Page 24 of False Evidence
She grabbed his ear with a pudgy hand and said, “Ower?”
“C’mon. We’ll all get clean.”
He grabbed her diaper bag and the crib and headed up the stairs.
He wore boxers in the shower. It was silly, he knew, but at the same time, he wasn’t comfortable stripping bare, not without Lex’s permission, even if it was just a shower for kid and crib.
It was clear that Gemma had never taken a shower before, but no way would he try to give her a bath—he didn’t have a safety chair and had no clue how to bathe a kid. As it was, he had a large two-headed shower stall that fit him and the fully setup crib, with Gemma giggling in the corner whenever he sprayed her with the shower wand, in between washing the mud from the baby jail.
He was feeling like a pro by the time he secured a fresh diaper and clean onesie on the smiling girl, who now smelled like baby shampoo.
It was late afternoon, and she’d skipped the nap Erica had promised. What were the odds that would translate to an early bedtime?
He dressed her in a pink set of footed pajamas he’d purchased in the middle of the night a day and a half ago, marveling at the elasticity of time.
On one level, that shopping trip had been a lifetime ago. It had happened in a world where he didn’t know Gemma Vargas. And now he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.
Thirty-eight hours.
“Hungry?” he asked. As if he didn’t know the answer.
“Hungy! Hungy!”
He smiled. “We need to teach you some new words. Can you say ‘yes’?”
“No.”
He laughed, then enunciated clearly, drawing out the word, “Yeessss.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Yesss.” She smiled, an eight-tooth grin, and giggled.
Holy shit. She had made ajoke.
“Silly,” he said.
“Knock-knock.”
Wait, she told knock-knock jokes? “Who’s there?”
She stuck her tongue between her lips and made a raspberry sound.
He laughed. “That might be the cutest and funniest knock-knock joke I’ve ever heard.”
She made another raspberry sound.
This kid. He might be in love.
All at once, he thought of how much danger Lex was in, how much she must be missing her daughter, and he squeezed Gemma tight to his chest as he fought the burn of tears.
Gemma pushed at his chest. “Hungy.”
He loosened his grip and swiped at his eyes. “Let’s get you some food, kid.”
He left the crib to drip dry in the shower. Gemma wouldn’t be able to sleep in it tonight anyway. Once again, his chest would be her mattress.