"Daddy's coming!"

Wail.

"Just a minute!"

Cry.

"I know you're hungry, Claire, Daddy will be there in just a second!"

Scream.

I don't know what the hell Blink did to the bottle warmer. How do you break one of these things? Honestly.

I'm standing in the kitchen, ready to pitch this piece of shit out of the window, while Claire is in her Moses basket on the living room floor, vehemently voicing her opinion at the top of her lungs. I have all of thirty seconds to make this bottle before my eardrums rupture, and the freaking bottle warmer won't work. I don't have time to boil a pot of water.

I'm going effing crazy here.

With a bad-tempered smack to its side, the bottle warmer starts up, and I'm ready to cry with relief. I heat up the bottle and trudge out to the living room, scooping Claire out of her basket and plopping down onto the couch.

"Alright. Lunch is here. The world has righted itself again."

Claire quiets for a moment and looks at me, and I offer her the bottle. She looks at it for a moment, then looks back at me.

Wail.

I sigh. "Come on, baby girl," I say softly, offering her the bottle again. Her little arm flails out and bats it out of my hand. Closing my eyes for a moment, I shake my head. "Remind me to sign you up for karate when you're old enough."

Scream.

"Okay, do we need a diaper change?" I get up and take her to the nursery, laying her on the changing table. I unbutton her onesie and check her diaper – dry. "Well, what's wrong, honey?"

Cry.

Where the hell is Blink? I sent him to the grocery store for the weekly shopping and usually that takes forty-five minutes. He's been gone for over an hour and a half. I swear to God, I'm going to shoot him when he gets home. He's been running errands all day and hasn't been home for more than an hour since he got up this morning. I can't take care of the baby all by myself.

I roll my eyes and undo the top few buttons on my shirt, picking up the still-screaming Claire and laying her against my chest. I walk around the apartment with her, bouncing her a little, and resisting the urge to tear my hair out.

After fifteen minutes of this, the front door swings open. Blink comes into the kitchen where I'm standing, and has the nerve to smile at me like I'm just going to welcome him home.

"Hey, babe," he says, setting the groceries on the counter and giving that pity-look to Claire, who is still practicing to be an opera star. "Boy, someone's grumpy today."

"What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I ran into Dutchy at the grocery store and he had to tell me all about the joys married life and I had to show off pictures of Claire and brag about her and tell him how much better my life is than his," he chirps, a bright grin spreading across his face.

"You were gone for two hours." I lean against the counter and glare at him.

"Was I?"

"If not longer."

"Sorry." He shrugs like it's nothing. Like I haven't been here with a screaming baby all day while he's been running errands. "I'll be back in a minute, I have to grab the rest of the groceries."

He heads out the door and comes back up a couple minutes later and puts the groceries away, then smiles at me. "So, what did you two do while I was gone? Anything super fun that I might have missed out on?"

I cock an eyebrow. "We didn't do anything. She's been like this all day."

"Did you feed her?"

"Tried to. She won't eat."

"Change her diaper?"

"Blink." My chain is about to snap.

He looks at me, as if he's surprised that I'm not happy with him. "Did you try putting her in her little chair-thingy? The one that vibrates?"

"She hates that thing."

"Okay... well... um, I can take her, if you want, and you can go relax, or whatever you want to do... Just take a little time for yourself, I guess." He looks apologetic, and a little pathetic, and he'd be cute if I won't so angry at him right now.

"Fine." I hand him the baby and she immediately stops crying.

"Aww," Blink says, laughing a little. "Did you miss your Daddy Blink?" He kisses the top of her head, bouncing her around a bit.

I roll my eyes and head into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Claire starts crying again at the noise, and I smile a little in satisfaction as I drop down onto the bed.

What is wrong with me?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Alright, she's sleeping," Blink says, coming into the living room and curling up on the couch next to me. I continue staring at the television and he looks at me, then at the screen. "So, any new developments today?"

"No. She just cried." I flip through the channels, shrugging.

"Maybe she's colicky."

"Or maybe she just likes crying. She's a baby."

"Um. Could be." He shrugs. I stay silent, and he turns to me. "Are you mad at me?"

I turn off the television and look at him. "No, Blink, I just love it when you're gone all fucking day and you leave me with a screaming baby to take care of by myself. Nothing makes me happier."

He winces. "I thought that this was what you wanted." I just stare at him. "Being a parent, I mean. I thought you wanted a baby."

"I did! And I love Claire, more than anything. But I cannot do this by myself. I just can't, Blink. We are parents together. And when you're gone all day, that kind of defeats the purpose."

"I'm sorry." He bites his lower lip.

"I'm going to bed." I get up, and he grabs my hand.

"Mush, come on, I'm sorry." He looks really sincere, and I sigh.

"Blink, it's just not okay. I'm going crazy here. We both took time off work to spend time with Claire and you're always out doing something or another. I need you here."

He pulls me back down onto the couch, draws me into him. "Okay. I'll be here. I promise."

I nod. "Okay."

Blink tilts my chin up and kisses me for the first time today, slow and soft, and I very nearly melt despite my determination to remain pissed off at him. "I really am sorry," he says, his lips a couple inches from mine.

"I forgive you," I say, placing a hand on his chest. "For now, anyway."

He smiles a little and kisses me again, deepening it this time. I lean into him, sighing, as he wraps his arms around me and leans forward, pushing me against the arm of the couch and resting on top of me. His weight on me is familiar and comfortable, warm and sweet as it's always been. I smile as his hands find their way to the buttons on my shirt and undo them with expertise he's accumulated over the years, and slides the shirt off my shoulders. He kisses my neck and collarbone, and I lean my head back, grinning.

"I love you," I say, laughing a little as he nips at the little bit of skin right above my navel.

"Love you too," he mumbles against my stomach, flipping open my belt.

"What are you doing?" I crane my neck to look down at him as he's easing my jeans down my hips.

"Lie still," he says with a devilish grin.

I love it when he apologizes to me.