She looked nothing like a billionaire and everything like every other new parent Noah had ever seen. I’m a terrible mother, Victoria said without preamble. I can’t even keep him calm for one night. You’re not a terrible mother. You’re a tired mother of a 3-week old. That’s different. Noah came inside and heard Lucas’s angry whales from upstairs.
Let me try something. Victoria followed him to the nursery where Lucas was red-faced and furious in his bassinet. Noah picked him up, settled the baby against his shoulder, and started walking in slow circles while making a low shushing sound. That’s what you’ve been doing, Victoria protested.
Yeah, but I’ve got the magic touch, Noah said lightly. years of practice. It took 15 minutes, but Lucas eventually quieted, his screams fading to hiccups and then to silence as he fell asleep against Noah’s chest. Victoria stared at them with an expression Noah couldn’t read. How did you do that? See, I didn’t do anything special.
He just wore himself out. Noah carefully transferred Lucas back to the bassinet. The baby stirred but didn’t wake. Sometimes they just need to cry it out a little. Well, all the books say you’re not supposed to let them cry. All the books were written by people who probably had nannies and full-time help. Real parents do what works.
Noah looked at Victoria and saw she was shaking. When’s the last time you slept? I don’t know. Yesterday, maybe the day before. Okay, you’re going to bed now. I can’t. What if he wakes up again? Then I’ll handle it. I’m staying tonight. Well, Noah steered her toward the door. No arguments. You’re running on fumes and you’re going to make yourself sick.
Victoria looked like she wanted to protest, but exhaustion won. Looked like she she let Noah guide her to her bedroom, and she was asleep within minutes of lying down. Noah spent the rest of the night in the nursery, dozing in the rocking chair between Lucas’s wakeups. The baby only needed one more feeding before dawn, and Noah managed it with the bottles Victoria had prepared.
When Victoria woke around 8, she found Noah and Lucas in the kitchen. Noah was making coffee one-handed while holding the baby against his shoulder. You stayed all night. Told you I would. Victoria’s eyes filled with tears. I don’t know how to do this. Everyone thinks I’m so capable, so in control, but I can’t even handle one tiny baby without falling apart.
Noah handed her a mug of coffee. Welcome to parenthood. It kicks everyone’s ass equally, regardless of bank account. You made it look easy with Emma B. I promise you it wasn’t. I cried in the bathroom at least once a week for the first 6 months after Sarah died. Emma had collic and I had no idea what I was doing. Noah adjusted Lucas in his arms.
The difference is I didn’t have anyone watching or judging. You’ve got photographers trying to get pictures through your fence and employees who think you should be handling everything perfectly. I hate it. I know. But you’re not alone this time. You’ve got help. You’ve got me.
Victoria looked at him over the rim of her coffee mug. Why are you doing this? Because I care about you. Both of you. Noah, I know we haven’t talked about what happened at Christmas. I know this is complicated, but right now that doesn’t matter. What matters is you need help, and I’m offering it. Noah met her eyes steadily.
No strings attached, no expectations, just one parent helping another. Victoria sat down her coffee and crossed the kitchen. She took Lucas from Noah’s arms, cradling her son close, then leaned in and kissed Noah softly. Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. Noah wanted to say something meaningful, but Lucas chose that moment to spit up all over Victoria’s shoulder, and the moment dissolved into laughter and the practical chaos of cleaning up baby vomit.
The pattern established itself over the following weeks. Noah would go to the office during the day while Victoria stayed home with Lucas. Then, he’d come over after picking Emma up from school. Emma had instantly fallen in love with the baby, treating him like a living doll she was allowed to hold and help with. “He’s so tiny,” Emma breathed, watching Lucas sleep in his bassinet.
“Was I this tiny?” “Even tinier,” Noah said. “You were 6 lb 2 oz.” “Lucas is 6 lb 8.” “I was smaller than him.” Emma looked delighted by this information. Mom said I was strong, though. She said I came out fighting. Noah’s chest tightened. Sarah had said that in the delivery room when the nurses placed Emma on her chest for the first time. She was right.
You’ve always been a fighter. Emma was quiet for a moment, watching Lucas’s tiny chest rise and fall. Do you think mom would have liked Victoria? The question caught Noah offguard. What makes you ask that? Because you like her. I can tell. You get smiley when she texts you. Emma looked up at him seriously. And Victoria makes you happy.
You’re not as sad anymore. Noah hadn’t realized he’d been transparent enough for a 9-year-old to notice. Yeah, sweetheart. I think your mom would have liked her. Good, because I like her, too. And Lucas needs a big sister, even if I’m not his real sister. You can be whatever kind of sister you want to be. Trish.
