22. Harmony
CHAPTER 22
Harmony
I put the rolls in the oven at the same time I hear the front door open and then my name being screamed, “Momma!” I shut the oven at the same time he turns the corner and walks into the room, his face beaming, and I mean beaming, even more than on his birthday and Christmas morning. “Momma,” he says, and I see his hands are filthy. It’s not just his hands. Dirt is also smeared on his face, his beautiful face, but the smell; it’s the smell that makes the smile escape my face. “I caught a fish.” He jumps up and down in front of me, causing the smell of fish to linger around me. “And Brady caught none.” I look over my shoulder at Brady standing there not looking dirty at all, but his face is just as beautiful as my boy’s and just as happy.
“He didn’t?” I ask as I push him toward the sink where I turn on the water and point at his hands.
“Nope,” Wyatt confirms, pumping soap into his hand before washing them, “only me, and it was a big one. Brady said it was bigger than the first fish he ever caught.” I look over my shoulder at Brady, who is now standing in front of the island and looking around.
“Wow,” I reply as his eyes go from the counter to the stove to the oven and then back to me. “Isn’t that fun?” He just nods.
“Did you sleep?” Brady barks out, and I don’t think he’s even aware of how tense his tone is. But when he sees Wyatt looking at me and then at him and he stops smiling, he quickly adds, “You were supposed to get rest, not clean the house.” He shakes his head. “You had one job,” he mumbles this time, making Wyatt laugh.
“Why don’t you go up and take a shower?” I urge Wyatt, who nods. “Then we can eat.” He dries his hands by waving his hands up and down before running out of the room and then stopping.
“Thank you for taking me fishing, Brady,” he says with his megawatt smile before running up the steps.
We both wait before the door slams shut before either of us talk. “Yes,” I quickly say, walking around the island, “I did nap.”
“For how long?” he asks. “Ten minutes?”
“You guys have been gone for close to four hours.” I look over and see it’s just a bit after one. “I was not going to sleep for four hours, but I did nap for two, and then I?—”
“Then you got out of bed and cleaned my house and cooked?” He chuckles.
“Well, we have to eat.” I try not to laugh at him. “It’s Sunday, and I usually make us a roast,” I tell him, “but I didn’t start it on time, so baked chicken is what we are having.” His face goes to the oven. “I also made you an apple pie since you liked it the last time.”
“My father demolished the last one,” he informs me, and my mouth hangs open. “I had one piece and took it to him because it’s his favorite.”
“I should have made two.” I look back at the rack that has the pie on it. “Actually, you can take him the whole pie and we can have the peach cake I tried this morning.”
“Baby,” he murmurs softly, “I only had one piece of your pie, and it was the second-best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“The second?” I ask. One look from him and I know what the first one is. The back of my neck burns, and I immediately feel my cheeks getting pink.
“I see you got what the first thing is,” he teases in a whisper. “I’m going to go shower, and then we can have lunch. Then tonight, I’m going to have my own dessert.” My mouth goes dry while other parts of me get wet with the thought as he bends and kisses my lips softly before walking away from me.
I stand here in this kitchen that I’ve spent maybe five hours in, and I’ve never felt more at home before. Not when I was in my house, not when I moved in with Winston, and definitely not since I left him. But here, here is where you would want your family to live.
“Harmony,” Brady snaps, his voice tight, and I close my eyes. I walk toward the staircase, looking up at him.
“Yes?” I say, and his eyebrows go up at my nonchalant tone.
“You sure you napped?” he huffs out. “Because I find it very hard to believe.”
“Why is that?” I ask, biting my lower lip, trying not to laugh at him.
“You did my laundry,” he hisses and looks up to make sure Wyatt can’t hear him.
“Well, yeah,” I snicker. “It’s a surprise you still had clean clothes to wear.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” He rolls his eyes.
“I couldn’t find the basket.” I shake my head. “Now go and shower. I’m hungry.”
“It’s a shame Wyatt is here because I sure would like you to wash my back.” His eyes go into a laser-point stare down with me. “Not as happy as I would be to wash your back.”
“Go”—I use my mother voice and point at his bedroom—“or else.”
“Baby, only one person is going to be issuing orders and spanking”—he winks at me—“and we both know that’s going to be me.”
“Brady!” I gasp and look at the door, really making sure that Wyatt isn’t listening. “No dessert for you,” I scold, and my hand flies to my mouth because I didn’t mean that dessert. “I didn’t mean that dessert.”
He smirks and then gives me a devilish grin. “We both will be eating dessert tonight. Maybe even at the same time.” He turns and walks back into his room, and all I can do is shake my head. It dawns on me that for the first time in a long time, or maybe even forever, I’m really looking forward to bedtime.
“Bedtime.” I get up off the couch after the movie finishes and look over at Wyatt, who starts to protest, but you can see how tired he really is. He’s overtired at this point. After his shower, the three of us sat at the table eating as if we’ve been doing it forever. With all the food put away, Brady walked us over to our house to grab a couple more things and Wyatt’s school stuff.
He took Wyatt and made him help him with chores outside before grabbing the baseball and tossing it for a couple of hours. After we devoured lunch, we lounged around watching a movie. Until Wyatt started asking what was for dinner, which was two frozen pizzas thrown into the over and eaten in front of the television while they watched football. Something Wyatt’s never done before, and he kept asking Brady questions and, with all the patience in the world, he answered every single one. I somehow see this is going to be on my Sunday television for the foreseeable future.
“But, Momma.” He rolls off the couch, trying to protest, but stops and walks toward the bedroom.
“Oh, boy.” I follow Wyatt up the stairs as he drags his ass up them. “Someone is tired.”
“No, I’m not,” he refutes, his mouth going into a yawn.
“Night, buddy,” Brady says from the entrance.
“See you tomorrow, Brady,” he replies as he makes his way to the bedroom he claimed when we got here yesterday. He puts one knee on the bed and then climbs in. “Can Brady take me to school tomorrow?” he asks me softly.
“I don’t know, buddy,” I answer. “I think he has to go to work.”
He turns on his side. “I’ll ask him and see what he says.” Wyatt doesn’t say anything else because he is asleep in seconds. I bend to kiss his head before walking out of the room, finding Brady waiting for me.
He wraps one arm around my waist. “Waited all day for this,” he says softly as he moves me to his bedroom. “Fuck, all night.” He bends his head to mine. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you two.” That’s the last thing he says before his mouth claims mine. My tongue comes out to meet his with urgency. It starts with urgency, and then it slows down, as if he’s taking his time.
And does he ever take his time. Having him lay me down in the middle of his bed as he undresses me, at the same time he kisses me, is the most romantic thing I’ve ever had happen to me. His fingertips trailing along my body drive me crazy. We spend hours touching, biting, kissing, and savoring each other. Wearing another T-shirt of his while tucked into him, I sleep like I’ve never slept before.
I get up before my alarm, making sure I don’t wake him. Which lasts until I hear a soft alarm at five fifteen before seeing him walk into the kitchen. Sleep is in his eyes as he walks around the counter, not saying a word before wrapping his arms around me from the back. Burying his face in my neck, he mumbles, “Good morning.”
“Why are you up?” I ask.
“To make sure you get out okay and keep an eye out,” he states, and my chest contracts. I get dressed, and he’s already placed the box in the truck when I get back downstairs. Delivery is a breeze, and when I walk in, he’s waiting for me. “What time does Wyatt have to be up?” he asks me as he starts making breakfast.
The lump in my throat is there when I see him smile at my son as he tells Wyatt he’s coming with us. When we walk him to the fence together, a couple of the moms look our way while he side-hugs Wyatt and he runs in. “You okay?” He looks over at me as we make our way back to the house. I don’t know how to answer him. I also don’t have a chance to answer him because I spot the police cruiser in my driveway. “What the fuck is that?” Brady hisses, putting the truck in park and jumping out. He doesn’t even wait for me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he snaps, not even close to them, but the officers both look at us.
“Morning,” one of them greets. “We’re looking for Harmony Cartwright.”
“Why?” Brady questions without me saying a word.
“We have a couple of questions to ask her,” the second one offers, and he looks like he doesn’t want to be here.
“Like?” Brady says, and I can tell he’s going to lose it, so I put my hand on his arm.
“That’s me,” I say.
“I’m Deputy Redmond,” the one who asked for me introduces, “and this is Deputy Montoya.” He motions to the guy looking at Brady, the two of them sharing a look that I have no idea what it means.
“Okay,” I say, not sure what the fuck is going on.
“We would like to ask you some questions,” Deputy Redmond repeats.
“Like?” My heart starts to speed up.
“Mr. Winston Cartwright’s vehicle was vandalized last night,” he says at the same time Brady hisses.
“He said the two of you got into a little tiff a couple of days ago,” Deputy Montoya fills in.
“You could say it was a tiff,” I finally snap, “since he showed up here and put his hands on me.”
Montoya looks at Brady, his jaw going tight. “He suspects that you did it.”
“Well, he’s wrong,” I quickly defend myself.
“Where were you last night?” Deputy Redmond asks me, his beady eyes becoming even more beady.
“She was with me,” Brady cuts in, “all night, didn’t move from my bed.” I gasp. “Now, you want to ask her any more questions, you contact her lawyer.” He slides his hand in mine. “Have a nice day, gentlemen.”
I follow him toward his house, the tears already coming down my cheeks. He lets my hand go when he opens the door and steps in. My head is down as I jump when he slams the door. “Call Ryleigh.”
I turn to look at him, the man who has no reason to put himself out there. The man who has made my son smile more in two days than his father did in seven years. The man who I’m going to miss the most. “There is no need,” I tell him softly. “I’m leaving.”
“What?”
“I thought I could do it,” I admit, wiping the tears away. “Thought we could be civil and live in the same place, but we can’t.” I shake my head, the defeat running through me. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not leaving!” he roars, advancing at me, his hands coming up to hold my face.
“I’m—” I start to say, and he just shakes his head.
“You aren’t fucking leaving.” His forehead falls to mine. “I’m not letting you leave me,” he whispers, “not now and not ever.”