4. Because it’s icky…
Because it’s icky…
I never got the whole biological clock nonsense until I realized it wasn’t nonsense, my uterus was literally a ticking time bomb, and I was deep in some Edgar Allan Poe shit. That metaphorical tick, tick, ticking was driving me fucking crazy!
“Why don’t you come up to the city for a bit,” Phina, Hale’s sister, suggested.
I called her for emotional support after taking yet another negative pregnancy test. “I don’t know. I’d have to make arrangements with Andrew for Elara because Hale has to fly out to Bangkok tomorrow.
“We could have lunch at La Crocodile and drinks afterward at Per Se,” she tempted in a cajoling heiress tone she probably mastered at age six. “Come on, Rayne. It’ll be a perfect day and probably just what you need right now.”
I sighed. Phina did know how to make a girl feel special. “When?”
“Let me look!” Pages fluttered as she flipped open her day planner. “Oh, darn. I’m booked solid this week, but next week I’m open. How about Friday the eleventh?”
My gaze moved to the calendar. Elara had a pediatrician visit earlier that week, but nothing else scheduled. However, the eleventh was blocked off for other reasons.
Seeking out the non-fertile day, I suggested, “How about that following Tuesday?”
“You want to come on a Tuesday?” she asked in surprise.
“Mid-week is easier to plan with Andrew, especially if Hale’s away. I don’t think Per Se would be as relaxing with a toddler running around.”
“True. Okay. Tuesday the fifteenth works.”
I jotted it down. “Thanks, Phina. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too. I’m even going to book us a little treat at the spa, so make sure your flight gets in early.”
Ah, the spa. That touchy-feely kind of pampering Seraphina loved to partake in. I personally couldn’t stand being touched by anyone other than Hale and found massages to be less indulgent and more along the lines of awkward torture. But I didn’t want to rain on her parade.
“Great. I’ll text you my flight details as soon as I have them.”
Traveling meant doubling up on my workload with school and Remington plus spending extra quality time with Elara and Hale before I left, which was fine because all of those distractions took my mind off other things.
I plowed into my syllabus, moving full speed ahead until about two o’clock when a splitting headache developed behind my right eye. That was when Remington called, asking if I was in the office or working from home.
“I’m home. Did you need something?”
“I, uh…” His voice drifted.
“Remington?”
“I forget what the hell I called you for.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Remington wasn’t usually the forgetful sort. “What were you doing before you called?”
“I was…” he muttered something, and I gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.
I disliked seeing signs of aging in Remington, so I attributed his forgetfulness to simple busyness. The man had a ton of crap on his plate.
He growled in frustration. “Forget it. I’ll call you when I remember.”
The line went dead, and I sighed. I was used to his abrupt and rude phone etiquette, especially when he was preoccupied, so I didn’t think much of it.
I read a few more chapters from my supply chain management text and that put me right to sleep. A few hours later, I awoke hunched over my notes with back-breaking cramps just as Andrew walked in the door with Elara.
“Mommy!” she called, charging for me and hurling herself onto my lap.
“ Umph! Hey, Peanut. How was your adventure?” Elara wasn’t in preschool yet, but Andrew kept her pretty busy. She had a full social schedule of playdates, museum tours, nanny circles, and fun kiddie adventures.
She held up her pudgy fist, showing off the smeared stamp on the back of her hand and frowned. “Uh-oh.”
I laughed. She was her father’s daughter. Knowing little blemishes like this stressed her out, I tried to celebrate it as a good thing. “How pretty! Did you go to the petting zoo?”
Moaning, she climbed off my lap and went to the kitchen, not distracted in the least from the horrific smudge on her hand. “Up!” she demanded, pointing to her stool by the sink.
“She’s been begging to wash it off all day,” Andrew commented, moving to help the little princess. “What do we say when we need help, Elara?”
“ Pease ,” she pleaded, leaving out the L.
I wasn’t sure if her OCD was an environmental trait she picked up from her neatnik father or something genetic. Maybe I should mention it to the pediatrician next week. And it wouldn’t hurt for Hale to curb his need for perfection around the little one.
Ha! Like that would ever happen.
I got up from the sofa and folded the lap blanket, setting my forgotten textbook and notes on the coffee table. “Andrew, next week I’m going to New York. Are you okay with that?”
“Hale’s here, right?”
“Yes. He’ll be back by then.” I typically tried to travel only when Hale was away, but this trip felt…necessary. I wasn’t sure why.
“Then that should be fine. I’ll put the dates in my calendar now.”
“Thanks, Andrew.”
He shut off the faucet and helped Elara dry her hands. “All better.”
I reached into the cup of pens by the phone and clicked a purple one open. “Oooh, look what I found.” Elara immediately looked at what I had. I drew a small heart on the back of my hand. “Pretty.”
She frowned and gasped. “Uh-oh, Mommy.” She tugged me toward the sink.
“No, I don’t want to wash it off. I like it.”
She whined as if this somehow broke the laws of nature, her tiny body helplessly tugging me toward the sink.
“Andrew, don’t you think it’s pretty?”
He lifted his head from the calendar he’d been marking and fawned over my heart. “Very pretty! Can I have one?”
I drew a star on his hand, and Elara screamed. We both looked at her in surprise and laughed.
“Elara, we don’t scream like that. ”
She marched over to Andrew and pointed at his hand. “No!”
He cradled the scribbled star protectively to his chest. “I like my star.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she pouted in frustration, stomping her little foot angrily.
“Do you want one, Peanut?”
“No.” She pulled her pudgy fists protectively close and backed up.
“Okay. You don’t have to have one. But you can’t get mad at other people for wanting one.” My little anti-control lesson cut off as a sharp cramp plunged from my back, through my stomach, and into my legs.
I must have gasped because Andrew’s face instantly contorted with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm. Yeah.” I grimaced, holding my side. “Just a little stomach issue.” Pain radiated through my back and Elara’s prior distress shifted to concern as she watched me double over and grip the counter.
“Can I get you something?” Andrew offered, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Cramps were cramps.
“Do you mind if I…” I gestured toward the steps, needing a few moments to myself.
“Go. I’ve got her. We were about to take a swim.”
I nodded my thanks and slowly lurched up the stairs. I needed my bed.
Later that night, after the red devil made its debut, I fed Elara dinner and put her to bed. Hale was working late and didn’t get in until around eight.
“You look cozy,” he said, joining me on the sofa.
“I’m not. I got my period.”
He brushed a loving hand over my head and peeked under the blanket, finding the usual suspects—a heating pad, a bag of truffles, and a box of tissues. He glanced at the screen where Dolly Parton’s face was frozen. “ Steel Magnolias ?”
“I needed a good cry.”
He sighed. “Did you eat?”
I’d eaten everything in sight, but he didn’t need to know that. “There’s a steak on the counter for you. It’s from Spencer’s.” Hale didn’t marry me for my culinary skill so he wasn’t surprised to come home to takeout.
I hit play as he warmed up his dinner and set the table. The lengths he went to for propriety made me laugh. I gave him credit, though. Hale could hire a house full of servants to wait on him hand and foot, but he preferred his privacy and liked to take care of himself.
“Will you sit with me?”
I paused the movie, wrapped myself up in the blanket, and took the seat across from him, settling in like a disheveled burrito. He held his fork in his left hand, tines down, and gracefully cut into his filet. Peeking under the table, I smirked at the napkin appropriately draped over his lap.
“Good?” I asked as he took the first bite.
“Delicious. Do you want some?”
I ate earlier, but I was always a little extra ravenous this time of the month, so I leaned forward and opened my mouth like a good little carnivore.
“Mmm.” It was even good reheated. Maybe I had an iron deficiency. “How was your day?”
“Same old.” He sliced off another bite and fed it to me. “Yours?”
“I caught up on school stuff.” I dipped my finger into his mashed potatoes and sucked it clean.
“I can get you a fork.”
That reminded me… “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about so mething.”
He glanced at me, swallowing his food before responding. “Sounds serious.”
“Not really.” I didn’t want to make too big of a deal out of it. “Elara had a bit of a meltdown today over a stamp on her hand.”
He frowned. “Who put a stamp on her hand?”
I should have known he’d see her side first. “The petting zoo.”
“What year are they living in? Haven’t they heard of bracelets?”
“Hale, you’re missing the point. She flipped out because there was a mark on her skin.”
“A mark made of ink that could trigger an allergic reaction. Not to mention the transfer of pathogens from repeated use.”
I rolled my eyes. “Forget I said anything.”
He caught my hand and stilled when he noticed the faded heart. “Is that what this is about?”
“My cootie mark, yes. I was trying to make a point, but I can see I failed.”
He traced his thumb over the faded heart. “You shouldn’t draw on yourself.”
“Why? Has ink poisoning and pen pathogens become a leading cause of death?” I teased .
“Because it’s not right to mark a work of art.”
I shoved him affectionately. “You’re sweet.” I blushed, then I licked my finger and smudged my saliva over the mark. “It comes right off.”
“Oh, God.” He looked away in disgust.
I laughed. “Suddenly, my saliva’s gross to you?”
He reeled in the germaphobia and hid his aversion to my natural disorderly conduct. “What’s the point here, Rayne? Are you afraid Elara’s like me?”
There was no doubt she was her father’s daughter. Sometimes, I forgot she wasn’t his biological child. While they still shared a genealogical link through Remington, chances were this was more environmental than anything else. “I just think it would do her good to get a little dirty now and then.”
“Why?”
“Because dirt’s healthy, Hale. There are all kinds of studies about the benefits of soil and good bacteria.”
“Good bacteria?”
“I’m sure there’s a more scientific explanation than I can offer, but my point is, she needs to be okay with a little disorder in life.”
“She knows how to make a mess.”
“Hale,” I pleaded. “Do I need to spell it out?”
He knew what I was getting at. He was a perfectionist with deep-seated OCD tendencies. Hale liked cleanliness because, in his mind, it assured he was in control. But Elara was reliant on more than just Hale, and sometimes her high standards for perfect order took a toll on those who took care of her—namely me. I wasn’t a slob, but compared to Hale I was far from tidy.
“No, I get it. I’ll try to be a little more lax around her regarding subtle messes.”
I chuckled. As he made that promise, he imperceptibly angled his glass so that it was the exact distance from his plate that it was when he started eating.
“Thank you.”
“How about you? Do you need anything other than some soap to wash that slobber and pen off your hand?”
I smiled, thinking him the sweetest man tight-ass in the whole wide world. “I could use a cuddle buddy.”
He glanced back at the television. “Do we have to watch Steel Magnolias ?”
“Yes. ”
He sighed. “Okay. Let me shower and change, then I’ll be your cuddle buddy.”
I stood in my burrito blanket and kissed his head. “You’re the best.”
“Wash your hands,” he called as I headed back to the sofa.