Chapter's song: Ain't Your Mama by Jennifer Lopez

Marianne is in my arms, crying hysterically.

I don't know what to do.

"We have to call Emily," the words roll off my tongue while my chest tightens.

I hate this.

Emily never leaves Marianne under any circumstance. Having a baby wasn't easy for them, so she is in charge of taking care of her daughter, leaving work and everything to the side. Tonight is the first time they ever leave her to go on a date, and Marianne gets a fever.

Bloody hell.

"We should call an ambulance," Mark has to shout since Marianne is crying on full-volume.

Why on earth would we need an ambulance?

"She's got a fever, Mark. It's a simple thing."

I think.

My eyes scan the kitchen counter, where Emily left pretty much everything she owns for her kid. A small basket with tiny bottles catch my eye, and I don't think it twice, I grab it. Skimming through the meds I find Calpol, liquid paracetamol.

Bingo.

After reading the basic instructions, I give her the dose the box recommends. I hope this works. Just as I'm putting it back on the basket, I remember Mom making me take long warm baths whenever I had fever in my childhood.

"Grab her." I give her to him, who's blue eyes are staring at me as if I'm crazy.

Which I am.

I've never bathed Marianne. I have no idea how to do this.

"Never mind," I reach out for the baby and grab her from him. "Take off your clothes."

Mark blinks at me. A mischievous smile curves up his lips. "I never thought I'd hear you say this, Kate." He wriggles his eyebrows for good measure.

I roll my eyes. "You're going to shower her." I lift up Marianne and as soon as the words leave my mouth, Mark's smile fades. I grin as I climb up the stairs, knowing that he's right behind us.

"Why me? You're the girl! You're the one who can shower with her."

I press my lips, trying not to laugh out loud. "But you're the expert, Mark! I mean, you did the whole milk temperature testing thing, which was bloody impressive." I hear him mutter curses behind me and my smile widens.

We reach the bathroom. The whole room stills as we look around for a minute. There are so many things in there. There's a huge table with the small bathtub for the baby and the thing has shelves on the bottom, filled with various size bottles. They all looked used.

What is this? Is there a simple soap bar?

I know babies cry harder if they get shampoo in their eyes, and the last thing I want to do is to irritate Marianne more.

"Fuck it," Mark blurts out before passing Marianne to me. He grabs the hem of his black t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Out of pure instinct, I turnaround. I don't want to look at him. Although, for a second there, I notice his chiseled chest.

Ugh. He has a freaking nice chest.

I hear the water running and my heart starts thumping loudly.

Is he naked? Please don't let him be naked!

"What are you doing?" I stutter in a low voice, completely panicking inside of me.

"Even if you're quite eager to see me naked, today is not your lucky day." He taps me on the shoulder. "Put her in the bathtub." I turn and yes, he is only half-naked. Which is way much worse. Those jeans hung loosely on his hips and it's an unsettling sight. 

Plus, it's clear he works out.

Puffing out my chest, trying to look unimpressed, I carefully remove Marianne's clothes. "You should take off your t-shirt too. You don't want to get wet," he taunts. I press my lips tighter at the same moment he cracks up. "Oh right! I forgot you're such a prude."

Oh no, he didn't!

My nostrils flare and I hold my chin higher as I meet his eyes. His grin is wide and despite of the whole situation, the douchebag keeps mocking me. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I bite my tongue.

Be classy. He doesn't need to know that he got to you. 

 I plaster a fake smile on my face and keep quiet, turning all my attention to Marianne, who's still crying, but not so loud. Apparently, the med is working out. She's much more calmed. Mark found a few toys for the bathtub and she's splashing away.

Ten minutes later, she's draped over a huge teddy-bear towel. My t-shirt is completely wet, but I'm not taking it off until Marianne settles on her crib. I put on some lotion and finish dressing her. I hear Mark working on the bathtub, cursing when he unplugs it to let the water out. I hope he wets his jeans. I smile for a second, trying to ignore the fact that his words upset me more than they should.

It is common knowledge that Mark is an idiot.

I just don't have to let him get to me.

Yet...is that the image everyone has of me? Being uptight, prude even?

Could that be the reason why my ex found interest in another girl? Because I'm boring?

Mark steps out of the bathroom completely sodden. He's not happy about it as he's trying to pat himself dry with another towel he found in the bathroom.

Good.

He deserves that.

Also, to get hit by a bus on his way out.

I scrunch up my nose. Okay. Not that one. What if it does happen? I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life.

Marianne smiles at me and I totally crumble under that grin.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," I whisper to her, as I finish setting her up. I lift her up and check her temperature with the thermometer I found in the kitchen. It reads 37°C and I breathe out. "You're fine, little girl." I kiss her on the forehead before passing her to Mark. "Don't you dare wet her. I'm going for some milk." I don't wait for an answer, I just give her to him and make my way to the kitchen.

She's pissed. Absolutely and utterly pissed.

I smile.

She looks hot, too.

I almost blow things off with my unnecessary show of the milk thing.

Of course, I don't know anything about babies!

Heck, I just did what everyone does in the movies. They have to do some research, right?

I gaze at the little baby in my arms and grin at her. "Let's get you into bed, shall we?" She gurgles, but I'm glad she has stopped crying. I was going crazy. I didn't joke when I said we had to take her to the hospital, she seemed in too much pain and I didn't know what to do.

But Kate did.

I glance at the door. Was there a hint of sadness in her eyes too? Did I go too far by calling her prude?

I didn't know much what happened with her ex-boyfriend. Only that he was named Scott. Like one fourth of the male population in the UK. I roll my eyes. People need to be more original. 

Still, had she dated anyone else?

Blah.

I really didn't pay much attention to her before. She is Emily's best-friend, that automatically puts her out of range.

She crosses through the room, rubbing the back of her palm across her forehead. Her golden hair is all over the place, her cheeks are flushed from rushing through the house to get the bottle of milk and her pink t-shirt is stuck to her body from the previous bath.

She has never looked as pretty.

She completely ignores me but her eyes cross with mine for a split second. If looks could kill, I'd be ten feet underground.

Pressing my lips together, I stroll away to find a pair of fresh jeans.

I'll bring a smile to your face, Kate.

I promise. 

So. Do we have a cast already? I'd love to read who you'd like to cast? (Liam Hemsworth has to stay as Mark, because he is super hot!) :)

Thank you all for your reads, votes and comments. You guys are the best!