Page 6 of The Cowboy and the Baby

That felt good.

Really good.

Now, I had to wrench the ranch free from Cade’s capable hands, which was an awful thing to do after he’d been so kind to me and Lily. Yet, I would still take everything from him.

Because Lily trumped all.

Panic slipped through me when the plane charged down the runway. I’d been so wrapped up in Cade’s kind eyes and the unbelievable reality of us being thrown together in this way that I’d forgotten to pay attention to Lily. All the articles I read online warned me to have Lily drink her bottle or suck on her pacifier when the elevation changed, to avoid her screaming her head off from an earache.

My ready anxiety tripled.

Calm down, Noelle. It’s just a bottle.

The last thing I wanted to deal with was a wild, disgruntled newborn while locked on a multi-hour plane ride. Once upon a time, I hadn’t been so tightly wound. I didn’t fear plane lift off, or crowds, or question when my last full meal was. Anxiety didn’t used to be my closest comrade.

But then, I hadn’t realized just how forgiving, easy, and controlled my life had been.

I fumbled for Lily’s bottle, grateful it was still warm. I knocked the cap off, accidentally squirted Lily in the eye, and sucked in an irritated breath through my nose. Lily cried out as Cade fished around for the lid on the floor while the airplane’s front wheels rose.

Positioning Lily higher in my arms, I brought the nipple to her mouth just as inertia slammed my spine into the seat. Thankfully, Lily took the nipple and began to eat. While she happily slurped away, I tilted my head back, breathed out, “Thank God for tiny miracles,” and closed my eyes.

One hurdle down.

Five thousand more to go.

When the plane evened out and the engines calmed, Lily fell asleep. The bottle rolled off her droopy bottom lip, and milk dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

I removed the nipple, then searched for somewhere to put it without stirring her awake. Maybe I could hold it between my knees until I could lean forward enough? She’d only eaten half, and might be persuaded into a longer nap by finishing the rest later.

Cade put out a hand with the bottle cap in his palm. “Here you go. I’ll tuck the bottle in the pocket, if you like.”

Relieved again for another solution, I handed it over.

“Thanks.”

He replaced the lid and slipped the bottle into the seat back ahead of me. Tightening the blanket around Lily, and moving very slowly, I lifted her to my shoulder, positioned her head to the side, and patted gently along her spine.

Noelle, you’ve got this. You kept her alive for four weeks straight now. This is fine. She’s alive, so are you. One minute at a time. One hurdle after another.

The mantra soothed me, and so did narrowing my focus off of the future and onto this minute. Sometimes, I could only focus on the individual seconds, not even minutes, ahead. Otherwise, it all became too overwhelming.

Lily squirmed, gave a delicate burp, and settled again into a sleepy slump. Appeased, I moved from patting to rubbing. Whenever Lily burped, everything else fell into place.

Next hurdle?

Complete.

“Do you have children, Cade?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh! Do you have one on the way?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. There’s no lady of the ranch, or anything like that.”

Lady of the ranch. Huh. I tucked that interesting tidbit away and leaned my cheek against Lily’s downy hair. Her soft skin and tender, tiny shape captured me. Sometimes, I couldn’t comprehend just how little babies could be. Their fragile fingers, tensile strength. Everything about Lily was a miracle, and having a miracle in my responsibility was weird.

“Do you live in Chicago?” he asked.