37. Sully #2
Sloane slumps against her seat and closes her eyes, mumbling along with “Don’t Stop Believin’,” every word wrong, as usual.
As I head through the Lincoln Tunnel, my heart squeezes impossibly tight.
I love this woman so goddamn much. When we finally pull up to the building in Jersey, she’s sound asleep.
I, on the other hand, am wound tighter than a bowstring, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I guide her inside and lead her straight to bed. Minutes after I’ve helped her change and tucked her in, she’s out cold.
Only then do I rush out of the flat and stomp up the steps to Madame E’s place.
It’s early. Not even dinnertime, but even if it were two a.m., I’d have no qualms about bothering her.
The woman inserted herself in our lives, so she only has herself to blame.
Now I can’t do a goddamn thing without wondering what Madame E knows.
The door swings open with a flourish, and she appears, totally at ease and dressed in one of her typical flowing dresses with a gold belt that jangles around her waist. “Good evening, Sullivan. Sebastian and I have been expecting you.” She waves behind her to the ghost she alleges lives in our building.
I sneer. I can’t help it. I’m too out of sorts to even hide my disdain for the ridiculousness she brings to every interaction.
Am I really asking a woman who believes in ghosts for advice on my wife’s medical condition?
Then I remember the way Sloane’s hands trembled this afternoon in the doctor’s office and shake off any hesitation. “Tell me my wife and baby will be okay.”
Madame E’s expression softens. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll put a pot of tea on and we can chat.”
“What do you know?” I plead. I can’t just sit around. I need to do something.
The older woman frowns. “Sully, I only?—”
“If you say you only see what you see, I’m going to lose it.”
She shakes her head like she’s at a loss, but footsteps on the stairs behind me catch our attention before she can respond.
Fuck. If I turn around and there’s no one there, I really will get on the Madame E and Sebastian are real train.
I turn around, and when my brother and Brian approach the landing, I breathe out a relieved breath.
They’re peering up at me with worried expressions, like they’ve heard our entire interaction.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Do you want to come in for tea?” Madame E offers.
Brian shakes his head. “Another time. Come on, Sul. Let’s let Madame E enjoy her evening. ”
I nod woodenly, suddenly feeling foolish, and follow them downstairs. It isn’t until the door to our flat is shut behind us that I even take a breath.
“Want a beer?” Brian asks as he heads toward the fridge.
I survey the living room. “Where’s Lo?”
“Reading to the boys.” Cal picks up a table tennis ball and tosses it in the air. “Want to tell us why you’re such a broody dudey?”
Brian returns with three beers, tops all off, and hands one to me.
I tip it back and drink half of it in one go.
Not because I need the drink, but because I need the time to collect my thoughts.
It’s hard to explain this sensation inside my chest, the way I feel like if I don’t hold on tight to what I have and make the exact right moves, I’ll lose everything.
They wait me out, though Cal continues to toss the ball in the air.
I finally lean forward and snatch it.
To my surprise, he doesn’t stop me and he doesn’t complain. Bollocks. He must be really worried about me.
“The doctor said her amniotic fluid is on the low side and her blood pressure is higher than she’d like.”
Cal’s eyes widen, but Brian simply nods, the calm in every storm.
“Does that mean bed rest?” Cal asks, all teasing and walkie-talkie jokes long forgotten.
“She doesn’t want that,” I grumble.
“The doctor or Sloane? If it’s Sloane, we can talk to her. Lo can talk to her.” My brother stands like he’s about to interrupt story time.
I yank him back down. “The doctor. She said Sloane needs to take it easy, but she doesn’t need bed rest. Not yet.”
“But you don’t like that answer,” Brian infers.
I pick at the label on my beer bottle, pulling it back and exposing the dark glass. “No. There’s no reason for her to work. So why take the chance?” I shake my head. Fuck. Sloane would hate that answer. “I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t. She’s going to be fine,” Brian assures me.
“We’ll make sure of it,” Cal promises.
Head down, I pull at my hair. “I’m scared.”
That uncontrollable emotion consumes me even after our conversation is over and through T.J.’s bedtime routine. It eats at me as I settle beside Sloane two hours later. As I curl up beside her, studying her without touching her, not wanting to wake her.
“I can feel you watching me,” she mumbles, not opening her eyes.
I press a kiss to her cheek. She looks gorgeous, all rumpled from sleep. “Sorry. Go to bed.”
With a soft hum, she wraps an arm around me and snuggles in closer. “I’m going to be okay, Sully.”
My eyes fall shut and my heart splinters. Of course, she knows I’m freaking out. She’s probably known for hours. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I know you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
She angles back, her eyes locked on mine in the mostly dark room. “I know.”
My throat clogs with emotion. “You do?”
Her lips tip up in a small smile. “Yeah, I know you’ll make sure we have the best doctors and I know you’ll be at my side every step of the way.”
“You really believe it?”
For months, I’ve worked hard to prove myself. To make up for all my wrongs. To know that she sees how I’ve changed steals all the air from my lungs.
Sloane brushes her mouth over my cheek. “Yes, Sully, I believe it.” She sets her hands against my heart. “I never once doubted that you would protect me. It was the emotional stuff that you were not so good at.”
“I’m trying,” I say. It guts me that I wasn’t better all along.
“I know. And that’s all we can do. Both of us. Try .”
I bury my face in her neck. “I love you so damn much, Sloane. All I want in this life is you and our kids to be happy and healthy.”
Eyes glazing over with tears, she takes a deep breath. “I love you too. And I am. Happy and hopefully healthy.”
My heart skips at her words. Words that at one point I didn’t think I’d ever hear again from her lips. Words I’ve been hoping to hear again but have been worried I don’t deserve. My wife loves me. My wife, who I am utterly besotted with, who will always own my heart, still loves me.
I fall back against the bed with a smile on my face and laugh. The day’s stress—hell, the year’s stress—washes away the moment Sloane breaks into a fit of giggles.
Then we’re reaching for one another, quickly discarding our clothes. Our bodies melt together as we tell each other we love one another again, this time without words.