Page 72 of Please Open Me
Rosie’s lips split into a wide grin. She leaned forward, planting her hands on my chest. I puckered my lips, expecting a slobbery kiss, Mason had been teaching her, and it was the cutest thing in the world.
Instead, she latched onto my nose and bit down.
I sucked in a pained breath and lifted her into the air. She laughed with a whole-body giggle, showing off her two bottom teeth. That’s when I noticed two new ones had broken through up top.
Sitting up, I kept my distance and placed her on my lap.
I rubbed my slobber-soaked nose, trying to ease the dull ache.
“You think that’s funny, don’t you?”
Rosie clapped her hands.
My eyes narrowed. “You should be nice to me…”
She grinned wider—if that was even possible—and smacked my leg for good measure. I reached for her wrist and gave it a gentle shake.
“That’s not how we treat people who give us tummy time and snacks and carry our chunky little butts around all day.”
She babbled something that sounded suspiciously likebah bah, which could’ve meant she wanted a bottle, or a stuffed sheep, or maybe she was trying—and failing—to say my name.
I went with the last one. It made me feel better.
I put her back down on the carpet and watched her flop onto her belly and start smacking a plastic cup against the floor.
“Can we go to bed yet?” I yawned, cradling my cheek in my hand.
She didn’t respond, obviously, because she was a baby. Instead, she grunted and screamed into the cup. The plastic muffled the sound, barely.
“Cool. I’m taking that as a no.”
I’d just need a lot of coffee to get through the day. Or crack. I was sure Lucian knew someone.
I scrubbed my eyes and blinked a few times, trying to unstick my eyeballs from the back of my skull.
At some point during our sleep boycott, the sun had started to rise. Golden light bled through the blinds, catching in Rosie’s wild curls and setting the copper ablaze.
She blew a raspberry at me and tossed the cup in my direction. It nearly hit me in the face, but I caught it.
“All right, that’s it. If you want to be a stinky baby, you can be a sleepy baby.”
Rosie had a whole nursery she never used. Mason and Cameron preferred having her with them, which meant we had aridiculousnumber of mini cribs.
But if she wanted to hit and bite, I was going to take her happy little butt to her room, rock her until she passed out, and leave her in her own bed. Alone. Until she woke up.
Fuck. I needed to sleep.
Rosie’s eyes widened into chocolatey saucers, and her lower lip quivered like she actually fucking understood me. For a moment, I thought she might cry. Likecrycry, as Mason would put it. Not a tantrum. Not because she didn’t get her way. Real, sad tears.
“No,” I cooed, picking her up under the armpits and raising her to eye level. “You don’t get to weaponize that cute little face.”
She huffed a few whimpery breaths and reached for me with pudgy hands. Slowly, I pulled her toward me. She rested her head on my shoulder. I felt her jaw drop with a yawn so big it warmed my collarbone.
I yawned too.
“All right, munchkin. Let’s get you a nap. Dada needs one too.”
Her hand fisted my shirt as I slowly got to my feet, using my knees to stand. Together, we stumbled toward her room. She’d sleep in her crib. I’d nap in the impossibly soft glider Mason insisted we needed but never used. Everyone would be happy. We wouldn’t disturb anyone. And I could go to work in like… three hours.
