Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kemp
Fuck.
I sat there in my too-small desk chair, frozen in place, as Anna walked out of the bedroom.
I heard her closet door open and close. Her dresser drawers shut. Her keys jingle. She opened the nursery door, likely checking on Oliver, then closed it so softly I could barely discern it.
The front door shut. Her car started. Then it drove away.
And I was alone with my miserable, stupid-ass self. Still frozen in place.
Exactly as I deserved to be.
Why would she stay? Who in their right mind would want to put up with me right now?
Even the dogs were happier out in the yard.
I’d bitten off a lot, and finishing today’s exam was only the first obstacle cleared.
I had several more until life would calm down again, and even then, I knew it would be a challenge.
I sat back in my chair, my chest weighed down with sadness and self-disgust that I couldn’t seem to balance things better.
Sleep would be helpful, would allow me to think more clearly and regulate my frame of mind better, but with a teething seven-month-old who didn’t sleep through the night, that was turning out to be a pipe dream.
Not Oliver’s fault. He was just doing his seven-month-old thing.
I was the one who needed to figure it out.
Sleep when the baby sleeps, everyone said. I’d been studying when the baby slept. Studying when he was awake. Working through both.
I dropped my head backward, face toward the ceiling, trying to breathe underneath the weight of everything I needed to handle.
Anna had willingly taken on extra, and I’d let her.
I knew better than anyone that she over-gave of herself, and I’d fucking let her.
Taken advantage of it, even if that hadn’t been a conscious thought until now.
“Could you be any more of a shithead?” I asked myself, quietly now because I barely had the energy to move, let alone rant around like a goddamn moody fucker. Also because I didn’t want to wake up Oliver.
Part of me wanted to chase Anna down and beg her to come back. The thought of her not being in my bed tonight was devastating.
A bigger, smarter part of me recognized she was justified in getting away from me and this mess I was in. She deserved a break, a night of decent sleep, some calmness. Some time away from the stormy asshole who’d bitten off too much and was doing his best not to choke.
I deserved the empty bed and the loneliness.
If I could get through the next test, I’d do better somehow. I had to. I couldn’t lose her. But I also couldn’t expect her to pay the price for my ambitious goals.
Swearing again, I straightened and awakened the computer. I had a shit ton of reading to do for the leadership course. The deadline to take the next exam was tomorrow at midnight.
I turned on the baby monitor, knowing Oliver must still be asleep if Anna had left him alone. Back at my desk, I opened the section on personnel conflict resolution and began reading, slapping my cheeks repeatedly whenever my eyes closed without my permission.
Sometime later, still at my desk, I woke up with my head propped on my hand.
The room was dark, and the computer was asleep.
Oliver’s baby mumbles coming through the monitor eventually registered in my groggy brain.
I stood, disoriented, feeling like a stranger in my aching body, and trudged to the nursery.
“Hello, Ollie-O.” My voice was hoarse with fatigue, but that didn’t stop him from smiling up at me from his crib. “We’ve got this, little man. I’ve been messing it up with Anna, but I won’t do that with you.”
I picked him up and straightened, holding him against my chest. My eyes closed as I breathed in his baby scent and focused on the weight of him in my arms. He was all innocence, love, and trust.
This kid and Anna were everything to me.
I had a lot to figure out regarding Anna, like how to fix us and how to better manage my responsibilities, but right here and now?
Oliver had to take priority over all of it.
With Anna gone, it was all on me, and while I might’ve skated by and relied on her too much the past few weeks, it was time for me to step up.
Once Oliver’s diaper was fresh, I carried him to the kitchen, settled him in his high chair, and let the dogs inside. I filled their bowls with kibble, then fed Oliver his dinner while I munched on a sandwich and ruminated over my situation.
It was nearly seven p.m., which meant I’d slept for more than an hour.
I had no memory of anything I’d read about conflict resolution.
My eyes were gritty and dry with exhaustion.
The chances of me being able to read three long chapters and learn all the material in just over twenty-four hours, then take another brutal long-answer test were slim, even if I did something drastic like call out from work at the brewery tomorrow.
I needed a solid few hours of sleep under my belt to get back on track, and I knew tonight would likely be another adventure with my teething son.
Studying while comforting Oliver was more frustrating than effective, as I’d found out last night.
Then it became a vicious circle of my frustration cranking him up more.
“Gonna have to do something I’m loath to do, Oliver,” I said as I scooped up another spoonful of green bean mush and held it out to him.
When we finished eating, I moved him to the living room floor, grabbed my laptop, and stretched out next to him.
I opened my email and sent a message to the instructor of the leadership class asking for an extension on this unit, hating every second of asking but knowing I couldn’t avoid it anymore.
Then I got busy rereading the chapter I’d tried to start earlier. A couple days’ grace period would help with my immediate jam, but I still had to get through a few more challenging weeks.
I did my best to focus on the material and block out the worry in my mind and the ache in my chest.