“You don’t understand,” she said finally.
“No. I get it,” he spat out the words. “You’re afraid.”
13
Reese had Maddy already tucked into her crib when they got back. Then she relayed every detail about what Maddy had done, eaten, and the faces she’d made from the time they’d left until the time she’d gone blissfully to sleep. Sam thought about the fact that her experience with Maddy was quite the contradiction to what his had been the night before.
Reese stood in the kitchen, getting them both two plates of the previously made spaghetti that Sam was no longer hungry for.
“So how was the show, sweetie?” she asked Tiffany.
“Good,” Tiffany said unenthusiastically, her eyes meeting Sam’s for a moment before going to her plate where she picked up her fork and picked at the food.
Reese frowned and looked suspiciously at Sam. “Why aren’t you two eating?”
Tiffany shrugged and pushed the food away. “This is Sam’s third dinner.”
Reese frowned and then pulled both plates away. “Obviously, neither of you are hungry. What’s going on? What was wrong with the show?”
“Nothing,” Sam said quickly.
Reese loaded the plates and then turned to him. “Did you like it?”
Cocking his head to the side, he nodded. “It was one of the best performances I’ve ever heard,” he said honestly, purposely not looking at Tiffany. He hated that everything felt weird now. He didn’t want it to be weird. He desperately wanted it to be like it was earlier. He wanted to recapture how it’d felt when he’d play the guitar with her or when they had surfed and laughed together. How it’d felt to hold her after the performance when he’d lifted her up and she was so happy.
It all felt different now, and he didn’t know why he cared so much.
After cleaning up the kitchen, Reese surprised him by giving him a hug and then told Tiffany she would wait for her out in the truck.
He wiped the counter, not looking at her.
“Sam, are you okay?”
“No.” He stopped wiping the counter and stared up at her. Her soft curls fell perfectly around her face. Her blue eyes were pensive.
“You’re going to make it Tiffany, if you’ll just reach out and take it.” Then he puffed out a laugh because he thought of her last name. “Chance…take a chance.”
Her eyes lit up, and she blinked the welling moisture away. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just turned away from him and moved toward the door. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
14
Sam woke to the loud sound of Maddy crying. He could hear her fine through the walls, but he had the monitor on, and it blared in his ear. Jolting up in bed, he looked at the time and realized that it was four am, and this was the first time Maddy had woken. He flew down the hall to her.
When he got to the room, she was standing, supporting herself on the bars of the crib. She wore pink jammies, and her binky was on the floor. She was reaching through the crib bars for it. Her red hair was matted and her cheeks were rosy. She immediately reached up for him when he leaned in to pick her up. “Well good morning, Maddy.” He pulled her into his chest.
Wanting nothing to do with his cuddles, she kicked her legs and spit her binky, little yelps coming from her. “Num, num.”
He moved swiftly down the hall and stairs. “The hunger making you cranky?” he asked, using the singsong voice again. He went straight to the high chair as she released another wail.
He got her buckled in and then rushed to the sink and mixed up a quick bottle. “I know. I get cranky when I’m hungry too, sweetie.”
Half an hour later, Maddy had downed the bottle and was on her second jar of oatmeal.
His system of feeding Maddy was efficient. He would scoop up a bite of oatmeal for her. Then he would drop to the floor and do five pushups, and he finished by jumping up ‘burpie style.’ He figured it took her a couple of seconds to eat, and he had to get his push ups in anyway. Can’t go soft, Dumont, he thought. In all the months that he’d struggled with anxiety and depression, exercise and training had been the staples in his routine that kept him sane.
Since he was young, he’d been physical. He’d always enjoyed pushing himself. And after his mother passed and his father progressively went down the road to alcoholism, football had become his constant. By the time he was fifteen, Sam was living with his paternal grandparents.
He thought of his grandma and felt guilty for not calling her. She’d been devastated at his dad’s funeral. For him, the funeral had been somewhat of a relief. Yes, he felt bad about feeling that way. He’d burned up a lot of hours ‘delving’ into those feelings with the shrink. He’d watched his grandma, the only woman on the earth he loved fiercely, fall apart and sob hysterically as they put his dad into the ground. But the only reaction he’d had to witnessing that was anger—harsh, cold anger. He was angry at his father, and even at his grandparents for giving most of their retirement and savings to enable him. Of course he’d stuck a couple hundred grand back into their accounts to make up for it, but part of him still blamed them for enabling him so much.
He fed Maddy another bite and dropped and did his last five of fifty pushups. It helped to be physical. He pushed thoughts of the past few weeks out of his brain. He put them in the box in his brain labeled ‘look at never.’ That was right by the box of ‘feelings of abandonment and anger’ at his mother who died on him. He sucked in a cleansing breath. He couldn’t deal with that crap now. He had this beautiful little girl to take care of.
Maddy must have finally had her fill because she pushed away the next bite.
“Are you done, baby girl?” He grinned and brushed a hand through her soft hair. It was a kind of soft that he’d never felt before. Taking a clean rag out of a drawer, he wet it and wiped her clean. Then he plucked her out of the high chair, lifting her up above his head. “What should we do until your daddy gets home?”
Without warning she opened her mouth, and food fell straight at him, splattering all over his face.
“Ack.” He pulled her into him, maneuvering her to his hip and using the towel to wipe the barf splatter from his face.
Maddy giggled while she watched him.
He grinned at those chubby, ruddy cheeks. “You think that’s funny?” He didn’t even recognize his own voice. He hadn’t known it could reach that octave.
Maddy just giggled again.
He looked at her, and he was lost.
He took the rag and covered his face and then pulled it back quickly like he’d seen Tiffany do in the tub the other night. “Boo.”
At this, she giggled so hard her whole body shook.
Hearing her delight, he was hooked. They played this game for roughly ten minutes Afterwards, he got her settled in front of her toys on the floor and then quickly did a much more thorough job of using hot water and the rag to clean himself, the high chair, and the floor. He scoured the cupboards and found the necessary items for a quick protein shake.
He thought about the text from Roman last night that had said they would probably get discharged from the hospital around ten and be home by ten-thirty. Bizarre, he mused as he scrubbed everything and watched her cooing and ahhing over the toys. It was bizarre how much he could already feel himself attached to Maddy. Thoughts of Roman coming home today fluttered through him. He looked at the clock on the stove. It was barely five in the morning. He realized that he almost didn’t want Roman to come home. He wanted to stay here and take care of Maddy. But that was ridiculous. Silly. He’d never taken care of anybody before this, let alone a baby. He could barely take care of himself.