Shiver (21 page)

Chapter 29

LISSA

Me: The magic swaddle doesn’t work during the day. :(

Ethan: As long as it works at night so I can do you.

Me: Lol. I love you.

Ethan: I love you too. Talk to therapist?

Me: Yes. Appointment in 2 weeks. Sigh.

Ethan: Two weeks??

Me: That’s all they have.

Ethan: Have you talked to Steph about all this?

Me: Sigh. No.

I would have loved to talk to Steph about this. But… she had her own stuff going on. I wasn’t sure how much she’d have to offer.

My head fell to the back of the rocking chair, and I tried to close my eyes and get some rest. I’d gotten Thomas to drink about half his bottle, but I was unable put him down. So he was drooling with his head on my chest, breathing steadily. I looked at his little airplane clock, the one we registered for when we were still full of baby dreams and wonderment, and saw I had probably an hour until he woke up. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, so I reached for my Kindle and powered it on, shifting in my seat to allow for circulation to my numb ass. The one upside of this whole debacle was the amount of reading I’d had time for. It helped pass the time, and I might have been slightly addicted. I settled in to read about a life far removed from my own. Far simpler and far more entertaining.

When Thomas finally started to stir, I set my book aside and shifted him to my other side, stretching my arms as he yawned and peered up at me, blinking his daddy’s dark brown eyes at me.

“Hi, bud.” I smiled as I kissed his head.

I stood and stretched again and took him over to change his diaper. It varied from day to day if he was going to be happy or crazed about lying on his changing table, and it looked like this was not a happy day. By the time I’d finished changing him, which I could do in under a minute, he was red-faced and gasping for breath. I picked him up to soothe him, bouncing him gently and whispering to him.

And he promptly vomited all over me. I blew out a large breath, trying not to react, and patted his back.

“That’s all right, kiddo. Feel better?”

He cooed and smiled and tugged my hair. Guess that was a yes. I swapped into another tank top and wiped myself off with a baby wipe, all without putting Thomas down. Yeah, yeah… it’s a skill not many possess. Motherhood had taught me things I’d never even thought to try.

We walked into the kitchen and I set him down on the floor, handing over a collection of wooden spoons. As he held them carefully and stared curiously at them, I quietly turned to the sink, washing dishes and getting dinner prepped. When I had a few minutes of time where he was entertained and happy, I was an ultraefficient maniac. I cleaned the entire kitchen in minutes and started setting things out to make dinner easier. I filled a pot of water and put it on the stove for later. Even something as simple as that could make my evening easier. I grabbed a box of pasta and set it aside and then leaned into the freezer to grab some homemade spaghetti sauce and plopped it in the sink to start thawing. Hands on my hips, I looked at my simple dinner plan, wondering if I needed to add anything to it. Like a salad or vegetables. But then I decided there were vegetables in my sauce, so I didn’t need to worry about chopping anything else up.

I turned to Thomas just as he bonked himself in the head with a spoon and started wailing. Sighing, I dropped to my knees and pull him into my arms.

“You’re okay, buddy. It’s just a bonk.” I pulled back to look at his red face, tears streaming dramatically down his cheeks. “You know, you’re probably really hungry. Do you want to eat?” I pinched all my fingers together and pointed them at my mouth, signing “eat.” He shook his head no. I took three fingers and placed them alongside my lips, signing “water.”

I read somewhere that teaching your baby to sign would help develop communication skills. It was hit or miss, but better than nothing.

He stopped crying and attempted to sign back to same thing, saying, “Wah wah.”

I smiled at him and gave him a hug. “See? Communicating is fun! Good job!”

I hoisted us off the ground together and got his cup and straw, filling it with ice-cold water and handing it to him. He sucked it down like he’d been stranded on a desert somewhere.

“How about milk?” I opened and closed a fist to sign that as well. Of course, he shook his head no. What baby doesn’t like milk? I once met a mom who complained that she rationed her child’s milk because the kid would fill up on it. I’ll be honest, a small part of me wanted to kick that lady in the vagina.

“Okay, little dude. At least sit in your chair and I’ll get some food for you to stare at.”

I carried him over and buckled him in his giraffe high chair, clicking the tray into place. I grabbed a jar of homemade applesauce from the fridge, poured it into a bowl, and picked out a spoon. Pulling up a chair in front of him, I set everything down on his tray.

“Applesauce?” I asked hopefully.

He didn’t say no, so I scooped a small amount up and touched it to his lips. Again, he didn’t protest, so I kept going. The next time he even opened his mouth a little bit. He must have been starving. When the bowl of food was halfway gone, he waved both hands in the air, signing “all done.” Half a bowl was pretty good for him, so I smiled and ruffled the hair on his head as I got up to clear his tray. He squawked in protest and ducked away from my hand but recovered and started giggling when we heard the mudroom door open, knowing his daddy was about to walk in.

“Hey! There’s my boy!” Ethan’s face was bright with a sexy smile as he kicked his boots off in the doorway and strode over, kissing my cheek and making a quick grab for my ass, then bypassing me to snatch his son out of confinement. It made me smile.

I took a step back and allowed myself to watch a father-son moment. Ethan was covered in sweat, his dark blue shirt completely soaked and clinging to his back. His pants were dirty, and I noticed a large, muddy smudge on one hip. It was suspicious. My eyes traveled up to his short, tousled hair and his sexy five-o’clock shadow. Thomas was propped on Ethan’s hip, smiling and chuckling.

Ethan turned to look at me. “How’s it going?” he asked cautiously.

I smiled to reassure him. “Not bad. He threw up after his nap, but he ate a decent amount of applesauce just now. He’s ready for a bath if you want the honors.”

“That’s my favorite. Huh, Sir Thomas?” Ethan kissed Thomas’s cheek and grinned. “Why don’t you go shower, babe? This is man stuff.”

I smirked at him. “Good luck with that.”

I kissed both my boys as I hurried off to fit in a shower before getting dinner finished up. I heard a lot of giggling and raucous behavior coming from the hall bathroom, and I knew there would be a big mess in there later. But I was so happy to hear them having fun. The hot spray of the shower felt amazing, washing away the tension in my neck and shoulders. I remembered that I’d been covered in puke not too long ago, so I scrubbed a little extra. I would have loved to stay under the stream of water another hour or so, but I also would have loved to eat dinner before Thomas was ready for bed. Reluctantly I stepped out of the shower, toweling off and applying lotion before grabbing a pair of Ethan’s boxers and a tank top out of a pile of unfolded laundry and pulling them on.

I headed into the kitchen to start the water boiling and get the sauce into a pot to heat up, then decided it was a good time to pour a glass of wine because there was no better way to wait for water to boil. Leaning my back against the counter, I quietly sipped and stared into space, just enjoying the quiet. When I felt the rumble of the water, I turned and stirred the pasta into the pot and set the timer. Then I went back to sipping my wine. Halfway through the glass, I remembered I hadn’t eaten all day and should probably stop and wait for dinner before I had any more. I pouted to myself as I placed my glass on the counter and started to get plates out.

Ethan carried Thomas in, clean and in pajamas, and set him on the floor with a pile of toys. He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck, sending chills up my spine. His lips found mine and his grip tightened and our kiss deepened. I felt his hands travel down to palm my ass and pull me closer.

He broke away and rested his forehead on mine. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” I responded. “I missed you all day.”

He sighed. “You have no idea.”

We held each other for a long moment before Thomas started fussing on the floor.

“Crap, I need to eat dinner before putting him to bed. And I was hoping we could eat together!”

“You eat. I’ll entertain him and then I’ll just eat and clean up after you guys head back. Maybe the magic swaddle will work again tonight!” He looked hopeful.

I shrugged, turning to drain the pasta and fix myself a plate. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I know, babe,” he said quietly as he went to pick up our son.

I scarfed down my food in minutes, barely tasting it but somehow still enjoying it. Then I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and took it into Thomas’s room. I checked that my Kindle was still there and decided a glass of wine to sip on during this process would be great. So I ran to top off my glass and hurry it back into his room. Then I hustled to grab the kid before he erupted and made the evening worse. I found him sitting on Ethan’s lap, paging through a board book.

They looked at me and Ethan handed Thomas over with a small smile.

“Good night, buddy. Good night, my love.” He kissed us both.

“Will you be asleep before I’m done?”

“I might. I’m dog-tired.”

“Yeah, what happened to your pants?” I remembered my curiosity about the smudge.

“I fell off Speedy,” he said sheepishly.

I snorted. “You fell off the quietest horse in the barn?” I asked in disbelief.

He started to laugh. “To be fair, he saw a bear and turned tail to run back to the barn. His neck is so short, and I wasn’t paying attention. I had no hope!”

I was still laughing and shaking my head. “You have no idea how much I would have liked to see that.”

He smacked my butt. “You’re a terrible wife.”

I grinned. “I’m the best wife you’ll ever have.”

He rolled his eyes.

ETHAN

My ass did actually hurt from that fall, but it was incredibly stupid, so I couldn’t complain. Plus, I was married to the toughest woman ever. I’d feel like a pansy if I asked for sympathy. Not to mention the fact I wouldn’t receive it anyway. Honestly, I fell because I was so distracted. I was always distracted. It was miraculous our business hadn’t folded, because my head was never completely in the game. How could it be when my whole life was somewhere else? I didn’t care about anything except getting home. While I was riding, I spent the time Googling all these different types of therapies on my phone or I tortured myself with WebMD. And I learned nothing useful.

I decided I needed a shower to loosen up my muscles and headed to our room to strip off my clothes. I turned the shower on to heat the water and leaned on the bathroom counter to wait. I caught sight of myself in the mirror, stress lining my face. I’d aged. Shit. Shaking my head, I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to erase the tension around my eyes, and stepped under the hot spray. I stood for long minutes and allowed myself to relax. But after a while it dawned on me that Lissa never had this opportunity. Instead of feeling the water, I felt guilt washing over me, so I grabbed some soap, lathered and rinsed, then hopped out to towel off.

Throwing on a pair of boxers, I paused on my way to the kitchen to peer through the crack in the doorway into Thomas’s room. I dared not open the door any farther, but I stood quietly and watched Lissa cradling Thomas with his head tucked into the crook of her right arm. She had a bottle in her left hand, very near his mouth, and her right hand was curled around his face, waiting. Moving very slowly, her lower lip caught between her teeth, she continued rocking gently and shushing constantly. She smoothly pulled the pacifier out of Thomas’s mouth with her right hand and immediately wiggled the bottle into his mouth with her left. I felt us both holding our breath as she bounced her knee up and down and teased him with the bottle. I was studying her, and I saw the moment when he latched on and started drinking. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breath released, a small smile curving her lips. My lips matched hers as I smiled to myself, so relieved to see that look on her face. I had no idea how she’d figured out her system to get him to eat, but as she said all the time, we’ve always done weird well. It was also a relief to see my son getting some sort of nutrition, although what the fuck kind of hypoallergenic crap he was drinking, I didn’t know. Under doctor’s orders, Lissa had stopped nursing a few months ago. They were certain his health and behavior were part of some sort of allergy, and we’d pretty eagerly latched on to that idea. Unfortunately, they were wrong. Or at least they weren’t really right, because it didn’t do anything except let us know how little he actually ate. I guess that was useful information to have, but it didn’t change our lives at all. Or his.