Chapter Seven Madelyn
Mercer paid for my groceries.
Sneaky. He did it without my noticing. He was asking me to look at the cookbook (well, really more of a magazine) that he bought, and his tentacles were dipping into my cart, putting stuff on the little checkout stand, all while rocking Zack to keep him asleep, blocking my view with his broad top half, and gesturing with his tentacles at different potato dishes.
I was upset at first, but then he pointed out that it was his fault—according to him, anyway. I was only out buying groceries because I’d second-guessed his offer, and if he knew more about human manners, maybe he wouldn’t have made such a faux pas.
So, of course, then I had to tell him that it was kind, generous, and not faux pas-ish at all. I had to watch this gorgeous hunk gently place my son in his car seat while, at the same time, unloading groceries into the other side of the backseat.
Damn, those are some long, strong tentacles.
It made me think about other long, strong things.
I stared too hard, startled myself when I realized I was staring, tripped over my own flipflops, and one of those big, muscular tentacles just reached out and wrapped around my waist like it was choreographed.
Suddenly, I was wondering what it would be like to dance with a kraken. To swim with one somewhere private, without a toddler audience. I thought I even saw a glimpse of us somewhere tropical, locked in a passionate kiss, swirling in the water, barely coming up for air.
I felt happiness like I’ve heard about, but never found for myself.
Frankly, I barely remember driving home, putting Zack to bed, and unpacking the groceries, but I did, because I’m sitting here on my bed scrutinizing every tiny detail of tonight.
I think Mercer is awesome.
He’s the kind of man I’d want... If I ever wanted to do this stupid relationship shit again.
As if a hunk like that would want you, Eli’s voice taunts in my head.
With a grunt, I grab my laptop and open some files. Can’t sleep. Might as well work.
“Mommy. Did Mr. Mercer tuck me in?”
“No, baby. You did sleep on his shoulder.”
“He feels nice. His skin is...” Zack rubs his hands together as we ride to the lake, trying to find the right word.
I help. “Smooth? Scaly? Tough?”
“Huggy.”
Huggy. New vocab word unlocked. “He looks huggy?”
“You can hug him. You’ll see.”
“Zack, you can’t tell a person that they can hug another person. You have to let people decide who can hug them,” I explain, trying not to laugh. Or think impure thoughts about a very nice, generous lifeguard, whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude to.
“You can ask. You might get a whistle.” Zack holds up the whistle that he’s scarcely taken off in three days.
Fat chance, Flabby.
Fuck you, Eli. Get out of my head.
“Are you gonna get wet?”
I almost fly over my handlebars. “What?”
“In the lake? Will you come, too?”
“Oh! Into the water in the lake. Yes, I can get wet, but when we get home, you can’t play in the kitchen. I want it to look nice for dinner.”
“Can I call Grandma?”
“Of course.”
“Can I play with Aly-son?”
“Allison. Maybe. Mom needs to work a bunch and clean the kitchen.” I have all of Mercer’s purchases and mine in my fridge and pantry. Except the flowers. Somehow, he kept the flowers.
I wonder if krakens have some kind of magic...
I don’t have time to wonder for long. I know the answer is yes about five minutes later, when I’m getting Zack out of the bike seat, and Mercer is suddenly there, right behind me, big enough to cast shadows and yet silent enough to make me jump when his deep voice says, “Right on time!”
Zack scrambles out of my arms and across Mercer’s tentacles, and the kraken makes them ripple, so that my son is suddenly on a mini roller coaster, riding waves of dark teal, giggling and squealing.
“That’s enough fun, little kraken. Today, we practice what we learned yesterday, and then we’re going to learn to float. Floating is super important.” Mercer slides from playground to patient teacher without a breath, tossing me a pleasant smile while he leads my son to the water.
“I need floaties?”
“No, floating without floaties is important. If you ever fall off a boat or get too tired to swim, you need to learn how to float on your back, with your mouth and nose above water. It’s not hard, but it is important.”
“Mommy! Can you float?” Zack calls as I hurry behind them, a single tote bag over my shoulder, self-consciously pulling an oversized button-down shirt over my middle and thighs.
“Yep. Mercer is right. It’s very important.”
“Float with us?”
“I’ll get in when it’s floating time,” I promise, and then I plop my bag down, wade into the water up to my calves, and watch my son enjoy his lessons.
When it’s time to float, Zack is a natural, and I’m excited to get in and watch him up close, even though I’m suddenly more wary of being called out for my mom bod than I ever was before.
That’s because you like the lifeguard. Admit it.
Shut up, Horny Madelyn. We’ll get something with batteries one of these days.
I see Mercer scan my figure as I shed my long shirt and hurry into deeper water, ignoring the chill in favor of soothing the sting of embarrassment. He looked at me—and then looked away like he couldn’t get his eyes off of me fast enough.
You’d have time to stay toned, hit the gym, go mountain biking again—if it weren’t for the baby.
Eli’s voice.
I want it to leave, but it never fully has.
That’s because you know I’m right. You never got your pre-mom bod back. You just settled into being doughy like you settled into being a mom and nothing else. Not a wife. Not a lover. You haven’t been on a date since I left. No one’s asked you, either.
“Madelyn, you’re sinking. You keep stiffening up. Going rigid.” Mercer looks dismayed when I fail to stay up for more than a few seconds at a time. He’s probably thinking he’s got two pupils now.
“Sorry, just... a headache.” I think up the quickest half-truth I can. Eli’s voice that keeps popping up in my head with the frequency of a bad commercial is a pain, all right.
“Perhaps you should sit in the shade? The sun is already so bright today.” Mercer holds Zack and looks down at me with concerned eyes.
“No, no. I’m fine,” I say, then work hard to relax and let my head empty.
“If you’re worried about Zack, he’s doing great, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. See, I have my tentacles a few inches under him in case he should sink.”
“I won’t!” Zack chips. “Mommy, puff out your belly! You gotta fill up with air.”
“I’ve got it, baby, thank you.” But of course, Mercer’s eyes seem to shift to where my belly already puffs up in one single curve without any definition (unless you count soft and squishy as a definition), and I instinctively try to suck in my stomach.
I flap, and my butt sinks first. Pathetic. I’ve been swimming since I was Zack’s age! I know how to float.
Mercer doesn’t seem to think so, letting out a little grunt of alarm and inserting two tentacles under me like support beams.
“I’ve got you! Madelyn, your headache must be quite bad.
You go rest. I promise on my life, Zack and I will be fine.
You know, you probably need rest. You’ve been moving, working, taking care of Zack, surviving a scary moment.
..” Mercer turns his head from me to Zack, who is happily floating on his back and naming all the shapes in the clouds.
Even though Mercer seems to have divided attention, I can’t help but smile as I see two of his tentacles under Zack, and a third one hovering halfway out of the water, reminding me of a watchful periscope.
It’s such a safe, peaceful scene, such a kind offer, that something breaks inside. “It’s not my head,” I confess with a guilty sigh. “It’s my Mom Bod, okay? I know you’re looking, and—”
And I’m ashamed. I hear Eli’s disgusted voice, telling me how unsexy I am, and how he wouldn’t have to leave if I’d at least made an effort to be my old self, to still be his fun, athletic wife who had a lean, toned body.
No matter how many of my friends tell me I still look great, I know it’s not the trim bike-race body I used to sport.
“Zack, you’re doing great on floating. Let’s practice kicks and bubbles, now. Hold on.”
At Mercer’s command, Zack grabs a hold of one tentacle, ducks his head in the water, and blows a gargantuan amount of bubbles while sending up enough spray to water a botanical garden with his energetic kicks.
Under the cover of the noise, it’s Mercer’s turn to heave a guilty sigh.
“I am sorry, Madelyn. I know humans are more discreet and better at flirting, at the subtleties of attraction. I tried not to stare. I don’t know the term ‘Mom Bod,’ but yes, I know you are a beautiful woman and a mother, and I should not have been staring. I hope you can forgive me.”
Beautiful woman.
Staring?
Forgive him?
“Excuse me, what?”
“You’re incredibly gorgeous. And... It’s not merely how beautiful you are that makes me want to see more of you, I vow on all the waters.”
Zack keeps blowing and kicking, lifting his head in a rhythm that he’ll keep doing until he tires himself out. Yay for his sometimes-exhausting dedication to a task. I’m standing in the water with my mouth imitating a black hole, trying to comprehend what I just heard.
“A Mom Bod,” I repeat, figuring I need to tackle that first. “It’s soft. Not muscular.”
Mercer nods. Eagerly.
Huh??
“Like flabby,” I elaborate. “Fat. Stretchmarks. Big butt. Thick thighs.”
“Oh, yes,” Mercer almost sounds... breathless. “Yes, because you’ve carried a child, and you sacrificed muscle for softness, and carried him, and gave up sleep. Nursed him?”
“Oh, yeah. Saggy and soft up top,” I admit with a tight smile.
“A warrior’s body. You fought to give someone a life, to sustain him. Now, you are soft and comforting for your mate and child.”
“No. No, no. My ‘mate’ hated my body. He hated how I looked. He made mooing noises whenever I nursed Zack.” I keep my voice ultra low so Zack can’t hear over the splashing.
Have you ever seen an angry kraken?
They’re terrifying.
All the tentacles but the one Zack is holding are suddenly up and out of the water, but they don’t remind me of friendly periscopes now.
They’re like attack dogs, looking for something to maul.
His face is something out of a Greek myth, sparking thoughts of angry sea gods, teeth clenched, eyes blazing.
“He. Did. What?”
“Oh. It’s... It’s why I’m not with him. He thought I was only a mom, not a wife.
Didn’t like that the athletic girl he married became a soft, squishy post-partum mother.
I told him, too, that it was crazy to think I’d get back to the gym right away with a marriage on the rocks and a newborn, but Eli’s brain takes a hiatus when it’s focused on his own wants.
I don’t like to say things about him in front of Zack,” I hint, trying to end this conversation.
Mercer nods, but that only means one part of the conversation is over.
“I will not disparage him now, then. I will only praise you. You are stunning. Curvaceous. Voluptuous. I am speaking merely in an objective way. Everything about you is... Sensuous, and the fact that you gained all of these delicious curves from carrying this amazing child could only make any man or monster more eager to woo you.”
“Woo? No, no. No one’s going to woo me. No one would want this hassle,” I throw up walls as fast as I can, realizing too late how his words tempt me to fall into a fantasy where someone wants to make things last. Mercer might like my looks.
He might like Zack. That doesn’t mean that this could be love, or even something relationship-ready.
“What if he promised to try very hard? To give everything within himself to do it properly? Even if he is still learning what humans like. What you like?” Mercer hints.
“Mom! Mercer! I’m done!” Zack bobs up, dripping and grinning. “Can I go on the ride?”
Mercer smiles and rearranges his tentacles. “Okay, remember, you have to hold your breath when I say ‘go’.”
“I will!” Zack scrambles into position and laughs as Mercer bobs him through the water. All the while, he continues looking at me, making this whole watching-a-kid thing look so easy.
Maybe it feels easier with help, Madelyn. You know that.
“Even if a guy tried very hard, I’d be a lousy person to date,” I say gently.
“I’ve been hurt, I have a difficult thing going on right now with my ex, and I’m just getting settled.
Plus, even if someone likes the way I look, even if they like my kid, that doesn’t mean it will work.
There are so many layers to making things work.
I didn’t dig deep enough the first time.
I didn’t find out... I didn’t find out what I needed to know. ”
“If a man wants to show you, he will. If he wants to make it work, he will.”
The piece of advice I finally had to learn the hard way—if he wanted to, he would.
“May I please have a chance? I don’t mind if it takes until Zack graduates from high school for me to earn the right to hold your hand and sit beside you,” he says.
I swallow a gasp. That’s so oddly specific. A sign?
“I mean, there’s no harm in trying, I guess.”
Mercer’s smile is as toe-tingling as his fierce looks are spine-chilling. “Then I want to try.”