3.2 | after |

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I smile a little as I see Kinley finally asleep; she does not like naptime. I tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, taking the baby monitor with me as I head downstairs. Ah... peace. There isn't much of that anymore with a 2 month old baby.

"Babe I'm home!" Embry yells.

Kinley cries out loudly and I glare at Embry as I stomp back up the stairs. I pick her up with a sigh, trying to calm her as I bounce. "C'mon baby, shh."

"Sorry." Embry whispers.

"Sorry?" I say in a normal voice. "If you were sorry you wouldn't keep doing it!"

"I forgot I'm sorry, baby, here." He holds his hands out.

"No. You don't get to come in and play Mr nice guy, she's going down for a nap and that's that." I grab her changing bag storming downstairs.

"Where are you going?" He huffs.

"For a drive because that's what I have to do to get her to sleep." I snap.

"Maybe if you stop having tantrums at me-"

"Fuck off Embry." I shake my head and strap her in with her paci. She grips the little giraffe attached to it. I close the door and climbs in as Embry leans in the open window.

"You're just gonna run off?"

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"You're just gonna run off?"

"No, I'm going to get her to sleep. Like I said, she needs a nap. This is how she goes off to sleep when everything else doesn't work. You would know this if you spent more time with her than the pack!" I snap and back up, driving away fast.

Jerk.

Asshole.

He's pissing me off so much.

'Parenting'. Ha.

He doesn't know the word.

Embry likes to come in and be cool dad, fun dad. I'm the one up every night to feel her - 3 times a night - and I change pretty much every diaper. He still doesn't seem to have found the balance between family and the pack. The pack still comes first.

I'm struggling - badly. I don't feel like a mom, I don't feel like I've bonded with her. I look at her and sometimes... I find myself thinking about life before her. Maybe Embry would have more time for me that way. And I sound selfish, I know, but it's all about her and nothing else.

'Let me come and see Kinley!'

'How is she doing?'

'Oh you don't feed her breast milk?'

'She doesn't have a bedtime?'

It's either all about her or about how bad my parenting skills are. Where's the 'how are you doing, Aubree?' Or 'do you need me to do anything, Aubree?'

I sigh and glance back to see she's finally fallen asleep, her giraffe in her fist and her mouth hanging open - just like her fsther. I smile small and pull over at the side of the highway, closing my eyes for a moment as I enjoy the peace. Just me and the silence...

Numb - Embry CallWhere stories live. Discover now