Louis POV
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"Yeah, Sammy's birth really.. took a heavy toll on her mental state. She's recuperating. She's getting better.." I spoke quietly into the phone, trying my best to clear any signs of worry from my voice.
"He's good.. doing good.. growing hair, gaining weight.. he's.. on formula now.. yeah," I mumbled in conversation, continuing to lightly brush my thumb over the wisps of hair on top of Sammy's head. His eyelashes continued to tiredly flutter against my shirt as I slowly rocked, the chair creaking beneath me.
"I'm sorry..." I nearly whispered, the sadness seeping back in, "I know but I just wish she told... yeah it was a complete impulse—yes.." I dragged a hand against my face, "Yeah."
"Yeah," I dejectedly agreed, "That's Josie."
The door creaked open and my heavy eyes lifted from the floor to see DaSha slowly walk in. As she leaned over to peek in the bassinet at a silent, but very awake Ethan, I returned my gaze to the floor and then to the initials on the wall as my wife's mother continued to speak calmly in her motherly inquisitions over the phone.
"Of course.. I'll keep you up to speed. Rest easy, okay? It'll all be better soon."
After a few more words were exchanged, we hung up, and I immediately felt the weakness settling back in as I nearly dropped my phone in exhaustion.
She'd finally called. Opening the very fresh wound in reminder that none of this was not happening. Twisting the knife with hints of my wife seeping from her voice, salting it with questions upon questions of things about her daughter I couldn't answer.
When I finally pried my eyes open, DaSha was still standing over Ethan. I closed them back.
"He's so peaceful when he's like this," she spoke quietly. Without even opening my eyes, I could tell her voice was still directed towards inside the bassinet.
"He's a peaceful baby."
"For you."
"No, DaSh. For anyone that gives him affection past 2 minutes," I said.
"Stop," she said, her voice turning towards me. I opened my eyes to see the scowl on her face. "Stop doing that."
"Stop leaving him."
Right on cue, Ethan started lightly whining from his bed.
DaSha subconsciously took a single step back before catching herself and meeting my knowing eyes. I lowered my focus back to the baby in my own arms, trying to keep him at ease.
She huffed, "I get it. I'm a bad mother. You don't have to tell me every single day."
She started to head toward the door, faux angriness dripping off her.
I didn't bother lifting my eyes from Sam when I spoke, "DaSha get back here."
"What for?"
"Because you're his mother," I said.
"And you're his holier-than-thou father. You got this."
One foot out the door. "DaSha his mother!"
"Which is why I just breastfed him an hour ago!"
"An hour ago? What about his needs now?"
"You're here. It's a team effort."
"You just fed him," I raised my voice to stop her, once again, in her attempt out the door.
She stared at me, unbothered.
