Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
SOPHIE
I shuffle through Will’s papers, the crisp sound of each page turning a stark contrast to the rhythmic sighs of Julian’s breath against my chest. He’s warm, a tiny heartbeat thumping in sync with mine, his small form cradled in the sling. The faint scent of baby shampoo lingers around us—a simple pleasure I cling to in the midst of endless to dos and not enough time.
“Wow,” I murmur under my breath, scanning the detailed graphs and bullet points that fill the business plan. As much as I hate to admit it … Will is pretty good at this. Innovative ideas leap from the pages, fresh strategies that not only breathe new life into the business I’ve been running for years now, but also work without having me at the centre of everything.
Will … he gets it. His vision is clear and aligns so perfectly with what I’ve been trying to achieve for years, ever since I became a mom.
Julian stirs slightly, nuzzling closer as if he can sense my mounting optimism, or maybe he’s just seeking more warmth. I press a gentle kiss to his forehead. I’m comforted by his presence—by this little being who relies on me completely. The weight of our world on my shoulders is overwhelming at times, but right now, it’s just us, and it feels manageable.
Thanks to Will. Damn it.
Trying to ignore an oncoming headache, I congratulate myself for taking a chance and going to Will. It didn’t kill me to ask for his help, even though it kind of felt like it in the moment. And last Sunday, when we came across him and his nephews at the park, there was even a moment where I didn’t completely despise the time I spent with him.
I even had fun.
But that doesn’t matter.
I shake off the memory of him smiling with his nephews and focus my attention back on the pages in front of me. I don’t care if I had fun for a moment. I can’t allow him further into my life than he already is. Even if his full-bellied laughter as he played with the kids sent a jolt of warmth down my spine.
The shrill ring of my cell phone slices through my hazy thoughts. I flinch and Julian stirs. Luckily, he only shifts in his sling but doesn’t wake as I reach for the cell phone on my desk. A knot forms in my stomach.
“Hello?”
“Ms. C?té?” I recognize the voice on the other end as Tiffany, the director of Heather’s daycare. My stomach squirms more. “It’s Tiff from The Learning Ladder. I’m afraid Heather has come down with a fever. We need you to pick her up as soon as possible.”
Dread builds in my chest. Great. Just what I need right now. I glance down at Julian, still sleeping soundly against me, and feel a surge of protectiveness.
“Of course,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’m on my way.”
I hang up and try to mentally prepare for the juggling act ahead. But before I’m done getting ready to leave, the phone rings again.
This can’t be good.
“Hello?”
“Ms. C?té, Gwen’s school here. I’m sorry, but Gwen has just thrown up, the poor sweetie. She needs to be picked up immediately.”
This is a nightmare. I must be asleep.
A wave of nausea hits me, and I’m not sure if it’s in reaction to this news, or because I’m coming down with whatever has hit the girls, too. “Thank you, I’ll be right there,” I say, though what I want to do is scream into the void.
I hang up, the weight of my solitude pressing down like an unwelcome blanket of snow. This is exactly why I’m working with Will. For days like this. Right now, I still don’t know how I’m going to catch up with everything else I still need to do, but I’m hopeful that in the future, I’ll have better systems in place to keep everything running when family beckons me.
It would make all my efforts worth it.
“Okay, Sophie,” I murmur to myself, rallying my spirits as best I can. “You’ve got this. You’re Sophie motherfucking C?té.” But even as I say it, I’m not sure I believe it.
The throb in my temples intensifies, and I wince. I press a hand to my forehead, willing away the pain, but it’s stubborn. My body feels heavy, each movement sluggish and drained. I hadn’t noticed it before because I was too focused on my work.
No, not now. I can’t afford to be sick.
I try to think as quickly as I can. I don’t have much time before I need to rush and grab the girls. Mom is out of town this week on a vacation. All my friends are working. That only leaves …
I grunt as I realize what I have to do, then bring my phone back up with a shaky hand. The screen blurs for a second before I find Matthew’s number and press call. It rings and rings; hope dwindles with each hollow tone. Then his voicemail greeting washes over me.
I hang up without leaving a message, internally groaning. What’s the point?
The silence that follows is crushing. Isolation wraps its cold fingers around my heart and squeezes. Matthew showed me last week that I can’t depend on him if it’s not his time with the girls. I’m on my own.
I swipe at a tear that dares to escape, scolding myself for the moment of weakness. My girls need me.
The keys jangle in my hand as I fumble with the lock. Once inside, the air feels heavy—or maybe it’s this sickness clouding everything I perceive. In one hand I have Julian’s carrier, while my other arm holds Heather close. Her head is burrowed against my shoulder, heat rising from her tiny body. Gwen trails behind us, a ghost of her usual vibrant self.
It tears me apart that I can’t carry my oldest. She needs me just as much as the littles. And right now, I can’t give her what she needs.
“Mommy doesn’t feel so good,” I whisper, ushering them into the living room. The couch becomes our makeshift sickbay, strewn with blankets and stuffed animals.
“Water, Mommy?” Heather’s voice is a rasp; it cuts through me.
“Of course, baby.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m splintering. I shuffle to the kitchen, each step laborious. The coolness of the faucet handle is a brief respite for my clammy palm. Glasses fill, one, two, three—the third for me, a desperate attempt to quell the nausea building.
“Here you go, sweeties.” Placing the glasses on the coffee table, I manage a smile.
Gwen curls up in a ball, her blue eyes hollow pools reflecting back my own pain. Heather sips slowly, her forehead crinkled in discomfort. Meanwhile, Julian, who’s thankfully doing fine, remains satisfied playing with his toys on the floor. At least for now.
My phone buzzes. I pick it up and see the Slack notification glaring back at me. Slack is where Will and I keep our business communications, so this has to be him.
I click the notification to read his message and notice he’s sent me quite a few, asking for updates on the business plan. I was supposed to send over my approval two hours ago.
His last message reads:
Will
Is everything okay on your end?
I roll my eyes. No, everything is not okay, but then again, he has no way of knowing that, and I don’t have time to clue him in on how my life is a complete mess right now.
Instead, I reply with a simple message:
Sophie
I can’t cope right now the approval will have to come later
There. I’m the client; if he’s not happy about me being late, he can deal with it like a big boy. I’ve got more pressing things to worry about.
On one end of my couch, Heather is curled up, looking utterly miserable. Her cheeks are flushed, her little body shivering.
At that moment, Gwen, who’s lying on the other end of the couch, writhes around with a groan. She doesn’t look much better than her sister, her face pale and eyes glassy. “Mommy, my tummy hurts,” she whines.
As if on cue, I feel a painful gurgle in my own stomach. I take a few deep breaths, trying to fight the nausea. Just then, Julian begins wailing from the floor. It’s time for his feeding.
Shit.
I try to ignore the painful stabs in my stomach as I scoop him up, cradling his little body close as I make my way to the couch. As soon as I start nursing him, an intense wave of nausea hits me. I clench my jaw, willing myself not to be sick.
But it’s no use. I quickly lay Julian back on his playmat crib mid-feed, ignoring his angry cries. I sprint to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before vomiting violently.
My whole body shudders with each heave. Cold sweat drips down my forehead. I cling weakly to the toilet, feeling completely depleted.
In the other room, Julian’s cries grow more frantic, wrenching my heart straight out of my chest. I take a few deep breaths, then slowly get to my feet, legs trembling. After rinsing my mouth in the sink, I make my way back to hell.
But before I reach the living room, my phone rings. Will’s calling. Ugh. I’m not answering that. I can deal with him later.
I’ve already got one disaster on my hands.