“Can I hold her?”
Claire pulled the baby against her chest.
“No. Absolutely not.”
He bought tiny socks with his own paycheck.
“Claire…” I said. “He’s held babies before.”
“And if he squeezes too hard? Drops her? Gets excited and forgets she isn’t a doll? I’m not experimenting with my daughter.”
Jamie lowered his arms slowly.
“Okay.”
He put his hands in his pockets.
He told every customer at the garden center he was about to be an uncle.
I stared at my wife. She wouldn’t look at me.
***
It got worse after we brought Sophie home.
Jamie came every Sunday. Claire met him at the door with hand sanitizer.
“Hands.”
“I washed already.”
“Wash again. For Sophie.”
He washed again.
It got worse after we brought Sophie home.
One Sunday he offered, “I can feed her.”
Claire laughed. Actually laughed.
