Chapter 37: Damian
It's been four weeks since Abigail was born and our life now revolves around a recently weighed in seven-pound ten-ounce bundle of fluff. Her feeding schedule gives us about two and a half contented hours and then she turns into a devil child.
Little in our lives is the same. Even the smell of the penthouse has taken on the perfumed baby odor that now clings to us. My mother told me it's a combination of baby shit and baby vomit that makes the scent. I have my doubts but who am I to disagree with a woman especially a mother.
Abigail's eyes are going from blue to green like Lydia's and her hair is growing curlier, thicker, and a more defined red. She follows her admirers with large eyes and graces them with quick smiles and contented gurgles when we least expect it. Our lives have changed for the better and I want a penthouse full of the little rascals.
Today, I have the pleasure of spending the next hour alone with her highness while Lydia goes to the gym to work out for the first time since Abby's birth. I've got this. Dad's don't get enough credit but I will show everyone that this Dom can handle a pint-sized baby.
Lydia picks up her gym bag and I give her another quick lecture, "Do not overdo it and that's an order," I tell her with the sternest expression I can muster.
"Yes, Daddy," she says huskily. I don't miss her smirk either.
I give my customary growl because she knows she's pushing my buttons by calling me Daddy after I give her an order. Someone has unending punishments coming soon.
After Lydia takes off, Abigail's head rests on my shoulder so I can burp her. Lydia fed her highness right before she left and I'm being the good daddy as I've been shown. Samson paces beside me as I cross the room and turn back to repeat my carpet march waiting for the required belch.
Finally, her highness gives an unladylike burp and we're able to sit on the couch while I lightly bounce Abby up and down on my lap. She's slightly fussy and usually bouncing calms her. Samson stays on guard and keeps a close eye on his baby much like a mother lion. We're both good with our parental duties until a gallon of curdled milk spews from Abigail's dainty mouth. It's an entire ocean of questionable content. I may need to disagree with my mother after all. This is not the smell I enjoy in my penthouse.
"Damn," I whisper with emphasis and glance around the room looking for help. Samson, the traitor, takes a few steps back. There's nothing in the immediate vicinity to wipe off the aftereffects of a baby volcano. "Damn," I say again a little louder. It's either my tone or volume that sets Abigail off. A few whimpers turn to screams within thirty seconds. Of course Samson doesn't help and his short whines go into full on howls to rival Abby's screams.
I stare at the dog with my best Dom eyes. "Really, you think you're helping?" Samson steps forward and sniffs the curdled milk. Before I can stop him, he slurps up a large section of chunky regurgitated breast milk and I start gagging. My first experience alone with my daughter is quickly going from bad to worse. I jump up and head to the bathroom while Abigail continues screaming. Samson's howls grow longer and louder if that's even possible. "Why me?" I mutter.
Cleaning the baby up with a wet washcloth only makes her angrier. I lay her on the bed with her little arms and legs flapping in an angry tirade so I can change my shirt. She doesn't like that, so I think better of it. Thank God Lydia can't see what a disaster I've made of daddy daycare. I pick up Abby and pace for ten minutes before I finally give in and reach for my cell.
"I'll be right up," Raul says without me saying a word. The commotion in the background must have been enough to let him know I'm in desperate straits. My wife is gone for twenty minutes and her big bad Dom is reduced to calling big bad gay backup.
Raul doesn't bother knocking and enters using the penthouse key code. He takes Abby from my arms mid-I swear she isn't breathing-scream. He ignores her wails and changes her clothes and diaper with me watching over his shoulder. Lifting her to his chest, he rubs her back to soothe her. He flashes Samson a chilling look and says, "No," in a soft voice that the damn dog actually listens to. One instant Abigail and the dog are in tandem and the next the room is completely silent.
I run my hand over my head. "I can't believe you just did that."
Raul smiles slightly and nuzzles Abigail's chubby neck. "It's a gay uncle thing."
"And Samson?"
He reaches down and pets Sam's head. "I've known this dog since he was Abby's age. He just needs to know his baby is safe."
"And her daddy doesn't keep her safe?" I question.
Raul's grin is getting on my nerves. "Not in dog language."
"Christ! He licked up her vomit and I almost lost my lunch." Raul doesn't even try to contain his laughter. "What's it going to cost me to keep this quiet?"
Raul laughs harder. "I'll think of something and collect another time. Do you want me to put her in the bassinet? I think she's sleeping now."
Abby's little eyes are closed and she's once again a content princess. "Yeah, put her down and I'll let Sam outside. Maybe he'll regurgitate baby puke on the grass and I'll have another picture that needs to be exorcised from my brain."
Raul looks pointedly at the wet spots covering the front of me. "After that, please change your shirt. You smell a little spoiled."
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