She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 200

(Chase)

I wake at six.

For a second I don't know where I am.

Then I remember.

Spare room at Natasha's.

The extra blanket she gave me last night pulled up to my chest the way I left it.

The monitor on the dresser shows Lily on her back, awake.

Hands in the air, batting at nothing.

She's been up about a minute. Hasn't started fussing yet. That'll come in three.

I lie still and listen for Natasha moving.

Nothing.

I count to thirty.

Still nothing.

I get up. In last night's clothes minus the jacket.

I walk out in my socks. Don't want to wake her if she's actually asleep.

Lily sees me come in and does the surprised face she does for everyone these mornings.

Wide eyes, open mouth, full-body wriggle.

Then she remembers she's annoyed about something and gives me the look that means, food, sir.

"Morning."

I lift her out.

She’s heavier this week than last.

She’s heavier every week than last.

It’s equal measures wonderful and frightening.

Diaper change first which she barely tolerates, then we head downstairs to the kitchen.

Lily goes into her high chair willingly. She knows food will be forthcoming.

There’s a bottle in the fridge which I put in the warmer for five minutes while I tie a bib around her neck and pour some rice cereal into a bowl.

The bottle warmer is a thing I learned how to use in the first month of custody and I am proud of knowing how to use it.

The bar is low. I'm aware.

Eating solids is fairly new and not always equally successful.

Once we’re both well-splattered with the sticky cereal, I let her grab the bottle and drink the rest of her milk.

I sit on the stool next to the high chair and let her get on with it.

She watches me as she swallows happily.

Trust without consideration.

The look that’s been disassembling me since the first time I held her.

Coffee.

The machine is the kind that does it all for you and is a little judgmental about how.

I press the wrong button. It refuses to do anything for a while, judging me unworthy, before it finally forgives my idiocy and produces coffee.

I get out two mugs and set them on the counter.

Natasha’s is the one with the chipped handle that she loves.

Mine is a newer one that's somehow ended up in regular rotation.

I have, I realize, a mug in this house.

Lily finishes the bottle and I burp her.

She rewards me with a wet patch on my collarbone. Fair trade.

I put her on the floor on the mat with the rings.

She rolls onto her stomach immediately. Pushes up on her arms. Looks at me like, look at this. Are you looking at this?

I look and tell her what a marvel she is.

She accepts the validation.

After thinking for a minute I decide to surprise Natasha with breakfast.

Not cereal.

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