Chapter 8: Foreign Feelings

My head hurt when I woke up this morning. I didn't drink that much — wasn't even drunk, actually — and yet I had a minor hangover. I took Advil and made coffee. The clock on the stove told me I had slept over eight hours. Under the headache, I did feel pretty well-rested. I'd have felt better without the headache, though. As I watched the news and checked my phone, I realized Mom and Dad hadn't called, which meant Little One probably did fine. I called Mom anyway, just to be sure.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," she answered happily.

"Morning. How's Sofia?" I asked, drinking my coffee.

"I think she misses you, but she's okay."

"She misses me?"

"She had the hardest time going to sleep last night."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I'll be over there soon to get her."

That made me feel like shit. I knew the little one could be a handful when she was fussy. My parents probably didn't sleep last night because of her.

"Don't rush," she said. "She's better this morning. She helped me make French toast."

"She helped you make French toast?" I asked. "What did she do? Beat the eggs?"

She laughed. "Well, no, but she was good company."

"She didn't laugh, did she?"

"No, sweetie, you didn't miss that," she said. "Come get her in a little bit after you've had some time to yourself."

"Okay, I'll be over in an hour."

"Sounds good. I made cookies last night, so I have a tin for you."

I perked up. "Cookies? What kind?"

"Peanut better chocolate chip. Your favorite."

"I love you, Mom," I laughed.

"I love you, too."

Before going to get Little One, I poured a massive bowl of cereal and sat down on the couch, just enjoying the alone time. When I was done, I started laundry and went for a jog. I hadn't jogged without Little One in so long that it felt weird to do it without the stroller. A little . . . lonely, I guess. I kind of fucking missed her, as insane as that sounded.

. . . . .

When I walked into the living room of my parent's house, I found Dad sitting in his chair with Little One lying against his chest. She was awake, sucking on her pacifier like usual. Her eyes seemed to widen when she saw me. Maybe I was imagining it, but I didn't think so. She was happy to see me. Dad gently passed her to me, and I held her close with my hand on the back of her head.

"Hey, Little One, were you good for Grandma and Grandpa?" I asked, suddenly feeling the urge to kiss her cheek.

I was fucking losing myself to her.

Dad smiled as he stood up. "She was fine," he said. "A little fussy last night, but it worked out."

"Sorry. I know she can get pretty loud."

"She was fine," Mom said, coming into the room with the tin of cookies. "We loved having her for the night."

I nodded. "Good."

"Did you have fun?" she asked.

"It was nice to get to go out."

She gave me an appraising look. "What time did you get home?"

"Uh . . . I think it was around one. Jasper's girlfriend invited a friend along who happened to be my new neighbor," I said. "After Jasper and Alice — his girlfriend — left, we stayed and talked. She drove us home since she didn't have as much to drink as me."

Mom looked surprised. "She just drove you home?"

I nodded. "I went into my apartment, and she went into hers."

You know, after I tried to get her to come in.

"Huh."

"I didn't sleep with her, okay?"

She put her hands up. "I never said you did." She smiled. "I'm glad you had a good time. I know it's hard on you to change so drastically for Sofia, but you're doing well."

"I, uh . . . thanks, Mom."

She smiled and kissed Sofia's cheek. "Bye-bye, baby girl," she said.

. . . . .

Little One fell asleep in the car and slept peacefully all the way home and into the apartment. That was until I laid her down in the crib. She instantly started crying and flailing her arms around. I quickly picked her back up and held her against my chest. I rubbed her back softly as she rested her head in the crook of my neck.

"Shh, Little One, I'm here," I said, starting to walk through the apartment.

I sat down on the living room floor with her and laid her on the blanket. I wiped the tears off of her plump cheeks and smiled. Her crying had stopped, and she smiled back at me.

I tickled her belly and she cooed like usual. "You're a happy baby, right?" I asked, moving my hands to her tiny feet.

I moved them around, basically doing some kind of jazzercise shit. She seemed to like it. She put her hand in her mouth and started sucking on her fingers. The kid loved to suck on shit. Her pacifier, my fingers, her fingers . . . if it could go in her mouth, she'd put it in there. That could turn into a problem someday. I pulled her hands away and moved them with mine, bringing them together, so she was kind of clapping. I made a silly fucking face, and she stared at me. No smile, just stared. I was probably scaring the shit out of her.

"Yeah, I don't think my face is supposed to do that, either," I laughed, picking up a stuffed toy and holding it in front of her face.

She raised her hand and batted at it, but didn't try to take it. I pulled it away from her, and she started to look a little pissed. I quickly put it back and let her bat it some more. She grew tired of it eventually, so I picked her up and laid her down in the center of the play gym, so she could have her own fun while I made her a bottle.

I kept peeking out of the kitchen to make sure she was okay as I made the bottle. After the rolling on her side on the changing table incident, I didn't want to take any chances. She wasn't even four months old and already doing that, so she was a little ahead of what the baby book said. I didn't want to look away and have something happen to her.

As I tested the bottle on my wrist like usual, I heard a sound. I shot back into the living room and found Little One batting at the toy hanging above her. She was . . . giggling. The kid was giggling!

I was grinning like a fucking maniac. "You did it!" I exclaimed, lifting her up and into arms. "You giggled, didn't you?"

She didn't make another sound as I held her close and kissed the top of her head. I wanted to fucking run around the neighborhood, screaming that the little one finally giggled. The sound she made was just . . . to be honest, it was fucking cute. I didn't call things cute, but that kind of was. There was no better way to describe it.

"Will you do it again?" I asked, doubting she'd listen. After all, she didn't even understand me.

I laid her back down on the floor and tickled her belly. Nothing. I went for her feet, and she made a tiny one, but it wasn't like before.

"Laugh for daddy," I said, not even realizing the word was coming out of my mouth.

I hadn't called myself daddy before. It seemed insane that I could refer to myself that way, but I could. I helped create her. I didn't really think I deserved to call myself a dad, like my own dad could. It wasn't right to put myself on that level with him. He and Mom tried for years to get pregnant, wanting children so badly. Rose was born six years after they got married, me ten. They wanted us more than anything in the world. It wasn't a secret that I didn't want Little One. It was shameful, actually. I felt like this was more of a burden than a joy, but I did want it to be a joy. I wasn't stupid enough not to realize that I should have been thrilled at the thought of a kid. I was self-centered. I cared more about my happiness than anything else. I knew that had to change, and I was trying. Little One deserved more than trying, though. She deserved a dad that loved her.

Which begged the question, did I love her? Honestly, I still didn't know. I cared about her, sure. But was that love? Hell if I knew. I loved my parents and my family. I knew that love. I didn't know this love. I didn't know what it felt like to love a child and that worried me. What if I didn't love her? That'd be pretty fucking shitty for her because she deserved to be loved. She was . . . special.

. . . . .

When I went down to get my mail that evening, I just carried Little One. I had forgotten to grab it when we got home, so we had to leave the apartment again. As if someone wanted to force me to apologize like I needed to, New Girl just so happened to walk into the building at the exact time I was grabbing the envelopes out. She waited patiently behind me until I was done and shut my mailbox before opening hers.

"I was a dick," I said.

She turned her head around and raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said.

I sighed. "I'm trying to apologize for pissing you off."

She shut the mailbox and threw the keys and mail into her purse before turning around to actually face me. "You didn't piss me off."

"I did something wrong because you barely spoke to me after I said something about your truck," I said. "I was just fucking around."

"Even if I were pissed off, it wouldn't have been about the truck. I'm used to it."

"Was it me inviting you in?"

She shrugged. "That wasn't exactly shocking, what with your track record."

"What do you know about my track record?" She looked at Sofia, and then back at me. "Okay, I deserve that."

"If you want me to say I forgive you, then okay, I forgive you."

"Well, if you're not pissed, then I guess I don't need to apologize." I smirked. "Wouldn't that be right?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You're uh . . . you're something else, you know that?"

"Was that an insult or a compliment because I've heard it both ways," I laughed.

She smirked. "I wasn't going for compliment."

"Ah, so insult. That hurts."

She laughed softly. "I'm sure you've heard worse."

I shrugged. "Yeah," I chuckled. "So you're not mad at me?"

She shook her head. "No, Edward, I'm not mad."

"But something upset you last night."

She pulled her lip between her teeth, and then quickly released it. She smiled a little and said, "I'm fine."

I didn't believe her. Something upset her last night, and if it wasn't the truck or inviting her in, then it had to be bringing up her mom. I could understand that. I was sure that was a touchy subject. It just sounded like one, after all. But if you wanted to get technical, she brought it up, not me. She said her mom had been a teacher. Though it was, in fact, not me who upset her, I still kind of felt bad.

"Hey, I'm making my specialty tonight for dinner," I said. "Would you like to share my Mac and Cheese?" I laughed.

I didn't want to, you know, leave her upset . . . or anything.

"Would you rather homemade spaghetti and meatballs? Well, homemade sauce. The meatballs were frozen," she said, smirking.

"You know, that sounds much better. I'd love that, and Sofia would like to spend time with you again, anyway." I grinned, turning around so Little One could see her. "She likes you."

New Girl came over and touched the little one's cheek. "I like her, too," she said.

. . . . .

While New Girl started dinner, I took Little One back into our apartment to bathe and feed her. It was a little early, but she didn't seem to mind. She rested contentedly as I used my free hand to wash her off, using the other hand to support her neck. Little One never flailed her arms to splash the shallow water. Apparently, this was her relaxing time.

"I think you enjoy this too much," I said, moving onto her hair. "But I'll take this weird limpness over flailing and splashing any day."

After getting Sofia dry and changed into a new onesie, I fed her. After she was full, I put her in the car seat, and we went to New Girl's apartment across the hall. She said she had just finished dinner, so I had perfect timing.

Her apartment was . . . nice, I guess. The furniture was simple and the walls were bare of photographs. It didn't seem very personal, but I was only in the living room and dining room. She probably had that stuff in her bedroom. I set Little One's car seat down by the table and sat down in front of one of the plates she had already put on the table.

"I hope it's better than your Mac and Cheese," she said, setting a glass of water down.

The food was . . . holy shit, New Girl could cook. Whatever the fuck went into this sauce was delicious. I dare say, it may have been better than Mom's spaghetti, and I loved hers.

"I'm guessing you enjoy it from the look on your face?" she laughed softly.

"It's delicious," I said. "You're a great cook."

Her cheeks flushed lightly as she sipped her water. "Thank you."

As we ate, the conversation started off light. I asked about her day, and she asked about mine. She drove down to Forks to visit her dad, like she did once a month or so. He was the police chief of the small town, but she wanted him to retire. I couldn't believe she was actually talking about herself.

"So how is Sofia doing with daycare?" she asked.

I nodded. "She seems fine. Her schedule is better, more predictable, which is good for her and me."

"That's good." She smiled. "What's she doing down here?"

I looked beside my feet and found Little One fast asleep. "It's evening naptime, apparently."

New Girl peeked around the round table to my feet to see Little One for herself. "She's really cute."

I grinned, somewhat proudly. "Yeah, she is."

"Have you gotten . . . used to it yet?"

I snorted. "Hell no. I'm not sure I ever will."

"Still don't think you're a dad?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I accidently called myself 'daddy' to her earlier. That was . . . an odd feeling."

She smiled. "I think that's sweet. She needs to hear it so that she can say it someday."

"She also giggled for the first time today."

"Wow, those are big steps for the two of you. I bet that was precious."

"Yeah," I laughed. "I never thought I could refer to something as cute."

"That is really great, Edward." She smiled and raised her glass of water. "To more giggles?"

I laughed and clanked my glass against hers. "To more giggles."

I stuck around New Girl's apartment after dinner. From the way she was looking at Little One, I could tell she wanted her hold her. Even though she was still asleep, and a fit could have been started, I picked Sofia up out of her car seat and let New Girl — whose name really was Bella, even though I preferred New Girl — hold her. She sat down on her couch and smiled down at the little one. Thankfully, a fit didn't start. Little One stayed perfectly asleep, even snuggled into New Girl.

"Obviously, since you're a teacher, I'm guessing you really like kids?" I asked as I sat beside her, watching her with my daughter.

She nodded. "I do."

"Um . . . why?"

She looked up, confused. "Why do I like kids?" I nodded. "Well, I just do. They see the world in a different way, and I wish we all could see it like them sometimes. It'd be good for us."

"By seeing only the good?"

"They see the bad, too. They just look at it differently. If you ask a five year old what to do if someone is upset, they'd say give them a hug. Simple. Give them a hug. If you asked an adult, what would they say?"

"Uh, I'd try to figure out why, I guess."

I probably wasn't the best person to ask that question. Normally, unless they were a patient or someone I cared about, I'd just leave them alone. Hell, even if they were a patient or someone I cared about, I'd probably still leave them alone. I wasn't good with . . . sad. It just got awkward.

"You'd make a fuss about it, wouldn't you?" she asked. I nodded, lying with a nod. "But half the time, they don't want a fuss. They just need to know someone is there. A hug does that."

"Huh," I said. "So you like kids because they hug?"

She laughed softly. "I like them because they're innocent. They don't know what we do. And because they're actually quite adorable."

"Not always. They can bite."

Peds rotation taught me that.

She rolled her eyes and smirked a little. "You probably deserved it if you were bitten."

"Did not."

"And now you're arguing like one of my students."

"Touché."

"Sure, kids can be ornery, but they're just kids," she said. "I do teach kindergarten for a reason, though."

"And what's that?"

"They're still really sweet. Plus, they take naps."

I laughed. "Quiet time."

She nodded. "And then they wake up with those sleepy little faces. Precious," she laughed softly.

Little One's eyes started to open, and she looked up at New Girl. She didn't fuss. She just yawned and stretched a little.

"That face," Bella said.

"I do like that face," I agreed.

Little One and I stayed for a while longer. She really seemed to like New Girl, so I let them do whatever the fuck it was that they were doing. Little One even giggled some more because of New Girl, so that was nice. I liked the giggled. It was worth the time it took for her to do it. I didn't want her to stop.

"Thanks for coming over and bringing her," New Girl said, laying Little One down in the car seat and buckling her up for the twenty foot trip across the hall.

"Thanks for cooking," I said. "And we might have to do this again. I think she had a good time."

She smiled. "Well, I did too, so I'd love to do it again. She can come over any time she wants."

I laughed. "Don't tempt me. I still need to figure out what to do with her when I go back to being on-call and working nights."

She looked up at me. "You need someone to watch her?"

"Yeah, because I'll get called in if they need me. I also have to work nightshifts some weeks. It goes along with being a surgeon."

"Oh," she said. "If you're ever in a bind, I can watch her. I mean, I understand if you say no. You barely know me after all."

"You'd be willing to watch her?"

"Sure."

I could have fucking hugged her. "She can be a handful."

She shrugged. "It's not like it's every night. I could take care of her when you have no one else."

"I have no one else. My mom said she would sometimes, but she can't always keep her. And you're right next door."

"I'd love to help."

"Thank you, Bella. I'm not back on the call schedule or have nightshifts yet, but when I am, I'll let you know. Seriously, thank you."

She smiled and kissed the little one's cheek before picking the car seat up and handing it to me. "Just let me know."