The generous, thoughtful gesture made her heart ache. How was it possible to adore her friend, but still be so hurt by her?

“That was thoughtful.”

“And we’re going to see Santa.” Holly spun around, arms out, and Seb laughed and scooped her up.

Christy watched, wondering why this was the part of him she found sexiest. She liked his eyes, his shoulders, the way he smiled at her, but this—the way he was with their child—had the highest melt factor for her. Right from the first day he’d been good with their daughter. When Holly had emerged into the world (after a twenty-three hour labor that was nothing like the classes and the books had described), Christy had been drained and slightly shocked by everything. Seb had been dazed, exhilarated and terrified. He’d held Holly as if she’d been made of delicate glass. For the first couple of days he’d refused to hold her while standing up because he was terrified of dropping her. He’d insisted on sitting down, and once there, with the baby in his arms, he didn’t move. He’d had no siblings. No cousins. No experience of babies. But now here he was, a father, expected to know everything.

She’d had her mother, of course, but in those early days Elizabeth was still coming to terms with the fact that her daughter had behaved in such a recklessly spontaneous fashion, and Christy, afraid of being on the receiving end of one of her mother’s weary I-told-you-so looks, was determined to prove that she was made for this. Easier said than done. Holly woke every thirty minutes for the first few months of her life. Seb had to work, and Christy was feeding, so she took the brunt of it. She’d drifted through the days like a zombie. How did women go straight back to work? How did they do it? She barely had the energy to pull on clothes. The books told her to sleep when the baby slept, but Holly barely slept. Her eyes were wide-open as she gazed at her surroundings, taking it all in, determined not to miss a moment.

It was torture.

She felt as if she was drowning. Sinking into depths that seemed to have no bottom.

It was Alix who had saved her. While other people had given clothes and squishy toys, Alix’s gift to Christy had been a nanny for two hours a day. Knowing that Christy wouldn’t relinquish her baby to anyone else, the deal was that the nanny came to the apartment and cared for the baby, allowing Christy some time to herself. Christy had been resistant—what did it say about her that she needed help caring for her own child?—but it had proved to be a game changer. The nanny was experienced and kind. She praised Christy. She made her feel like the best mother in the world instead of the worst. She told her she was doing a great job. (Job? And yet where was the training?) On the first day Christy didn’t know what to do with herself, so she took a bath. She read five pages of a book. On the second day she put makeup on. By the end of a week she was starting to feel human again. She relaxed and—miracle!—the baby started to sleep for a few hours at a time. And then a little longer. She and Seb collapsed into bed early, and he helped whenever he could. He started his day at four in the morning so that he could take the baby after she’d fed and give Christy a few hours of sleep before he left the house. She was worried that he wouldn’t be able to function on so little sleep, but he said he enjoyed the quiet time with his daughter.