ausmius away from him and walked over to the shelf to unpack his pumping stuff. “Get enough off to get comfortable, and I’ll go make him a bottle.”
Esmeray sobbed into his hands and reached out to me as I walked away. “No. Let him… I can finish this.”
“No. Doctor’s orders. Pump and I’ll come collect. I bought formula already. I’m telling Draevus you are calling in sick tomorrow. You’re going to sleep, and if you’re not better byTuesday, we’re going to your hellistic doctor, okay?” Ausmius stared up at me, face scrunched as if he were contemplating filthying a diaper.
“I don’t hate him… I don’t.” Esmeray broke down into racking sobs that broke my heart for him.
“Of course you don’t.”
“But this voice in my head is just filled with anger and frustration and—” Esmeray choked on his own words and something in me snapped, the alpha part of my brain activating to protect my mate and child. I cast a spell in air with a swing of my finger and flick of magic. “Dust in the Wind” and “Rock-a-bye Baby” combined into one song that had Ausmius hovering by me because Esmer needed my arms. I scooped him up and left our bedroom, carrying him downstairs while navigating our baby gates to the kitchen. Beyond that, I carried Esmeray to our den and plopped him on the couch, still sniffling. I wrapped him in a blanket, plopped the pump in his lap, plucked Auzzy from midair, and went back to the kitchen to whip up snacks as I put my phone to my ear with a few button presses.
I pulled some milk from the fridge, the dark pink of Esmer’s. I warmed it in my hand with a nursery rhyme.Some like it hot…
After, I poured it into a bottle and popped it in Auzzy’s mouth while cradling him. Next, I snagged a cup of cocoa from our fancy pod coffee system and put it on to brew while fishing out some leftover pasta from the fridge for a reheat.
He’d complain about his figure, of course, but he was beautiful no matter what he did.
When the phone picked up on the third ring, Draevus gave me a grizzled greeting. “Good…morning’s balls! Gre, what’s wrong?”
“Well, it hit Esmeray, finally. I think he could use his father.” I smiled as Draevus gave a hum of approval and hung up.
By the time I got the food and drink to Esmeray, Draevus came strolling in with open arms and a coo of sympathy for his boy.
“I’m a failure!” He wept, and we assured him he wasn’t. We could weather the storm together, but Esmeray had talents elsewhere.
And like Ausmius, falling asleep on his bottle, sometimes, a person needed their father.
And as I put Ausmius in his cradle, keeping an ear out for Draevus and my mate, the crying stopped and the spiral ended.
We wouldn’t have another child anytime soon, if at all. If he even wanted to, that is. I loved him and our little one more than anything else.
Esmeray was a good papa. And one day soon, those tears would stop and turn to tears of joy.
There were a thousand firsts to come. First steps, first food, first blood drawn in battle—I jest. But the first hurdle of parenthood wasn’t the birth or the recuperation.
It was admitting you needed help.
