“You might try to burp him,” said Zahariev, changing the subject, though I wasn’t surprised. He didn’t like when I talked about marriage. Guess we were even. “I don’t know how to do that,” I said. Zahariev stared before rising to sit beside me. “Give him here,” he said. I didn’t know how to hand off a baby, but Zahariev acted like he’d done this a million times, slipping one hand under his head and the other beneath his bundled legs. He sat him up, his large hand splayed across Liam’s chest as he patted his back until he made a quiet gurgling sound. “There you go,” he said, chuckling quietly.
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