My Grandson…

When the black Audi pulled up, I wiped my hands on my apron and went outside smiling.

Brooke got out first. She was wearing cream-colored leggings, white sneakers, and a camel sweater that probably cost more than my grocery budget for a week. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup perfect even at ten in the morning. Daniel came around to the passenger side and lifted Noah’s car seat from the back as if it weighed more than it did.

“Hey, Mom,” he said.

He kissed my cheek quickly, already distracted.

Then Brooke gave me the baby bag and said, “He’s been impossible today.”

Not hello. Not thanks for helping. Just that.

I peered down at Noah. He was swaddled tighter than usual under a pale blue knit blanket, his tiny face red from crying. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his little mouth was open in a scream so full of raw distress that I felt it in my chest before I even touched him.

“Oh, honey,” I murmured, reaching for him. “What’s wrong with my boy?”

Brooke’s jaw tightened.

“He’s been doing that all morning,” she said. “Gas. Or colic. I don’t know. We’ve tried everything.”

I took Noah into my arms. The moment I adjusted him against my shoulder, he let out a piercing cry that sounded different from the hungry fussing or tired wailing I had heard from him before. This was higher, sharper. Panicked.

My smile faded.

“Did he eat?” I asked.

“Two ounces about an hour ago,” Brooke said. “He keeps refusing the bottle after that.”

Daniel shifted from one foot to the other. “We’ll just be a couple hours.”

I looked at him. “A couple?”

“Maybe three,” Brooke said. “We need to stop at Target, Nordstrom, and return something at Sephora.”

Noah screamed again, arching so hard his tiny body trembled.

“Maybe you should reschedule,” I said, before I could stop myself.

Brooke looked at me like I had insulted her haircut.

“We can’t,” she said. “This is the first time we’ve been out in weeks.”