29. Dom
Chapter twenty-nine
Dom
E llie’s distracted as she taps away on her laptop at our dining room table, on the opposite end of where her half-completed puzzle lies. The late afternoon sun shines through the window, casting her silhouette in a warm glow. Her hanging plants thrive in this space, soaking up the rays.
Ellie’s brows are drawn together in concentration as she looks from her screen back to her notebook, where she jots down notes, returning to type on the keyboard a moment later.
A wave of nostalgia hits me, seeing her at this table deep in concentration. I’m transported back in time. That was always her spot when she would work on the gift registry for Luca’s baby shower. She carefully considered each item, weighed the pros and cons of each brand, trying to keep it simple but still making sure we’d have everything we’d need to welcome Luca home.
We spent so many nights sitting together, looking at everything, dreaming about what it’d be like when he was finally here. Eventually, her pregnant body would ache from the unforgiving chairs, and we’d move to the couch. She’d lie lengthways, wedging herself between the arm of the couch, ten pillows, and the back couch cushion .
I’d join her and make sure she put extra pillows underneath her knees and then rub her feet, aching from carrying the two most important pieces of this world around all day.
We’d talk about the seemingly little things—which books we wanted to read to him, which swaddle looked best, what baby monitor we wanted. Then we’d get caught up in lengthy talks about the big things—what parts of parenthood scared us, how unprepared we felt for the unknown, what type of home we wanted to raise our family in, and how we wanted our home to feel .
It seemed to be the most important question. What do we want it to feel like being a part of this family?
The obvious things, of course; we wanted everyone to feel comfortable and happy, but more than that, we wanted it to feel safe, loving beyond any condition, a place of compassion and understanding for when life was too hard. A place all of us could shelter from any storm. A place our kids would feel comfortable talking to us about anything and asking about everything. One without shame, only growth, without judgment, only acceptance and love.
We dreamed about family traditions we wanted to continue from our own childhoods and ones we wanted to start new, our own little trio forging a new path.
An ache settles into my lungs, my breath cut short, feeling like the hope and optimism we had during that time—the anticipation and excitement—is so far away. Reality stormed into our lives and for a year, we could only focus on the next task, the next hour, the next day—caught up in a circle of survival.
I know it’s hard on Ellie when reflecting on the most challenging parts of parenthood. Like she’s comparing all of our everyday moments to someone else’s best ones.
I know parenthood is more than anyone or anything could have prepared us for. Shit, I had no idea what I was doing—still don’t most days. But looking at Ellie reminds me why I’m not scared at all…I’m doing this with her .
Luca is finally down for his nap, and god, I hope he takes a good one. It took thirty minutes to get him down, I assume because he was overtired and we missed the good window to get him to sleep .
Ellie startles as I pull out the chair catty-corner to her to sit, relaxing into the seat and crossing one leg over the other, ankle over knee.
“Wow, I didn’t hear you come in,” she says.
“You seem pretty focused. What are you working on, knockout?”
Her face lights up, and she blushes. “Knockout? That’s new.”
I shrug, running my eyes over her body. “Seems fitting.”
“ Please ,” she draws out. “If by fitting, you mean I look like I’ve been knocked on my ass and this is the best I could pull myself together, then sure.”
She’s wearing an old pajama set, one I think she got during her pregnancy.
Are those milk stains from nursing? Sure. Maybe a few holes from how often it’s been worn and washed? Seems like it. But she could wear anything and I’d still see the same thing I’ve always seen when I look at her…
“You’re perfect, Ellie. But I’m always looking for a reason to get you out of your clothes…want another one?” I raise an eyebrow as I hand her a small gift bag.
“Another one?” she says, failing to hide the surprise and excitement in her voice as she digs into the bag to find the special puzzle piece among the twenty or so regular ones.
“Another one. One week. Next Saturday, if that’s okay with you.” I was afraid to have Ellie’s mom come over today to watch Luca after our last fight about the playoff game where I committed to plans without talking to her first. It made her anxiety peak. I know better now; she needs more notice than that.
“ PJs for days ,” she reads, finally finding the piece. “What does it mean?”
“I love these.” I lean forward, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt. “But I want to spoil you.”
Her face lights up and she leans forward to wrap her arms around my shoulders.
“It’s a date,” she whispers into my neck.
***
“Okay, ground rules,” I say, clapping my hands together .
“Dom,” she says, an exasperated laugh escaping her. “Why do we need ground rules to buy pajamas?”
“Ellie.” I tsk. “How long have you known me? Since when are things that simple?”
She nods, biting her smile to hide her smart-ass smile from me. “With you? Never. Absolutely never.”
“I didn’t bring you here so you could pick out pajamas and we’d go home. That’s boring and you didn’t settle for boring when you married me.”
“I knew that boring wouldn’t be in my future from our very first date.”
“Exactly, and I’m not planning on letting you down now.”
“So, what’s the catch?” she asks. Good, she’s into this. I mean, new pajamas, who wouldn’t be? But ever since I’ve started giving her these puzzle pieces, this voice in my head won’t stop nagging that I’m trying too little, too late and it’s not enough to repair the damage we’ve sustained. I want today to prove that little voice is fucking wrong.
We’ve focused all our attention on becoming parents, trying our best to figure out an impossible task. We’ve forgotten to do the silly things. We’ve forgotten to be playful. We’ve forgotten to let go and have fun.
Sure, I didn’t need to get a babysitter just to take Ellie shopping, but she can’t focus on anything other than Luca when we go out with him. I want her attention on herself today, and selfishly, I want a little of that attention too.
Sorry, son, it’s date day. Toddler not invited.
“You need at least three new sets, but you’re not picking them. I am.”
She laughs and rolls up onto the balls of her feet. “Okay, and do I get to help? Do I get the final say?”
“You get the final say on everything we buy today, but do you get to help? Not a chance, you’ll be too busy.”
“With what?”
“Picking out my new pajamas.”
“Oh, I like this.”
“But remember, ground rules…”
“Afraid I’ll come back with assless chaps? ”
“I was not aware that this store started selling assless chaps. Please get me three pairs.”
Her laugh echoes down the aisle we’re standing in. “It’s only worth it if they’re polar fleece assless chaps. I’ll keep my eye out. Okay, rules?” she asks.
“Okay, Momma, it’s simple. We pick out three sets for each other. One is for comfort, one for family time, and one for…” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“One for sexy time?” she whispers, leaning in close with mischief in her eyes.
“Okay, if you insist.” I wink, and she lets out another laugh.
This silly, carefree part of us isn’t gone, just lying dormant. I want Luca to see us like this, to see his parents happy together, making each other laugh, enjoying our time together, even if it’s doing something as simple as buying clothes.
I want Ellie to feel comfortable enough to let her guard down and know that she can do this all the time. No planning, no permission, no sitter.
This is just the start.
“How much time do I get?” she asks.
“I don’t know, thirty minutes sound good?”
“Thirty minutes and no peeking!” she yells as she races away toward the men’s section of the store.
I don’t need thirty minutes. I spent the last week looking up options, different cuts and styles. I went through Ellie’s closet to find the sizes and measurements of the sets she likes best to get the right fit. Now, I just need to make sure the fabric is comfortable since I couldn’t tell online.
Once I grab what I need, with everything I picked out ahead of time looking better and feeling more comfortable than I was expecting, I cheat and peek at her progress.
What can I say? I’m an opportunist.
I see her head over the turnstiles and smile to myself as I watch her turn back and forth between different displays, wandering back and forth down the same aisle a few times before she heads to the next.
When she’s done, she bounces over to me and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you for this,” she says.
“You haven’t even seen what I picked. ”
“I don’t need to. This was fun no matter what you put in that cart.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because it’s time to swap,” I say, grabbing the basket from her hand and rolling the cart toward her.
“You first,” she says, keeping her eyes on me.
I bite my lip, failing to hide my smile at her enthusiasm. “One for comfort?” I ask, and she nods. She’s picked out a pair of gray sweatpants and a soft, white tee. “I know what you’re doing,” I say, holding up the sweatpants.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says with unconvincing innocence in her tone.
“For family time?” I hold up the next and she nods. “I love them. The long-sleeve Henley and flannel plaid pants are a classic.”
I hold up the last with a laugh—a pack of Halloween-themed boxer briefs. “And for sexy time?”
“You love my Halloween pants so much…now we can match! Spooky, sexy time!”
“How did you even find these…it’s April?”
“Don’t underestimate me with a sales rack.”
“I would never underestimate your rack.”
“Shut up,” she says, shoving my shoulder playfully.
“You did good, Ellie. Tough act to follow,” I say, nodding to the cart beside her.
She peeks over the edge, biting her lips together, stifling her gorgeous smile.
“ Oooooo , I love these,” she exclaims, pulling the first from the pile, forest-green waffle jogger pants and a flowy, long-sleeve V-neck shirt.
“I know you like that waffly fabric stuff,” I say.
“That is the technical term. And you’re right, I really do. One for comfort?”
“Yep, the next is for family time.”
“I love these tops for nursing at night,” she says, holding up the button-up shirt and pants set. “Should I also expect more Halloween leggings for sexy time?”
I shake my head. “Those leggings are one of a kind. You can’t recreate that kind of magic. ”
She delicately lifts the last, a light purple nightgown with thin straps and lace that will fall right above her knees.
I want to tread lightly here. I know Ellie is still working on her relationship with her body after the changes she went through during pregnancy and birth.
She hums thoughtfully. “I was expecting lingerie.”
“Would you rather switch it out? You have the final say.”
She looks appreciatingly at the nightgown. “Not necessarily. Why did you pick this one?”
I step into her, keeping my voice low. “I picked this one,” I say, drawing my hand along the small of her back to pull her in close while I speak quietly in her ear. “Because I saw this and thought about kissing your cleavage between the lace edges. I thought about running my palm up your thigh to get a peek of what’s hiding beneath. I imagined gripping your ass under this soft fabric, before spanking it because you like to mouth off in bed and I like to fight fire with fire.
“You can wear this, or lingerie, or—fuck, Ellie—you could wear a trash bag around the house and I’d still find you sexy as hell. But the sexiest thing to me, is when you feel sexy. And when I saw this…I pictured you feeling good in it, and I wanted to see it. I wanted to see it so fucking bad.”
She blushes and bites her lip, stealing a glance at my mouth. “I should double-check the sizes. I’m not back to my pre-pregnancy size.”
“Same,” I say, slapping my stomach.”
She rolls her eyes at me and crosses her arms. “Dom, I’m serious.”
“Check them, but they should be right. I looked before we left home.”
She looks away, something looking awfully close to embarrassment taking over her expression.
“Hey, Ellie. Talk to me. Please.”
“Part of me hates buying clothes to fit my body as it is now. It feels like I’m accepting that I’ll never look the way I used to again.”
“Ellie, look at me.” She does and her vulnerability is raw and unfiltered. Good. I don’t want her hiding from me anymore. “Our bodies change and grow along with the rest of us. It’s not about the size on the tag, it’s about feeling comfortable in your own skin. The clothes we wear are just the icing on the cake. Why would you feel bad about cake?”
She laughs but tries to take it back. “Dom, it’s not just my weight. It’s everything. The stretch marks, the saggy boobs. Fuck, even my hair changed, and I swear my feet are bigger now too,” she whispers, looking around to make sure no one is listening.
“Ellie, your stretch marks…”
“I swear to god, if you call them tiger stripes…”
“ Grrr , baby,” I growl in her ear, sliding my hands down to her ass.
“I love you, but that’s not helping,” she says, fighting a smile.
“Austin Powers not doing it for you today?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“Then you’ll be relieved to know I wasn’t going to call them that,” I assure her. “They’re more like…strikes of lightning. Every mark like a bolt that came crashing down during a powerful storm, forever changing the landscape with every touch. Powerful. Magical. A force of nature unleashing unrestrained power, creating something unstoppable…like a mother. Someone who would face any threat and come out not unscathed, but unbroken.” I pull away to look in her eyes. “You’re more perfect today than the day I met you, Ellie. I want you to know it. I want you to feel it.”