Baby Mommas (Neeson Girls Book 1) Read online

  I sat back in my seat, my thoughts whirling.

  The worst of it was, I still hadn’t managed to get a damn drink.

  6

  Faye

  Some lesbians were interested in straight women. A small, strange minority even fetishized the idea.

  For whatever reason, they liked fantasizing about someone they could never have. Forbidden fruit was always sweeter, wasn’t it? Or perhaps some internalized homophobia stopped them from seeking out a real, healthy relationship. If they were only into straight girls, they’d never find an actual partner.

  In any case, there was little point to me psychoanalyzing those types of women. Fact was, I’d never been one of them.

  When it came to romance, I looked past heterosexuals as if they weren’t even there. Why waste my time? Sure, there’d been a few schoolgirl crushes in my younger days, but I’d grown out of those as soon as I got to college and began meeting other out-and-proud women like me.

  Not that I met them all that often… but I dated here and there. I’d gotten myself into that relationship with Brenda, ill-fated as it was. No, I hadn’t been on a date in the months since. The way it’d ended had soured me on relationships in general.

  But as I was saying, lesbians and bisexual women were around. Absent any evidence to the contrary, I assumed any woman I met was not one of them.

  There were all types of hints, if you knew what to watch for. A masculine way of dressing. An avoidance of pronouns when talking about their past. A rainbow flag pinned to a backpack.

  Jaz Neeson had exhibited none of those signs, so she’d never been on my radar. I’d never seen her as anything but a student—and a flaky, maybe-not-too-smart one at that.

  Now that I knew she was playing for my team, though?

  All bets were off.

  Which was why I didn’t call her for the entire weekend. I could’ve used the babysitting, since I still didn’t have the gift of shutting Gretchen up and the two-hour car ride to Sargasso was hell with an infant caterwauling the entire way. It even would’ve been nice to have some company when, after covering every inch of my hometown and interrogating everyone I could find, there was still no sign of Amanda.

  My best lead came from the waitress at the diner where I’d stopped for lunch. She’d been in my sister’s grade in high school, and she’d heard some rumors about Amanda moving to the other end of the state. My best guess was that she was talking about Johnston, where Amanda had lived with her ex. I intended to go there next weekend and see what I could dig up.

  Meanwhile, one of Amanda’s old friends had a toddler and was vehement that she was never going through that again. Against my protests that I wasn’t keeping Gretchen, she’d loaded a few boxes of baby stuff into my car. That was nice, I supposed, just thoroughly unnecessary.

  In any case, I’d been thinking of Jaz in a whole new way over the past couple days, and that really wasn’t a good thing while I was a professor and she was a student. Especially when I was supervising her thesis. And the whole free babysitting thing didn’t exactly make things any less complicated.

  Which was why on Monday morning, when she arrived at my office to pick Gretchen up, I folded my hands on my desk and said, “We need to talk.”

  “What is it?”

  I took a moment to respond, in which time she squirmed adorably in her seat. Her blue eyes looked bigger than usual. More innocent. And as I stared into them, I wondered why they kept drifting down to my lips.

  “I can’t be your thesis supervisor anymore.”

  Jaz’s face fell. I mean, it literally looked like she was about to start blubbering. “Have I not been working hard enough? I know I didn’t get a lot done before our last meeting, but—” was that a sniff? “—I did prepare some stuff for today.” She patted her backpack.

  Way to sound like the world’s biggest jerk, Faye. “That’s not it. And I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t gotten anything done this week. You’ve been busy.”

  “I have, but I still want to work on my thesis.” She cleared her throat. “With you.”

  I pulled Gretchen’s knit hat a little farther over her ears. “All things considered, I think it would be a better idea for you to work with someone else. I’ve already spoken to Dr. O’Neill. He already has a few masters’ students this year, but he likes the sound of your research, and of course he knows you from your TA duties. He’s willing to take you on.”

  “I…” Jaz bit a pink lip. “I guess I can work with him instead.”

  “Great. I’ve already set up a meeting for you two. Visit his office today at three.” I pushed a slip of paper with his office number across the table.

  Although Jaz blinked a few times, she took it. “All right. I guess I—I’ll take Gretchen now.”

  Instead of handing her over, I hugged her to me. “That’s another thing. The babysitting…”

  “Am I not doing well enough?” Jaz asked anxiously. “I’ve never had a complaint before. Of course newborns take a lot of specialized care, and if you’d rather go to a professional, I understand completely. I—”

  I cut her off. “You’re doing great. I’m just not comfortable with the situation.”

  “So you found somebody else?”

  “No, Jaz, you’re not listening to me.”

  My harshness made her recoil, and even Gretchen gave a little groan as if she’d caught the sudden shift in the room’s mood. My heart immediately went out to Jaz. She was too sweet for me to snap at her like that.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to pay you.”

  “To pay me!” She threw her head back and laughed. “I guess I can live with that. As much as I adore Gretchen, I can only do so much as a favor.”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Gretchen’s squinty eyes opened and closed, and I tapped her nose absent-mindedly as I spoke. “How does twenty an hour sound?”

  Jaz’s jaw dropped open. “That’s way too much, unless you’re talking about twenty cents! You know I’m happy to hang out with her for free. I was thinking about getting a pet anyway.”

  I gave her an odd look. “Twenty an hour is too much for you?”

  “I couldn’t take it,” she said. “Twenty a day would be more likely.”

  “Twenty a day? Not a chance. I’ve got you looking after her for hours on end. Favors are one thing, but I won’t have you working at slave-labor prices.” I bounced Gretchen on my knee. “Eighteen an hour, and that’s my final offer.”

  “She’s not even your kid,” Jaz said. “You don’t actually want her. You can’t afford that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can afford.”

  She snorted. “I’ve seen your car. And your place. There’s no way you can spare…” She counted on her fingers. “Three hundred-something bucks a week. Nope. Twenty-five a day, and that’s my final offer.”

  I glared at her. “Fifty an hour.”

  “Sold!”

  I pushed my glasses up to rub my temples. Was Jaz fucking with my mind the whole time, trying to make me give her more? Had I fallen straight into her trap? I definitely couldn’t afford fifty an—

  “I’m messing with you,” Jaz said, leaning over to give me a shove on the shoulder—a touch that left me slightly breathless. “Can we go with minimum wage? That way I won’t be ripping you off, but it won’t be slave labor either.”

  I let out a breath. “That would work.” Passing Gretchen to her, I added, “But I can also supplement that wage with unofficial advice on your thesis… if you want it.”

  It was weird, I’d seen them together a hundred times before… but today the sight of Jaz cradling Gretchen made me melt a little. When she brushed an eyelash off that baby’s chubby cheek, I thought I might actually coo out loud.

  “That sounds great,” she said, hooking the baby sling around her neck. “Maybe over a beer, if it’s unofficial.”

  She wasn’t asking me on a date. I didn’t want it to be a date.

 
“Let’s say Friday night,” I said. “I’m buying.”

  * * *

  I tried my best to focus on Gretchen instead of Jaz that week. Not hard considering she demanded a lot of attention. This whole baby thing was a lot of work, to say the least.

  Bye-bye to full nights of sleep. Farewell to clothes without spit-up on them. Toodles to having any approximation of a social life.

  Gretchen was always there. Crying, screaming, eating, needing.

  When I could hand her off to Jaz, it was like taking a weight off my shoulders. I didn’t know what I would’ve done without her.

  She did more than just carting her off while I worked. She stuck around after, holding my hand—figuratively—as I figured out just how I was supposed to keep this tiny human alive and in good spirits.

  There didn’t seem to be an infant care instruction manual. Google helped, but not enough.

  With the Internet, I’d managed to get food into Gretchen… but half the formula had ended up on the floor. Jaz showed me how to get a majority of it into her stomach.

  Bathing? If it were me alone, she’d’ve gone without a bath for a solid month before I thought of it. When I ran to Jaz in a panic, asking if babies too little to sweat still needed to bathe, she laughed at me and said she’d been giving Gretchen baths. Then she took me to the restroom sink and taught me I could, too.

  As for soothing, Jaz still had me beat there. As far as I could tell, her ability to calm that kid down was nothing short of magic.

  But I was getting better. I learned to change a diaper without decorating the walls with baby poop. I figured out how to get things done while Gretchen was napping. My sleep schedule was even adjusting to waking up five times a night.

  Slowly, I was getting used to having Gretchen in my life.

  Sometimes I still thought I’d go crazy. Sometimes I still threw up my hands and asked why this had happened to me.

  But slowly, surely, I was figuring out how to handle this.

  * * *

  “What the fuck is the matter with her?” I asked on Thursday night.

  Through the baby’s screams, I could barely hear Jaz’s voice over the phone. “What’s going on, Faye?”

  “I’d tell you if I had a goddamn idea.” I hit the speaker button and threw the phone on the couch. It bounced, landing under the cushion. I pulled it out and threw it down again. “This fucking demon from hell won’t shut the fuck up, and that’s about all I know.”

  So much for handling this. I spoke far too soon. A saint couldn’t handle this. Hell, Jesus Himself couldn’t.

  “Whoa, chill,” Jaz said. “I’ve never heard you this worked up.”

  Did she not hear the ear-splitting sounds that I’d been enduring? How could she tell me to chill?

  “You don’t understand,” I growled. “She’s been going on like this for a goddamn hour.” I readjusted Gretchen in my arms, glaring down at her. “She’s fed. She’s clothed. She’s changed. I’m giving her more than enough attention. What the fuck else could she possibly want?”

  “Okay, just breathe. This happens to everyone.”

  “I don’t care who it happens to! Just tell me how to shut her up.” I bounced Gretchen in my arms. If she didn’t quiet the hell down soon, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  Jaz’s voice drifted up from the phone speakers, infuriatingly calm. “Look, at this point you’re probably making her more upset. She can sense what kind of mood you’re in.”

  “I was in a good mood before she started hollering her head off for no goddamn reason.”

  “Be that as it may… just try talking to her in a soft, soothing voice.”

  Fuck. Was that even possible? This fucking infant had frayed my nerves to the point where soothing her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  And if I sounded like a jerk, well, I was past the point of giving a fuck.

  “Quiet down, stupid child,” I said in a singsong tone.

  “Faye… it might help if you didn’t call her stupid.”

  “She is fucking stupid!” I exploded.

  Jaz laughed. She actually laughed. “Do you need me to come over?”

  For about a millisecond, I considered lashing out at her for implying I couldn’t do this on my own.

  Then I remembered, no—I couldn’t.

  “If you don’t mind,” I said wearily. “I would be so fucking thankful.”

  Fifteen minutes of vociferous screams later, Jaz arrived at my door. She was in pajama pants and a well-worn T-shirt. I looked at my watch. Was it really half past midnight?

  “I’m so sorry,” I told her through the piercing cries Gretchen still emitted from my arms. “I didn’t know I was pulling you out of bed.”

  “Not a problem.” She suppressed a yawn. “You needed me, and I’m here for you.”

  “Let’s see if you’ll cut that out for Jaz, kid.”

  I handed Gretchen to her, and she gave her a quick inspection. I was oddly proud to see she didn’t immediately quiet down and that there was nothing obviously wrong with her. This wasn’t me being a clueless caretaker, it was her being a brat of a baby.

  “Where’s her soother?” Jaz asked.

  “She spat it out. About ten times.”

  I would’ve felt even more satisfied… but I was too tired for that.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” Jaz murmured, jiggling the baby in her arms. “What’s going on, huh? It’s way too early for you to be teething.”

  “Oh, fuck.” I’d forgotten that was a thing. “When’s that going to happen?”

  “When she’s around six months, maybe a little earlier. I hope you’re ready for a lot more sleepless nights.”

  “We’ll see.” Theoretically she’d be long gone by then.

  Jaz shot me an odd glance. Bringing Gretchen to the couch, she swayed her back and forth and began to sing. “Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop…”

  Her voice was clear and low, and I found my own eyes closing at the sound of it. As she went on, Gretchen’s cries slowed until finally they stopped entirely.

  I crept up beside Jaz and pushed the soother into Gretchen’s mouth. She latched onto it and sucked, although her tiny brow was still furrowed.

  Jaz came to the end of the song and looked at me. “You’re a miracle worker,” I told her.

  “I just have practice. That’s all it is.”

  She went to hand Gretchen back to me, but as soon as they broke contact, the soother popped out and Gretchen started up again. As soon as she pulled her back, she went silent.

  “I swear you’re magic. You can go open up my wallet and take whatever’s there. Take my credit cards, too. You deserve it.” Shaking my head, I yawned. Now that Gretchen was somewhat dealt with, exhaustion was hitting me, too. “I wouldn’t be able to talk you into staying over, would I?”

  Jaz’s eyes twinkled. “Asking me to spend the night before we’ve even been on a date? That’s daring… but I’ll take it.”

  My mind raced. Was she joking? Did she think our Friday night beer was actually supposed to be a date? More importantly, did she want it to be one?

  No answers were forthcoming, and my need for sleep overwhelmed me.

  “You and Gretchen take the bed.” I flopped down where I was. “I’ll take the couch.”

  7

  Jaz

  I stuck my hands under the tap and used the water to slick back my hair. The pink strands were usually pretty good about staying out of my face, but the sides were growing out. I needed to get them shaved again soon.

  Maybe combing it would fix the problem. After hoisting Gretchen a little more comfortably against my chest, I took a miniature comb out of my purse to start again.

  A stall door clanged shut behind me, and an undergrad who looked about sixteen stared openly at me as she came up to wash her hands.

  All right, the Beasley library bathroom wasn’t the ideal place to prepare for a non-date. Especially not with a baby bouncing against my chest. But what choice did I have? I’d been
working on my thesis notes all afternoon, and no way was I going to meet the woman of my dreams looking less than perfect.

  I frowned at my reflection. My lip gloss had been licked off and my eyeliner had faded. I reapplied gloss and reached for the eyeliner pencil, nearly jabbing myself in the eye with my attempt to freshen it. Tears came into my eyes as I finished defining my waterline.

  The undergrad stared at me openly as she left the bathroom. Who cares? She’s not the one getting a beer with Dr. Faye Erwin tonight. I waggled my eyebrows at myself… and squinted at my eyeliner again. I’d missed a spot.

  Rolling my eyes, I tapped Gretchen on the forehead. “Doesn’t matter, right, kid? Faye sees me all the time. She already knows what I look like.”

  I turned to leave… except another undergrad came out of the second stall just in time to see the weirdo who’d been talking to herself.

  Oops.

  Well, again, who cared? Only Faye’s opinion counted tonight.

  We hadn’t called it a date, but let’s be real. Two single lesbians meeting for drinks? We’d even spent the night together. And yeah, I was way too excited about being able to say that, considering we’d slept in two separate rooms.

  Still, this was something—especially when we were no longer professionally connected in any capacity.

  Oh, I’d done my research. I’d pored through the university code of conduct and, if I was interpreting the legalese correctly, there was nothing stopping me and Faye from engaging in a relationship at this point. Would it be frowned upon? Sure… but we were both adults, and there was no power differential now that she wasn’t affecting my grades. Plenty of professors dated students.

  As I walked toward the on-campus pub, I told myself not to get my hopes up. The potential for dating didn’t mean there was any actual interest on Faye’s side. As far as I knew, she still only saw me as the dimwitted chick who went all dreamy-eyed whenever she spoke to me.