Infinity(50)

I throw my hand up, stopping her. “I get it. Doesn’t seem possible this year.” I contort my long limbs in the bathtub so I’m able to slip under the water. My blood is boiling. She told me no, that she’s not coming to my away games. I know it isn’t rational. I know her reasoning is perfectly logical and makes sense, but damn, it doesn’t make it any less easy to hear. She’s my breath, my soul. I need her with me.

When my head pops out of the water, she’s gone. I look around the bathroom and don’t see her anywhere. “Charlie,” I call.

No answer. I assume that she went to check on Ainsley. I look down at my dick, and we’re on the same page. She might anger us, but it’s been two days since we had any attention. I bet that I can talk her into some we’ve-been-apart lovin’. Maybe? God, I hope so.

I lean forward and start draining the water when she comes into the bathroom holding Ainsley, who’s covered in baby vomit. “Oh no. Is she sick?” I ask, like an idiot. It’s obvious that she is.

“I think that it’s just teething, but her bed is a mess.” My dick deflates at her words. It’s time to be a dad.

I climb out of the tub, and grab my seven-month-old squirming angel that is the perfect mix of her mother and me. I refill the bathtub with much cooler water, and remove Ainsley’s messy pink footed pajamas and her diaper, tossing the latter in the special garbage can.

“Thanks,” Charlie calls over her shoulder as she walks out of the bathroom. “I’m going to strip her bed.”

I press Ainsley to my chest with my left hand, and slide us both into the warm water. She coos and grabs a fistful of my chest hair, giving it a tug. It makes me wince, so I gently open her little plump fingers and extract my hair. She smiles at me as if she wants me to see her swollen gums. I kiss her white-blonde hair that replaced her dark hair which fell out when she was a couple of months old. She’s so gorgeous. She’s got her mother’s lavender eyes, and my olive complexion. I hope that she’ll have Charlie’s long legs and perfect ass. At the moment, she’s a chunky little thing. Fat rolls on top of fat rolls. I love every cell of her body, but damn, I wish she’d quit raining on my alone-time with her mother.

I slide us a little deeper into the water and reposition her on my chest so she’s facing away from me. She slaps the water, giggling each time water droplets sprinkle her face. Using my right hand to cup water, I pour it over her head, careful to avoid her eyes. She slaps the water double time, letting me know that she likes it.

Grabbing the baby soap and pink and white polka-dotted washcloth, I begin to bathe her. Once I have her backside, I lay her back against my chest so I can wash her tummy, arms, hands, and legs. I assume that her feet are still clean from her earlier bath.

“I missed you, baby girl,” I coo to her. She looks up at me with Charlie’s eyes, and pats my face with her chunky hand. I capture it with my lips, and pretend to eat her fingers. She loves this game, and squeals with such delight I want to do it again and again.

Charlie walks into the bathroom looking haggard. Dark circles surround her bloodshot eyes. Her shoulders are slumped. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of Ainsley,” I encourage her.

She walks over and plants a kiss on both of our foreheads. “Thanks. I appreciate the help. By the way, I hope you know that the article you sent me was nothing.”

The picture of Brad and Charlie walking so close is not defined as nothing by me, but now is not the time to discuss their relationship. I just smile and lean forward for a goodnight kiss, which she brushes across my lips.

Ainsley and I watch her change her T-shirt, still neglecting underwear. Damn her. I’m going to be tempted to wake her up once Little Miss is back in bed.

We play in the bathtub for about ten more minutes before I get us both out, drying her using a pink hooded-towel that makes her look like a kitty-cat. I show her the reflection in the mirror, and she claps with delight.

Gently, I place her on the floor of my closet while I quickly towel-dry, and throw on some boxer briefs. Then I scoop her up in her kitty towel, and head upstairs to put her back to bed—hopefully for the night.

Pancho, who’s shown no interest in this tonight, follows us upstairs as if to make sure that the little person gets back in bed.

I put a fresh diaper on her, and pick out my favorite pair of footed jammies. Clay gave them to us. They’re pink and read, “Better looking than Daddy.”

Because I’ve missed out on two nights of bedtime stories and snuggles, I rock her in her pink-and-green striped chair and read her Goodnight Moon. Before the end of the story, she’s fast asleep in my arms.