Chapter 11 #2
There’s a quick flash of his abs when he lifts the neck of his tee to dry his eyes, and I have to look away, only to find myself glued to his fingers back in the water, dragging up and down to keep her warm. It suddenly feels too hot in here.
I laugh, needing a distraction. “Maybe her genius has a daily limit.”
“That’s most likely the case. Can’t make other babies jealous, you see.” He picks up the sponge and runs it over the delicious, chubby folds on her thighs.
“Her legs seem so much longer in the ten days since we arrived,” I muse.
“Ten days? That’s gone quickly.”
Everly’s loud babbling sidetracks Alex, and he doesn’t notice the pang of sadness in my voice. We leave in less than a week. “I know.”
“I didn’t realize it had been that long. Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” He turns and winks.
“It sure does.”
Everly laughs when I tickle her feet, her fists balling as she powers her arms up and down, like she’s just discovered what they do.
The warm water has turned her cheeks pink, and when her eyes close as I rub a bit of baby shampoo through her hair, her eyelashes are almost long enough to rest on them.
“Tell me about when she was born.”
Alex’s voice—quiet and earnest—stops me in my tracks.
My fingers are massaging Everly’s head, and I’m focused on her, but I know Alex is looking at me. I can feel the weight of it. Or maybe it’s the guilt weighing me down again in the knowledge that I took my pregnancy away from him.
Picking up a small jug, I rinse the soap from Everly’s hair.
“It was intense. She was a big baby, almost nine pounds.” I squeeze her chubby thighs, soothing myself in the sound of her giggles.
“She was a week early. I guess she decided she’d had enough.
Saylor had been sleeping over at my house in case I went into labor during the night, but my first contractions started around nine a.m. My OB/GYN had said to wait until they hit around five minutes apart before coming into the hospital, so we put on a movie—one of Holiday’s actually—and waited. ”
“How long were you waiting?”
“By midnight, they were still seven minutes apart.” I puff out a soft laugh.
“We’d been through four movies and half the first season of Gossip Girl.
Saylor was sleeping on my couch. I was trying to sleep, but every time I dozed off, this one decided I should be awake.
I guess I should have gone to the hospital earlier, but I was determined to do what my doctor had told me. ”
While I talk, Alex presses the buttons on the light-up toys, watching Everly. I can’t tell if he’s doing it to prevent her from getting antsy in the water, or because he can sense the words are hard for me to get out.
The birth of my first child wasn’t the experience everyone said it would be. It was hard and painful.
I lost count of how many times I shouted at Saylor that I couldn’t do it, and it wasn’t just giving birth I was talking about.
“Eventually, Saylor drove me there. Because of the contractions, I’d had no sleep and was so exhausted that the doctor gave me an epidural, hooked me up to the monitors, and told me to rest. I slept for twelve hours, and Saylor stayed with me the whole time.
When I eventually woke up, the contractions had moved on. ”
“And then she arrived?”
I look at Alex for the first time since this story started. He’s as eager to know every single detail as I am not to share it. I don’t know if he’s ready to hear about the tearing and the stitches, or the delay in getting her to breastfeed and immediately feeling like a failure.
So I nod and smile. “After more drugs and a lot of pushing, yup, she arrived.”
“Saylor was with you?”
“She was.” I laugh. Note to self, make sure your next birth partner doesn’t puke at the sight of blood. “She said it traumatized her for life, but we got through it together.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone.” Alex laughs along with me, though I’m not sure we’re laughing for quite the same reasons. But then he goes quiet again. “I wish I’d been there.”
“Me too,” I reply truthfully. How different things would be if he were. “I’m sorry, Alex. I really am. I should have—”
He finds my hand under the water and squeezes. But he doesn’t tell me it’s okay, because it’s not, and I can hear his sorrow.
“Hey. You’re here now.”
I’m too choked up to reply, so I nod and hope Alex doesn’t notice. But the force of swallowing away the thickness in my throat, combined with the temperature and the soporific scent of lavender, has me yawning. And that he does notice.
“Perhaps Everly isn’t the only one who needs to go to bed.”
I stifle another. “I think you’re right. Though I have been getting much more sleep than usual. Everly sleeps so well here.”
“Come on, let’s get her out.”
Lifting her duck towel off the hot towel rail, Alex lays it on the rug on the floor and gently scoops Everly from her bath seat.
There’s a tenderness to the way he dries her, wraps her up, and tucks her into his arm that makes my chest ache.
She’s a tiny baby with a duck hood falling over her face, protectively snuggled in the power of his bicep.
I’m so distracted by them that when I finally look at Alex, it’s clear he’s waiting for an answer.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“Let me take her tonight. You sleep through the night, and I’ll do the midnight feed.”
My first instinct is panic.
Bath times are one thing, but Everly’s been in my room sleeping next to me since she was born. What if she wakes up and doesn’t know where she is, then screams? What if she wakes up expecting me and gets Alex instead, then screams?
What if she needs me but can’t find me, then screams?
But Alex reads it all. “You’re only next door. If it’s that bad, you’ll hear her. You can even turn your monitor on if you want. And if not, I’ll come and wake you. But isn’t it worth a full night’s sleep to try?”
I chew on my cheek, weighing up the pros and cons. And honestly, I can’t find any cons, and all the pros start with sleep.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I peer into the sleepy face of my daughter, who doesn’t seem to have any objections, and nod. “Okay, thank you. But promise you’ll come and get me?”
“We promise. Let’s put her to bed together and then go and eat that delicious dinner I can smell.”
We don’t go into his room—the only place in the house I’ve yet to enter—instead, Alex sits in the rocking chair and gives Everly her bottle.
She falls asleep so easily once she finishes it I wonder if I imagined all the weeks she’d scream until she was hoarse, when I’d cry helplessly next to her because I didn’t know how to make it better.
But since we’ve been in England, she’s been less grouchy, and I haven’t cried. The crushing loneliness I felt after Everly was born is less acute, and when Alex whispers to come downstairs for dinner, I follow him eagerly.
“Oh my God, what smells so good?” he groans, making me chuckle.
“It’s my mom’s recipe. Chicken parm with mashed potatoes.” I gesture for Alex to sit at the kitchen table, but he opens the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine, followed by two glasses from the cabinet.
“My dream,” he replies, shooting me a grin, and whether he means it to be or not, it’s panty-melting.
I make quick work, hurrying to lay it out while Alex sets the table for us. It’s a far cry from the rushed meals I’d scarf down for energy, then trying to sleep before Everly woke up.
We eat and we laugh, and Alex tells me about the two hours he had to leave us to help Lando and Hendricks move the donkeys into their new field, which ended with Lando flat on his back in a pile of donkey shit.
By the time he finishes describing the scene, he’s laughing so hard that tears are pouring down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking enough to set me off.
“That was good.” Alex pushes his plate away and takes a breath. When he leans back in his chair, my gaze follows the movement of his hand slipping under the waistband of his joggers, before I realize what I’m doing and look away swiftly. “There’s no way I could learn to cook like that.”
“It’s not rocket science. It’s just chicken.”
He stands and takes my plate. “There must be something you do to it because I’ve had chicken, and yours is better.”
I follow him to the sink with the bowls, which contain mashed potatoes and green beans, and open the dishwasher to begin stacking them.
Immediately, his big hand covers mine. “Stop. I’ll clean up. You cooked, remember?”
I stop.
My brain zeros in on the sensation of him touching me, his hand on mine. It’s so slight and featherlight, but it’s as powerful as gasoline to the flames licking at the base of my spine.
Then his thumb strokes my knuckles, and it’s almost too much.
There’s no way he can’t see my pulse hammering in my throat. Or the stuttering in my chest.
I’m still in bare feet, so Alex towers over me. When I look up at him, his blue eyes scour my face, his lips parting enough that mine do the same. Mirroring. I hear air sucked between his lips. We’re so close I notice flecks of gray in his stubble, ones I don’t remember him having before.
They add an edge of distinction and make him even more handsome.
Sexier. Way sexier. If that was even possible.
But instead of leaning in, we leap apart when a ball of black fluff jumps between us.
Alex takes a big step back. Like huge. Enough for me to know I didn’t imagine that something almost happened.
“Why don’t you run yourself a bath and have an early night?” he says firmly, though his voice pitches. “I’ll clean up. I have to do a bit more work anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods, clearing his throat, and moves away another step. “I’m sure.”
“All right then. Good night, roomie,” I say. “Don’t forget to wake me if anything happens.”
“I won’t.”
I take my time getting ready for bed. I run a bath using Everly’s lavender oil and think about Alex and that cockblocking cat. Because if it wasn’t for him, Alex would have kissed me. I’m certain of it.
And where would it have stopped? Would I have wanted it to stop? Would Alex?
I remember all too well what Alex’s kisses are like. Too many times my mind’s returned to our first kiss at the bar. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel his hands squeezing my ass as his hips grind into me.
Two weeks of being around him and his morning nakedness, or the gentleness with which he plays with Everly, or the way he looks at me whenever I walk into a room, all come to a head.
While I think about it, my hand slips between my legs, my fingers pushing inside, and it doesn’t take long before I give myself the most intense orgasm I’ve had all year.
I fall asleep with a smile on my face and sink into my first full night’s sleep since Everly was born.