“Milk, you idiot. But you need to warm it up and sterilize the bottles.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I nursed yaks in Mongolia for a month when I was fifteen.”

  “Wanker, she isn’t a yak.”

  “Same difference.” Arnie yawned sleepily.

  My head hurt. Badly.

  “Warm milk,” I said, “We can handle that.”

  I mixed milk with warm water, which was the best I could do this far in the air. Why hadn’t we been smart enough to get baby formula?! Oh yeah. We weren’t fucking parents. This was my mom’s idea of a birthday gift.

  I fed the little girl with a tiny spoon, dripping it into her mouth as she gurgled and tilted her head in a confusion. It was messy. Very messy. And Ben was probably right about the pending diarrhea. As I fed her, he leaned over, backseat driving my airplane spoon and then blurted out, “Emma.”

  “What?”

  “We could name her something traditional.”

  I pursed my lips. I’d rather not name my sister after a Jane Austen character. Ben was so... British the way he thought about names.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I wish my mom told us. Who does that? Who abandons a baby?”

  Ben put his hands on my thighs again. He tried his best not to speak ill of my mother. He couldn’t help himself sometimes. Kerri made it easy to speak ill of her. But he tried to understand that she was still my mom. And until recently, I’d hoped that we could be a family... an actual family... for the first time.

  “What about... Missy?” I suggested.

  “Short for Margaret?”

  “Short for Missouri. But we’d never call her Missouri. Just Missy.”

  “That is so American.”

  Ben’s voice dripped with disgust. I knew it wasn’t on purpose. He was just tired.

  “We’re never going to decide,” I groaned.

  I’d finished feeding my sister, and she kept... staring. It made me feel guilty somehow. Like there was any part of me responsible for this mess.

  “I’ll think like an American then,” I said proudly. “But not Missouri. A brand new name.”

  Ben sounded so insistent, like we were talking about naming our child and not the sister my mother dumped on us unceremoniously. I ought to stare out the window at the Alps, enjoying my youth, not naming my baby sister.

  “Sophie,” Ben whispered, “It means wise.”

  “It’s pretty.”

  Ben failed in thinking like an American, but he’d thought of a name that didn’t make me gag.

  “We should change the spelling,” I suggested.

  Ben massaged his brow.

  “No... we can’t change the spelling.”

  “Fine. Sophie. It’s cute.”

  “She is cute,” Ben whispered, “And for now... she’s ours.”

  There was something final about the way he’d said it that I didn’t want to admit. I nestled close to him and I suddenly got the sense that Ben was acting like a father. I missed my own father. But maybe Sophie could have Ben, at least for now and at least while she was ours.

  My heart flipped. Ours. There was no way we could handle this. We’d barely gotten back together. The last thing we needed was a baby.

  The plane shuddered. Switzerland. I leaned over Ben and peered out the window at the Alps. Another winter holiday…

  Now They Know About The Baby

  One car took Arnie, Theo, and Charlie to the chalet. Ben and I had to buy baby supplies. We didn’t have a clue what we were doing and by the time we got back to the car, Sophie was crying. A lot.

  “I think she pooped,” I said.

  Ben nodded. “We’re five minutes out from the chalet. We’ll change her nappy there.”

  “Do you know how!?” I asked, panicked.

  Ben grinned.

  “I have cousins. Naturally.”

  “I’m sure I’ve done it,” I muttered, but I honestly couldn’t remember when. Maybe when Niecy was a baby. I tried not to think about when Niecy was a baby because that inevitably led to thinking about the fact that she never grew up.

  We pulled up to the “chalet”. I didn’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect a massive wooden ski lodge with turrets and several floors. Enormous didn’t begin to describe the place. Benjamin wrapped his jacket around his tall frame tighter. He scowled as the wind whipped his hair out of his face.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and offered to help with the baby carrier. I shook my head and pulled the little blanket over Sophie to protect her from the cold.

  Sophie’s diaper had crossed over from “maybe she did a poop” to “that shit stinks” and we hadn’t greeted Ben’s parents yet with the surprise. If they were even here.

  Ben’s family had always been notoriously cold-hearted. And if I was lucky, they’d live up to their reputation. I didn’t look forward to the inevitable Emma Fox meltdown at the sight of a baby in her precious son’s arms.

  Arnie, Theo and Charlie weren’t at the chalet, although there was evidence that they had been early, so maybe they’d given us a break and dragged Eva-Marie, Arthur Jr. and the parents out for a late dinner.

  The staff at Blackmoor took care of King George when the family traveled to Switzerland, so I didn’t have the dog’s familiar howling or warm snout on my palm to look forward to. That dog probably knew the staff better than its owners. Two men dragged our suitcases away from us and exchanged glances when they saw the baby. I couldn’t imagine how much they gossiped about the Fox family. There was always a lot to gossip about.

  Ben laid down his diaper changing materials while I stood back, slightly terrified about the nastiness we’d uncover in Sophie’s diaper.

  “This is such a mood killer,” I muttered.

  I should have been showing off my sexy lingerie to Ben, not diving into a diaper full of baby caca. I didn’t want to become a mother like this. I furrowed my nose as I stared at Sophie’s diaper. I could handle thinking about university and school, but I’d never planned for a future.

  I wanted to write a book or something, not spend the rest of my life raising a kid I never planned on.

  “Not a mood killer,” Ben said. “Fun. Ready for the surprise?”

  “It’s poop. Not exactly a great surprise.”

  “More enthusiasm, Liberty,” Ben chastised with a wink.

  He grinned and then we peeled back the diaper. The impact of the stench followed immediately.

  “AHHHHHHH!”

  Ben wrinkled his nose and gagged, dramatically stumbling backward. Sophie made a gurgling noise as Ben teared up and his cheeks turned a brilliant red. I held my nose and clutched my stomach to stop myself from throwing up everywhere.

  “It’s a bomb! She’s a tiny cinnamon-colored bomb!” Ben choked out through gags.

  “We’re sure this isn’t your dad’s baby too, right?” I whispered. A cough nearly winded me as I doubled over after Ben’s lead.

  “Unlikely. I think your mother was pregnant long before she met my dad. Think about it. The timing.”

  Ben was right. No human alive could gestate that fast. Not even my crazy ass mother.

  “She’s done stranger things,” I muttered.

  “My guess is this is her mob connection. A mafia baby,” Ben said bitterly. “She’s certainly got a weapon of mass destruction in her nappy.”

  “Great. So this baby has two crazy ass parents. She’s probably going to kill us in our sleep when she grows up...”

  Ben smirked. “Dark mind, Liberty. I like it. But little Sophie couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  I didn’t bother pointing out that whatever she’d just released from her butt was about to kill us right now.

  “This is seriously the worst smell I’ve ever experienced,” I said, wishing I could wipe my eyes but terrified of cross contamination.

  “Her butt is like a nuclear blaster,” Ben muttered, “Baby wipe.”

  I handed him some wipes. We groaned and gagged throughout the entire process. When we had a clean nappy on Sophie, she gurgled enthusiastically and made other strange baby noises.

  “Do we have to feed her again?” I whispered.

  Ben groaned.

  “We need a nanny so both of us can take a shower. I’m sure my nostrils are permanently singed with the fresh scent of baby shit.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Ben turned to me, seriously puzzled. “What?”

  “This is my fault,” I answered, my voice warbling.

  Ben pressed his forehead to mine and his ruby lips to my nose.

  “Don’t say that, Liberty.”

  “It is,” I said, my voice finally cracking. “Even if I’m not a charity case anymore, my life always fucks things up.”

  “That’s not true,” Ben insisted, grabbing my shoulders. “This isn’t fucked.”

  “Yes, it is! We’re supposed to have sex! We’re supposed to get drunk! We aren’t supposed to take care of some dumb baby!”

  Ben stopped my lips with his and then whispered, “Shh... my sweet thing. We can still drink. We can still fuck. But we should definitely not have any part of this conversation in front of Sophie. She’s not a dumb baby. She’s innocent.”

  We both glanced over at her, arms and legs flailing as she lay on her back in the middle of the bed. He was right. She was innocent. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t make myself blame her.

  “She’s beautiful,” Ben whispered, “And she’s a part of you. That means I love her already.”

  “I never wanted to be a mom this young. Look at my mom. She’s the worst mother alive. I’m going to be like that! I’m going to screw this all up!”

  I thrust my hands against Ben’s chest, but I couldn’t hit him hard. I just caved against Ben’s broad muscles and allowed him to hold me for a moment. He was so strong and so much stronger than me. I didn’t know how he could be so calm about all of this. I couldn’t become like my mother.

  “You won’t,” Ben insisted, grabbing my cheeks. “Liberty... you aren’t like her. You’re loving. You care about people. You’re so smart that I get smarter just from hanging around you. You are an angel. You’re my angel. And you won’t be like your mum. I won’t let you think so.”

  He grabbed my hips and kissed my forehead, and then my lips. And then we heard noises downstairs in the chalet. I froze. Barnaby. Yelling. And then his parents yelling after him. Ben picked Sophie off the bed and held her to his chest.

  “So... shall we go distract them from Barnaby’s latest crime with some trouble of our own?”

  “They’re going to hate me,” I whispered, secretly thinking that there wasn’t much of a chance Emma could hate me more than she already did.

  “Shh,” Ben murmured, “They won’t. I won’t let them.”

  We wandered downstairs together. Ben let a loud greeting boom throughout the house. His father stopped yelling at Barnaby, who grinned and flashed Ben a grateful thumbs up.

  “What are you holding?” Arthur asked calmly, hands on his hips like he thought this entire situation was some kind of prank.

  “Mum. Dad. Eva. Junior. Liberty and I have some news...”

  “Dear God,” Ben’s mum whispered and then she stumbled backward and fainted or pretended to faint. Junior caught her. Eva shrieked.

  “I’m an aunty!”

  “No!” Ben snarled. “Can you let me finish?”

  Ben handed the baby over to me. And then he explained. Dramatically. Ben’s mother returned to consciousness. Charlie handed her a vodka soda. Which helped, at least in spirit.

  When she’d heard enough, she stormed off. Ben seemed to think this was the best he could expect from her. Arthur patted Ben on the back.

  “Good lad. Good lad. Stepping up,” Arthur offered. “If you want this to go away… ask.”

  He wandered after their mother, and the siblings gathered around the piano with martinis. Ben and I took Sophie upstairs and took her to bed. Ben was the one who put her down and got her to sleep. He was a natural at all this stuff. For once, I felt… stupid.

  “It’s time to see our room now, isn’t it?”

  “What about Sophie?” I whispered. “Won’t we have to feed her during the night?”

  I didn’t have a clue what she needed. Ben wrapped an arm around me and tried to comfort me. He knew I didn’t want to disappoint her. She was ours — at least for now.

  “After our shower, I’ll get one of the staff to look after her,” he whispered. “We have plenty of people trained in childcare and this is exactly why we have staff.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ben chuckled.

  “The Fox staff practically raised me. She’ll be fine. We need time to figure this out, anyway. Time together.”

  He pushed hair out of my face, and we kissed. I wrinkled my nose and pulled away.

  “I can still smell baby poo,” I whispered.

  “Shower,” Ben murmured, “I need to get you into the shower.”

  I took Ben by the hand and felt my way along the halls to our bedroom. I was too tired to appreciate how beautiful it was. As usual, Ben put every thought into the details he requested of the staff. We had a large canopy bed, a crackling fireplace, and an adorable hot chocolate station near the entrance to our en suite bathroom.

  Ben slapped my bottom.

  “Ben!”

  “Get naked, Libs. I need you once before tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?!”

  “Your first day skiing,” he murmured, “Now strip.”

  The Bunny Slopes

  I didn’t want to leave Sophie alone with the nanny until I met her. Our meeting went well and Ben’s interrogation (and threats) were all taken well. She took Sophie right into her arms and held her close, like she really loved her. Warmth spread through me as I watched them together. I tried to tell myself that I could handle the separation.

  “Only a few hours, okay?”

  My palms sweat, even if the chalet was freezing. Something was very wrong with the entire concept of skiing. I couldn’t fathom Marley, Rhonda, or anyone I knew back home, strapping wooden sticks to their feet and letting those stupid flimsy sticks rocket them down a mountain. The Alps were beautiful in the way I would have been content to admire from a distance.

  Not Ben. Not the Fox family. They needed to get deep into the action. Ben’s parents left for the Black Diamond slopes early. Charlie joined them — without Theo. They’d patched up their relationship for the time being, but after the enormous fight at Blackmoor, Theo didn’t enjoy rubbing their relationship in the family’s face. Eva-Marie put her arm around Theo and shook her head in disappointment, whipping her ski goggles around her other arm.

  “They’re such wankers.”

  “They’re parents. It’s their job to protect their young...” Theo said, desperate to be charitable.

  “My father cheated on my mum,” Eva balked. “He has no right to judge you and who you love.”

  Arthur Jr. didn’t ski. He snowboarded. And that morning he nursed a hangover on the velvet couch. I carried my heavy skis alongside Ben. He tried to hold my hand, but I was already sweating in my outfit. We got to the ski lift, and I glanced up at the top of the mountain and the little cords that allegedly held the lift.

  “We’re supposed to sit on that all the way up the mountain?”

  My voice came out like a squeak, an effect that I definitely didn’t intend. Ben put his hand on my back.

  “Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry? Was that the best Ben could do? Against my better judgment, I sat on the lift and Ben sat next to me. The chair swayed and my stomach swayed with it. What the hell was I doing? Theo sat on Ben’s other side. Eva-Marie waited for the next lift so she could sit next to a cute stranger. Before I could protest, the lift carried me too far off the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Riding the lift already felt like an Olympic sport. Did Ben really expect me to fling my behind down the slopes after this? I squirmed uncomfortably and tried not to hold my breath. I could get through this white boyfriend experience alive if I just calmed down.

  “Ready?” He murmured. “We’re about to get off.”

  He took my hand, and I pressed my feet on the ground, my boots landing with a thud. Theo had his skis on already, and he slid ahead past the ropes. There wasn’t an enormous crowd. A couple people spoke to each other in German and a few in French. Theo spoke French to a couple, and they let him go ahead. Before we could say goodbye, he slid ahead. He was so smooth. I felt like an awkward foal stumbling forward.

  The Swiss skiers stared at us. I was the only black person there and by the time ten or fifteen people stopped to look at me, I realized how obvious it was. I looked at Ben like I wanted him to save me. Or like I wanted to kill him. I somehow wanted both. Ben helped me get my skis on and strapped his skis on.

  “Ready?”

  “NO!”

  “Slide your feet. Come on...”

  I drifted, and Ben waited for me, eagerly demonstrating. I gripped my ski poles for dear life as I imitated Ben’s movements. Oh God. This was so embarrassing. I felt certain everyone there was staring at me. Did they think I was too awkward to be there? Or too black? None of them smiled. But Europeans never smiled like Americans did. Ben explained how to hold the poles. He didn’t notice how awkward I felt. Or looked. I gave him one wild-eyed “save me” expression, and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile.

  “You’re doing great.”

  “I’m scared out of my mind!”

  “We’re on the bunny slopes. They’re easy... I promise.”

  “I’m going to fall!” I squealed.

  “Careful...”

  He led me to the top of the slopes after a brief lesson. I still thought I’d die if he left my side.

  “Want me to go first? That way I can catch you at the bottom.”

  “Yes,” I exhaled.

  I had no choice but to ski to the bottom. Despite the terror gripping my chest and my loose grasp on the quick ski lesson Ben gave me. I didn’t have a choice. I stuck my poles in and propelled myself forward, bending my body to keep my knees from buckling inward and holding my poles behind me. I wobbled. And screamed. Loud.

 

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