‘That’s so flaky,’ Dylan said. ‘There’s no scientific proof that it works.’
‘I don’t care. It’s worth a try.’ When he continued to look sceptical, she said, ‘We have to do something, Dylan. I mean, I know we’re taking alternate nights to go in to him—but when he wakes up, he’s yelling loudly enough to wake whoever’s not on duty.’
‘I guess so.’
‘I don’t know about you, but I feel like a zombie.’ She couldn’t help yawning.
‘Me, too,’ he admitted. ‘OK. Try the lavender oil.’
But it didn’t work.
The next day, Emmy made an appointment with the health visitor. ‘We might have a solution,’ she told Dylan when he came home. ‘Ally’s health visitor says either he’s starting to cut teeth, or he’s ready to start solid food.’
‘So what do we do now? Buy jars of stuff?’ Dylan asked.
Emmy shook her head. ‘We start with baby rice and mix it with his milk—so then the taste is quite near what he’s used to.’ She produced a packet of organic baby rice she’d bought at the supermarket on the way home from seeing the health visitor. ‘So let’s do this.’
Dylan read out the instructions from the back of the packet, and Emmy followed them.
‘It doesn’t look much,’ Dylan said doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you measured out the right amount?’
‘I did what you read out,’ she said, and sat down with Tyler. She put a tiny amount of the rice on the end of the spoon. ‘Come on, sweetie, just one little mouthful,’ she coaxed, and put the spoon into Tyler’s open mouth.
The result was baby rice spattered all over her.
Dylan smothered a laugh. ‘Sorry. But...’
‘I look ridiculous. I know.’
‘Let me see if I can persuade him to try it,’ Dylan suggested.
But he got nowhere, either.
He looked at Emmy. ‘So, Ally didn’t do any of this with him?’
Emmy thought about it. ‘She did talk about weaning him. She said she was planning to start—’ she gulped ‘—when she got back from Venice.’
But that moment was never to happen.
Dylan patted her shoulder briefly in sympathy, then grabbed a paper towel, wetted it under the tap, and wiped the spattered baby rice from her face.
She gave him a wry smile. ‘I’m glad you used water on that paper towel before you wiped my face.’
‘A dry towel wouldn’t have got it off.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’
‘I mean, I’m glad that you used water and not spit.’
She saw the second the penny dropped. ‘That’s really gross!’ But he laughed.
‘It’s what my mum used to do,’ she said with a grin. ‘Didn’t yours?’
‘No.’ His tone was short and his smile faded.
What was Dylan’s issue with his mum? Emmy wondered. Was he not close to her? Was that why he kept people at a distance?
He switched the subject by tasting the rice. ‘I think I know why he’s spitting it out.’
‘Why?’
‘Try it.’
She did. ‘It’s tasteless. Bland.’ She grimaced. ‘But I guess it’s about getting him used to texture rather than taste.’
‘So we’ll have to keep going.’
* * *
They muddled through the next few days, and finally Emmy cheered. ‘Yay! He’s actually eating it.’
She put up a hand to high-five Dylan. He paused—but then he surprised her by high-fiving her. ‘Result.’
‘The Baby Bible says we should introduce one new food at a time, leaving three or four days in between, so we can spot any food allergies,’ Emmy said later that evening. ‘They say it’s good to start with carrots—so I’ll steam some and purée them for him tomorrow night.’
The carrots went down as badly as the baby rice had the previous week.
‘It’s a new taste. It took a couple of days with the baby rice, so we’ll have to just persevere,’ Dylan said. He scooped Tyler out of his high chair. ‘And I will clean up this little one while you, um...’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘While you de-carrot yourself.’
‘I am so wearing an apron, next time I try and get him to eat solids,’ Emmy said. ‘Thanks. I need to change.’
But when she came out of the bedroom, she saw Dylan coming out of the bathroom wearing just his jeans and no shirt, with the baby cradled in his arms.
‘Did you get splashed?’ she asked.
‘Just a bit.’ He grinned at her.
Oh, help. Her mouth had gone dry. She knew he went to the gym regularly, but she’d had no idea how perfect his musculature was. That he had a six-pack and well-shaped arms.
And she really hadn’t expected to feel this surge of attraction to a man who’d always been prickly and standoffish with her, and sometimes downright rude.
Then again, she had a rubbish choice in men. She’d picked loser after loser who’d let her down and made her feel like the most unattractive woman in the universe. OK, Dylan wasn’t a loser, and he wasn’t the stuffy killjoy she’d also thought him; but he was the last person she could get into a relationship with. Her relationships never lasted, and Tyler would be the one who paid the price when it all went wrong. She couldn’t do that to the baby, especially as he’d already lost so much. So instead she made a light, anodyne comment, let Dylan put Tyler to bed, and fled to the safety of her workbench. Working on an intricate piece would take all of her mental energy, and she wouldn’t have enough space left to think about Dylan. To dream about something that just couldn’t happen.
* * *
The next night, Tyler woke an hour after she put him to bed, and started crying.
She groaned. ‘I’m rubbish at this parenting business. He’s never going to sleep again.’
Dylan followed her up to his room. ‘The book said babies cry because they need a nappy change, they’re hungry, they’re tired, they’re bored, or they want a cuddle.’
‘I’ve fed him, and he’s had more solids today, so I don’t think he’s hungry. He’s clean and dry, so it’s not that. I don’t think he’s bored. But this isn’t the same cry as when he’s tired or wants a cuddle.’ She bit her lip. ‘I think I might need to call Mum.’
‘Wait a second. Do you think he’s teething?’ Dylan asked. ‘Didn’t the health visitor say something about that?’
Emmy frowned. ‘His face is red, so he might be. Give him a cuddle for a second, will you, while I wash my hands? Then I can check his mouth.’
Dylan held the baby until she came back with clean hands. She put her finger into Tyler’s mouth and rubbed it gently over his gums. ‘I can’t feel anything—but, ow, his jaws are strong.’
Tyler was still crying.
‘What are we going to do, Dylan?’
He grimaced. ‘I was reading something the other day about you have to let them lie there and cry so they get used to falling asleep on