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Everything in the McAllen’s cottage was in disarray, and Felix didn’t have enough hours in the day or enough energy in his body to fix them all, so he sat at their table, hands folded in his arm, trembling slightly, stress paralyzing.
“No need to be so morose.” Violet’s eyes were twinkling as they only did when someone else was suffering. “Why can’t you just cope, Fe?”
“You’re so mean,” he mumbled.
“You are.” Ivy glared at Violet, though she wasn’t helping her purpled, screaming baby practically falling out of her arms.
“Ivy, let me take her,” he said swiftly.
“Really? I thought you—”
“Please?”
He was passed one of her two babies—he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to know which. He straightened her dress and held her properly, rocking her gently until her screams diminished. He smiled. “See? Nothing to it.”
Shock colored Ivy’s face. He was glad to have surprised her for once.
He shifted the baby securely in his arms, the way a baby ought to be held, and looked down at her little face, which was losing its bright colors in favor of a rosy pink. She was warm and just slightly heavy, and her eyes opened, an incandescent blue. “Hello, little one,” he breathed. “How are you?”
“Quite maternal, isn’t he?” Violet commented mockingly, and the conversation buzzed around him while Felix held the baby and whispered soft things to her that he couldn’t tell anyone else.