From Paris With Love Collection. Кэрол Мортимер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Кэрол Мортимер
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474067614
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she have thought about Emmy?

      He shook himself. ‘Do you need it back soon?’

      ‘I’ve read it through cover-to-cover once. But if you could leave it in Tyler’s room or the kitchen when it’s my shift, so I can refer to it if I need to, that’d be really helpful.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Do you mind if I go back to work now and do the washing up later?’

      ‘Sure—and I’m on nights tonight.’

      ‘I would say sleep well, but...’ She shrugged. ‘That’s entirely up to Tyler.’

      ‘Yes.’ And Dylan wasn’t so sure he’d sleep well anyway. He still had to get his head round a lot of things. New responsibilities, having to share his space with someone else when he’d just got used to his bachelor lifestyle, and having a totally new routine for starters. Not to mention that getting to know Emmy was unsettling, because all his preconceptions about her were starting to look wrong. ‘Sleep well,’ he said, and went to settle down with his new reading material.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      THE BABY WOKE at half past three, and the wails coming through the baby listener seemed incredibly loud.

      Dylan surfaced from some weird dream, switched off the baby listener and staggered out into Tyler’s nursery.

      According to what Emmy had told him—and what he’d read last night—screaming meant the baby was dirty, hungry, tired or wanted a cuddle. He picked the baby up and sniffed him. Nothing like yesterday’s appalling whiff, so Tyler didn’t need a nappy change. It was the middle of the night, so he could be tired—but then again, he wouldn’t have woken if he was tired. So was he hungry, or did he just want a cuddle?

      He probably wanted his mum. Though, Tyler was way too little to understand that Ally couldn’t be there for him anymore. Not like Dylan’s mother, who hadn’t been there because she hadn’t wanted to; Tyler had been very much loved by both his parents. And it was wrong, wrong, wrong that they’d died so young.

      The baby nuzzled him.

      Hadn’t Emmy said that was a sign of hunger?

      ‘OK, Ty, food it is,’ he whispered. He took the baby down to the kitchen, managed to switch on the kettle and get the milk out of the fridge, and walked up and down with the baby, stroking his back to sooth him and jiggling him.

      Dear God, why had nobody told him that babies were so loud? If Tyler carried on much longer, Emmy was bound to wake. And that wasn’t fair because this was his shift, not hers, and he should be able to deal with this.

      It seemed to take forever to heat the milk, and Tyler’s wails grew louder and louder. Eventually Dylan managed it and tested the milk against his wrist. It wasn’t as warm as yesterday, but hopefully it would be warm enough to keep the baby happy.

      He sat in the dark while the baby guzzled his milk.

      ‘Better now?’ he asked softly. Not that he was going to get an answer.

      Then he remembered about the burping thing. The last thing he wanted was for the baby to wake again, crying because his tummy hurt. Dylan felt like a zombie as it was. He held Tyler on his shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back, then nearly dropped the baby when he heard a loud burp and felt an immediate gush of liquid over his bare shoulder. What? Why hadn’t Emmy warned him about this? It hadn’t happened last time. Had he done something wrong?

      The baby began to cry again. Oh, hell—the burped-up milk had probably soaked his clothes, too, and he’d be cold. He needed a change of clothes; Dylan couldn’t possibly put him back into his cot in this state.

      Luckily the overhead light in the nursery was on a dimmer switch. Dylan kept it as low as possible, and hunted for clean clothes. Tyler seemed to have grown four extra arms and six extra legs, all of which were invisible, but eventually Dylan managed to get him out of the Babygro.

      The nappy felt heavy; clearly that needed changing, too, before Dylan put clean clothes on the baby. But when he settled Tyler on the changing unit and opened the nappy, the baby promptly peed over him. Dylan jumped back in shock, then dashed forward in horror. This was his first night in charge and he was making a total mess of it. The baby could’ve rolled over and fallen off the changing station and been badly hurt.

      His heart was hammering. Please, no. He’d already lost Pete and Ally; he couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to Tyler. Even though the baby had disrupted his life, even though it panicked him that he didn’t know what he was doing, he was beginning to feel other emotions than just resentment towards Tyler.

      He tried to make light of it, even though he was in a cold sweat. ‘Help me out here, Ty,’ he muttered. ‘I’m new at all this.’

      But finally the baby had a clean nappy and clean clothes. Dylan put him in the cot and made sure the covers were tucked in properly; within seconds Tyler had fallen back to sleep in his usual position with his arms up over his head, looking like a little frog.

      Dylan went back to his room feeling almost hung-over. It was way too late to have a shower; the noise from the water tank would wake Emmy. So he simply sponged off the worst of the milk at the sink in his en-suite, and fell into bed. How did parents of newborns cope with even less sleep than this? he wondered as he sank back into sleep. How had Pete not been a total zombie?

      The next morning, his alarm shrilled at the usual time. Normally Dylan woke before his alarm, whereas today he felt groggy from lack of sleep. He staggered out of bed and showered; he didn’t feel much better afterwards, though at least he didn’t smell of burped-up milk anymore.

      He went to the nursery to look in on Tyler. The baby was asleep in his cot, looking angelic. ‘It’s all right for some,’ Dylan said wryly. ‘I could do with a nap. So have an extra one for me.’

      He dragged himself downstairs. Was it his imagination, or could he smell coffee?

      Emmy was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of coffee. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him. ‘Rough night?’ she asked.

      ‘Apart from Ty throwing up half the milk over me and then peeing over me...’

      She burst out laughing and he glared at her. ‘It’s not funny.’

      ‘Yes, it is.’

      ‘You could’ve warned me he’d do that.’

      She spread her hands. ‘To be fair, he hasn’t actually done that to me. But Ally told me he once did it to Pete.’

      ‘Just don’t tell me it’s a male bonding thing,’ he grumbled.

      ‘And I thought you were supposed to be a morning person.’ She laughed, and poured him a mug of coffee. ‘Here. This might help.’

      ‘Thanks. I think.’ He took a sip. ‘I was useless last night. I nearly let him fall off the changing station.’

      She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure you didn’t.’

      ‘I jumped back from him when he peed on me.’

      ‘Which is a natural reaction, and you would’ve been there to stop him if he’d started to roll.’

      It still made him go cold, how close it had been. ‘Can he roll over?’

      ‘Yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Stop panicking, Dylan. You know what to expect now. You won’t let him fall.’

      How could she have so much confidence in him, when he had absolutely none in himself? And what had happened to her, anyway? The Emmy Jacobs he knew would’ve sniped about him not being good enough. This Emmy was surprisingly supportive. Which made him feel even more adrift. He was used to being in charge and knowing exactly what he was doing. Right now, he was winging it, and he hated feeling so useless.

      He covered up his feelings by saying, ‘I