Page 65 of Something Like Shelter

“I couldn’t do anything right,” she whimpered.

“Hey, it was just a bad day,” I said, curling my free arm around her and pulling her to my side. “You’re exhausted. She’s exhausted. And you’re feeding on each other’s energy.”

She sniffled and nodded, but I could still feel the tears through the arm of my tee. “I don’t understand what was so wrong. She’s been fussy before, but never like this.”

“Has she slept at all?”

“Not really. Twenty minutes here and there.”

“That’s probably all it was. The more tired she got, the more upset she was.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, exhaling hard.

“Why don’t you go sneak a nap in?” I asked. “I can handle her for a few hours.”

“I can’t ask—”

“You’re not,” I reminded her.

“But what if she—”

“If she needs you, I will bring her to you. I promise.”

She looked torn, but so exhausted she was probably barely seeing straight.

“I’m just going to nap here,” she said, reaching behind her to settle the pillow against the arm of the couch.

“Okay,” I agreed as she settled.

She was out cold in under two minutes.

I pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and covered her before getting up with Adelaide, who I didn’t dare put down if she was sleeping, to take out Tuna, then grab a few bites of food.

It wasn’t long, though, before Adelaide started to fuss again.

Wanting to give Willa at least an uninterrupted hour or two, I took Adelaide up to the nursery to rock her in the glider, then put her in her swing, then back out to rock again.

Willa wasn’t imagining it—Adelaide was more than a normal amount of fussy. At least that’s how I felt based on the experience I had around babies. Which, admittedly, wasn’t a ton, but felt like a decent frame of reference.

I did manage to keep her mostly quiet for the better part of two hours.

But when she kept trying to turn her face toward my chest, I figured she was probably hungry again.

I was going to try to gently wake up Willa, but just as I was coming around the couch, Adelaide let out a full-on wail that had Willa jolting upright, eyes wide but unseeing for a moment.

“I think she’s hungry,” I explained, voice gentle as I handed her the baby.

“Oh, right,” she agreed as I pressed a burp cloth to her shoulder then walked toward the kitchen to reheat the coffee I’d gotten on the way home for her.

When I walked back in, Willa was wide awake.

“How long was I out?”

“Just about two hours.”

“She slept the whole time?”

“Not at all. You’re right. She’s definitely fussy today. Coffee? I got you full caffeine today. I know it’s been a rough one. But I can make decaf if you want.”