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Carmen made Rafael sit down before deposing her newborn very carefully in the crook of his arm. He looked equally awed and terrified by the experience, but Laura was secure in his arms, and Carmen felt confident enough to step out and go prepare her bottle.
“Wait, where are you going?”
There was definitely an undercurrent of panic in her boss’s voice, and Carmen swallowed a smile before she answered. “It’s nearly time for her next lunch, and I need to prepare her bottle.”
“I thought you wanted to breastfeed.”
Her smile slipped. “I can’t,” she said flatly. It was a sore point, because she had wanted that experience very much, especially since Rafael had been very accommodating and had promised her the use of his own office every time she needed privacy, but she couldn’t, so she pumped what little milk she had and completed with formula, which wasn’t the stuff of the Devil, whatever the LaLeche woman had said.
Rafael looked stricken. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sorry, too, and she smiled at him to show him she didn’t hold it against him.
When she came back from the breakroom, warm bottle in hand, she could hear her daughter’s cries through the hallways. Carmen hurried up, bursting through the door of the office and stopping at the spectacle inside.
Rafael was looking panicked, trying fruitlessly to bounce Laura a little, and alternating reassuring words in English and a soft lullaby in Spanish. Laura was not responding to any of it, crying louder as she became more hungry and frustrated.
He looked up and saw her, and his face betrayed so much relief she was tempted to laugh. He tried to hand her the baby, but Carmen gave him the bottle instead.
“Keep her head slightly elevated and make sure the nipple doesn’t contain air.”
Rafael looked at her a little wild-eyed, but he obeyed without question. There was a moment of confusion as he moved, but soon enough Laura was sitting on his lap with her head in the crook of his elbow, vigorously sucking on the nipple.
“Are you going to make me change her nappies, too?” he asked.
Carmen took out her phone and snapped a picture. She shared it with her mother, and, after a moment’s reflection, with Detective Carisi.
“You need the experience,” she said.
Rafael made a face at her. “I don’t understand why you think I need to know this stuff. I mean, I don’t mind—”
“Detective Carisi wants children.”
Her phone chimed a notification. It was Detective Carisi answering with a heart-eyed emoji. Carmen had known he would appreciate the picture properly.
“How does that concern me?” Rafael protested. “I don’t plan to babysit Detective Carisi’s future kids.”
Men. Seriously. Did he think she was blind? She gave him a flat look.
“It’s not called babysitting when it’s your own children.”
Rafael turned red. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” he mumbled, looking away.
She rolled her eyes. As if she couldn’t recognize the signs in her lovesick boss. Not that Detective Carisi was any better. At some point they probably would buy a clue about each other, especially if she had her say.
In the meantime… Carmen unfolded a clean towel and draped it over Rafael’s shoulder before showing him how to properly burp a baby. Later, she would make him change Laura’s nappy and send the pictures to Detective Carisi.