Infinity. (Infinity Series) (15 page)

After a few minutes, there’s a soft knock on the door, and a young nurse rolls in a plastic bassinet filled with a squirming little blanket. I sit up and fix the back of the bed in an upright position, and adjust my pillows behind me. Then, I flip a spotlight on so I can see my baby girl.

The nurse reaches into the bassinet and cradles my baby against her as she walks her to me. “She’s hungry, and ready for her mama.” She smiles so sweetly that I latch on to her positive energy and try to absorb it.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I state apprehension cutting my voice.

She places her in my arms, and I cradle her tiny body to me. I unbutton the top two buttons on my pajama top, and she helps me position my breast near the baby’s mouth and shows me how I have to entice her to take my nipple.

When she seems to be drifting off to sleep instead of eating, the nurse unwraps her, which angers my little squirming person. As she opens her mouth to let out a big yell, the nurse puts my nipple in my baby’s mouth. Apparently, she got her father’s appetite, because she knows exactly what to do.

The nurse, who I’ve come to find out is named Becca, sits with me while I nurse her. She gives me a tour of the drawers in the bassinet, showing me how to use a blue sucker thing and take care of our baby’s belly button. Becca gives great tips on how to change diapers, and prepares me for what will be happening until I’m released.

I latch on to Becca as if she’s a life preserver. Before she leaves, she writes her name and phone extension on a dry-erase board in my room, and says that I can call her anytime. I no longer feel so alone.

When my sweet baby has taken both breasts, and I’ve burped her like Becca taught me, I place her against my heart, and loosely drape the swaddling blanket over her back.

“Colin, why don’t you come join us in bed and see your daughter? You haven’t held her yet.” He picks his head up, and opens his eyes, giving both of us a haunted stare. He shuffles each foot forward as if they’re made of lead and slides in bed.

I scoot over, making sure that he has enough room. “Would you like to hold her?”

“No. She’s looks comfortable right where she is.” He laughs, but when I look at his face, his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Apparently, she likes your boobs as much as I do.” It might not be a sincere laugh, but it’s music to my ears.

She makes these soft little mewing noises that remind me of Pancho when he’s having a good dream. I wonder if our baby is dreaming right now.

“Her hair is so dark,” Colin comments with a touch of awe in his voice. “I just thought that with our coloring, she’d be a blonde.”

I reach up and pull her little cap off so I can get a better look at her hair. It is very dark. “Who knows? I’ve read that babies lose the hair that they’re born with. It could grow back in blonde.”

The longer we sit next to each other, the more okay he seems to become. I leave her cap off and stroke her hair, hoping to reassure her that she’s got a mom and a dad who love her to pieces.

Colin shifts behind me and uses his left hand, his throwing hand, to touch her for the first time. His long pointer finger moves back and forth over her tiny arm in a stroking motion. He brushes it against her pink cheek. When he moves his finger over her hand, she opens her tiny little fingers and grasps it, holding onto to it for dear life.

That’s when my hulking quarterback breaks. He shifts behind me and wraps one arm around my shoulders in a fierce embrace while his other hand is grasped just as firmly by his daughter. My husband drops his head against my hair, and wracking sobs over take him.

We haven’t slept for more than twenty-four hours, after not sleeping much the forty-eight before that. My husband has experienced the highest high and confronted his worst nightmares in that time period. He’s gotten the titles that he’s wanted most bestowed on him—Super Bowl and MVP-winning quarterback and Daddy—it’s too much.

As his breathing returns to normal, we scoot further into the bed, getting comfortable. That’s when we eventually fall asleep. Colin leaned against the back of the bed, me lying against his chest in between his long legs. His arm is wrapped protectively around me, and resting on my stomach. Our baby is pressed against my heart, in between my ample cleavage, clutching her daddy’s finger.

Colin

“Colin, I need to speak to you,” Jamie says when I answer my phone. After a brief pause, he adds, “Alone.”

Charlie’s on her morning run, or should I say, walk. I thought her boobs were huge when she was pregnant. Then her milk came in, and they doubled in size. They dwarf the baby’s head. Charlie says that they’re too heavy right now for her to jog, so she’s just been walking around our secured, gated neighborhood, while I have alone time with my angel and spoil her the fuck rotten.

“Sure,” I reply, instantly filled with dread. Anytime Jamie wants to talk to me alone, something bad has happened. “Charlie’s out for a walk. I’ll come to the pool house.”

I place Charlotte in her baby carrier and buckle her in, just in case. I know that we’re only walking about forty yards, but I take no chances with her.

Charlotte is not her actual name. It’s just what I refer to her as. Charlie and I have the distinction of being the only patients of Doctor Starr’s that have left the hospital without giving their child a name. We’ve been home for two weeks today, and we’re no closer. There hasn’t been any screaming and yelling over baby names. No. This is more passive-aggressive guerrilla warfare.

I shake my head at the sight of us. “Alone” these days is defined at Charlotte in my arms and Pancho on my left side.

When I enter the pool house Jamie has a grim look on his face, and two men in dark suits are standing beside him. Instantly, my stomach fills with dread.
Is this about the sip-and-see?
Today, we have a meet-the-baby party, or some shit like that. All I know is that Jamie has been less than thrilled with the idea of fifty of our closest friends converging on our home.

We haven’t allowed any visitors, much to the chagrin of the new grandmothers. Yes. It means that no one but the two of us have held our baby. It’s been too much. We’ve taken these two weeks since Charlotte was born to just be. I needed this time to come to terms with being a Super Bowl MVP and Daddy. I also needed to forgive Charlie for not telling me she was in labor, and my jealousy over another man being the one to take care of her. The what-if scenarios that have run through my mind are enough to add to the nightmares that I now have every night, but I’m finally coming to terms with the past. Staying mad at Charlie and jealous of Brad gets me nowhere except in a shitty mood, and I don’t want my daughter to feel anything but love from me. All is forgiven, but definitely not forgotten.

I place Charlotte, in her carrier on the couch in the pool house, and Pancho jumps up to lie next to her.
That’s my boy. Always watching out for his baby sister.

“I’m assuming the guys in suits aren’t here to discuss the menu for the party today?”

Jamie ignores my comment and nods to one of the suits. “Mr. McKinney, I’m Agent Dunham with the FBI. Unfortunately, this is not a social call to congratulate you on your Super Bowl win and new baby.”

I figured as much, but my heart rate still elevates as I ponder his intentions.

“What we believe to be a credible threat made against you and your family has landed on my desk.” I drop to the couch next to Charlotte and cradle the carrier to my side.

“A man stated that he was going to kidnap your newborn and wife, and hold them for ransom.” His tone is even with a hint of apology thrown in for good measure.

I almost roll my eyes as my heart beats its way to normal at this guy’s big revelation. Kidnapping threats made against me, my wife, and now my daughter are a weekly occurrence. Usually, it’s some hard-up drug addict who needs a few bucks for his next high. They make the statement being a verbose asshole, and someone reports them. Then I spend a couple of thousands of dollars proving that the guy is indeed full of shit. Legitimate threats have been made in the past, and those are the ones that cause my nightmares, but they are few and far between.

Agent Dunham continues, “Jamie has made us aware that since you announced that you’re married and having a baby that the threats have more than doubled. The reason that we’re taking this particular one seriously is because a man fitting the description of the person who bragged about kidnapping your wife and child attempted to enter your gated neighborhood yesterday.”

My palms become sweaty, and I rub my fingertips over Charlotte’s soft hair, reassuring myself that she’s okay. Any momentary calm I just experienced is completely gone. I swallow the extra spit in my mouth and ask the next logical question. “Was he arrested?”

Jamie, glances at Agent Dunham and the other suit, and then speaks looking, very guilty. “You see, Mr. McKinney, we didn’t know about this possible threat, so we turned the guy away, assuming he was paparazzi. However, my guy has given the FBI a description, and we recorded the van’s license plate which, of course, has been turned over.”

Van? Some sick fuck had a van to kidnap my family.

“Mr. McKinney, we’re taking this attempt very seriously. With your private security team’s great work, we should have the guy in custody soon.” Agent Dunham reassures me.

Standing up, I begin to pace. This is more than I can take. Charlie needs to get home, now. I grab my daughter’s carrier and whistle for Pancho. “Sounds like you guys are on it. Thank you.” Then to Jamie, I turn and say, “Keep me posted.”

I can’t escape the pool house quickly enough. I almost sprint Charlotte into the master bedroom, sinking down into the plush cushion of the red college chair.
This is our safe place.

Immediately, I unstrap my baby girl and lift her to my chest, cradling her sleeping body against me. I’m half surprised my racing heart doesn’t wake her. I feel sick to my stomach.
A kidnapper almost gained access to my family.

The only thing that keeps me from seriously losing my shit is the less than ten-pound angel in my arms. She needs a daddy who’s strong, and fights for her. That means that when Charlie returns from her walk, she’s not going to know any of this is going on. It means my daughter will never live in fear, imprisoned because of my career.

I give myself a mental pep talk about being a man, and the head of this family. A man protects his wife and child. I’ll tell Charlie once the bastard has been arrested, and not before. I’m not ready for the bullshit that surrounds us to intrude in our bubble we’ve been living in since Charlotte came home from the hospital.

As the minutes tick by, I actually start believing what I’m selling myself. Denial is a beautiful thing. Today, is the day my daughter will be introduced to all the people who deeply love her. It will not be clouded with my real world problems.

I have to trust Jamie to do the job that I handsomely pay him to perform.

I glance around our bedroom, noting that it appears that a baby-store bomb went off in here. The sitting area has been turned into a temporary nursery. I had Jenny move all the furniture except for the red college chair into storage. Brad and Charlie’s sisters took my credit card and went on a baby shopping-spree. I swear our baby has more crap than me and Charlie combined.

When Charlie returns home, we have important things to do today, like naming our kid, and not worrying about all the sick fucks in the world.

Let Jamie and the FBI do what they do best—catch the bad guys.

We plan to announce her name at the party. But first, we’ve got to decide on said name. Today, is the deadline that we set for ourselves. I have a feeling that this battle might be one of our ugliest.

Charlie made the first shot across the bow by dressing her in Dallas Cowboy footed-pajamas. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I recognize this for what it is. Charlie’s manipulative attempt to get her way. She thinks that I’ll be distracted by our daughter’s cuteness, in my team colors so I won’t notice when she writes down the name of her choice. I’ve been bamboozled before by the likes of Doctor Collins (should be McKinney). I retaliated a bit with the baby’s car, but in my defense, that car was bought with my family’s safety in mind. I will not be manipulated when it comes to naming our daughter.

Who knew naming a kid could be this difficult? Or maybe we’re the two most stubborn people in the world? Charlie may be, but I’m not.

Charlotte and I two-step into the living room as I sing her an old George Strait song. I don’t know any lullabies, so I assume that old country is just as good as anything. Charlie bought me this harness-like thing to put Charlotte in so I can carry her and still use both hands, but it sucks. My baby knows who her daddy is, and she likes to snuggle into my chest hair, not against some padded material.

Dear God, I’m grateful we live inside the gated neighborhood, and my security team is so good.

“We’re in here,” I yell when I hear the backdoor slam. “And I think Charlotte is ready to eat.” She makes the cutest little sucking face when she’s hungry.

“Tell Elizabeth that I’ll be right there,” Charlie says. I hear the refrigerator door close. Hopefully, she’s eating something. I’ve been watching her like a hawk to make sure that she has a balanced diet. Doctor Starr put Charlie on an antidepressant as a precautionary measure against postpartum depression before we left the hospital. She talked to both of us about how pregnancy is a huge trigger for Charlie’s disease. I encouraged Charlie to take it. We agreed on a six-week timeframe, and then she can reevaluate with Doctors Benson and Starr.

I watch her walk into the living room, looking like a porn star. Her tits are huge, and further accentuated by the tight maternity sports bra that she’s wearing. I don’t know if my cock can take four more weeks of this dick tease until we can resume showing how much we love each other. Charlie and I need the physical connection to know that we’re okay.