Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
“What are you doing?”
I startled at the rough voice, the question spoken in a whisper yet boomed through the quiet of the house.
Quiet. Such a simple concept. One so elusive those days.
I turned to find Kane in the kitchen, wearing only his boxers. Not for the first time—nor even the hundredth—I marveled at the washboard abs, the six pack that was the same if not more defined than when I first met him.
He was pure sculpted muscle.
I was … not.
Not that I’d spent hours in the gym in my prior life, but I was constantly on my feet, moving, lifting. I’d never been traditionally slim, but I was fit.
My body had regained somewhat of its previous shape thanks to breastfeeding and stress, yet I did not look the same. I was … less firm now.
Once again, I thought about my body and whether it made me less attractive to Kane.
“Chef.”
I blinked up from where I’d gone into a dreamlike existential crisis while looking at Kane’s abs.
“What are you doing?” he repeated his question.
“I’m making chocolate mousse,” I said, even though it was kind of obvious. I’d just finished whipping the egg whites and was folding in the melted chocolate.
My mother hadn’t woken during this process, which I was thankful for.
“Chocolate mousse,” he echoed. “At three in the morning. When you’ve had exactly one hour of sleep, and Mabel is going to wake up in another forty-five minutes for more food.”
It didn’t surprise me that Kane had calculated exactly how much sleep I’d had. He made it his business to catalog everything about me. How much water I’d drank, how much food I’d consumed, whether or not I was doing the prescribed sitz baths.
His little blue book was not just about Mabel but about her postpartum mother. He’d transitioned seamlessly into a caretaker for both me and Mabel.
And though I loved watching that with Mabel, it set my teeth on edge for me.
“I need to sleep,” I agreed, continuing to fold. “Because my body, my cells, my blood, my brain all need sleep in order to function. But my soul, my insides need this.” I gestured to the bowl with the spoon. “Need something else, need a reminder of who I am other than a mother who constantly feels like she’s failing. And I feel like a failure for saying even this, that I need something else. But I need to feel like I was before. Like I know what I’m doing somewhere. Here, in the kitchen, I know what I’m doing. I feel in control. I need that.”
Kane folded his arms across his chest. His muscles and tattooed rippled, and my mouth moistened, remembering those arms around me. Remembering sex.
I still hadn’t been cleared for that. I wondered if Kane would even see me that way when I was. He had his hands on me whenever he could. But it was that careful, caretaking touch. No fire.
“Okay,” he conceded, going to sit at the breakfast bar.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Go back to bed. You need sleep.”
He nodded. “I do. I’ll sleep when my woman sleeps.”
“There is no room for chivalry in the newborn trenches.” I shook my head at his asinine notion. . “It’s every man for himself.”
“Not this man.” His tone told me not to bother arguing the point further. But I wasn’t functioning on all cylinders.
“What if she wakes?” I sighed. Or what if she somehow rolls over and suffocates in the mattress without either of us there? It was a thought I didn’t utter, but it pumped nausea through me. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know how to roll yet. Such morbid and terrifying thoughts were commonplace then. I tried to brush my concern aside but couldn’t. I almost abandoned my mousse to run up the stairs to check on her breathing.
“I got her, Chef.” Kane tapped the monitor I hadn’t noticed him carrying, as if he could see the terror on my face. “I’ll watch over her. You finish.” He jutted his chin to my bowl.
I gulped painfully, struggling to even trust the man who loved Mabel just as much as I did with her wellbeing, but I managed.
I went back to the mousse, forcing myself to make slow, practiced movements although I felt the overwhelming need to hurry through the steps like I felt the need to rush through everything else. Meals. Brushing my teeth. Showers where I heard phantom baby cries.
Measured calmness, that’s what was required. It used to be muscle memory. Now I had to grit my teeth, sweat dampening my brow as I compelled myself to be meticulous.
When the mousse was put in a glass dish and into the fridge to cool, Kane jumped up.
“Okay, Chef. We’re going outside to sit for a spell,” he said, holding onto my hip.
The simple touch grounded me. His scent, his naked torso. All of that awakened something deep inside me, that desire too tired to come all the way to the surface, though.
“I need to clean this up.” I flicked my wrist to the minor mess I’d made. I’d gone into autopilot, keeping the kitchen clean and tidy, but there were still dishes to be done.
“You need to come outside with me,” Kane commanded. “You need some fresh air.”
I wanted to argue with him, but Kane had a tone that brooked no argument.
I let him lead me outside, inhaling the crisp air. Summer was still holding on, but the bite of fall could be felt at two in the morning.
My eyes scurried to the screen of the monitor Kane was holding.
“She’s good,” Kane promised me.
He then sat in the chair on the deck. I went to sit in the one beside it, but Kane pulled me onto his lap. Delicately, though. Not roughly like he had before. I was mostly healed, but my body was tender. Kane knew that, and handled me with care.
I stiffened at first, conscious of my new body, my extra pounds. Kane’s arms settled around me, and like a balm, they settled me.
The sound of the ocean crashed gently against the silence of the night.
“I’ve worked in some of the toughest kitchens in the world,” I said. “I know that doesn’t sound like something to brag about—”
“It most certainly is something to brag about,” Kane interrupted, rubbing my arms.
I rolled my eyes. He was not about to let me get one self-deprecating thought in, even when he was struggling with sleep deprivation.
“Those kitchens break people,” I continued. “The environment, the stress, the treatment from the head chef, others trying to get ahead of you. There is a reason why my profession is fraught with drug addictions and mental breakdowns. It is not for the weak.”
“You’re not weak.”
“I used to think so.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to hold on to my train of thought. “I not only survived all of that, but I didn’t become an addict, didn’t suffer any kind of mental breakdown or throw knives at waiters like some of my contemporaries had.
“I used to think that because I didn’t crack in those kitchens, nothing would break me. When you were locked away, when I thought that you didn’t want me...” I looked up at the house, the tranquil light coming from it, then down to where Mabel was still sleeping on the monitor. “When I thought you didn’t want her, I was close to losing it. I didn’t, though. I lost my mind a little, not having my kitchen, my city, my order, but I managed. And then you came back, and I thought that there was nothing more that could break me, certainly not a little baby who sleeps most of its life.” I smiled at the black and white image of our sleeping baby. “Or is supposed to sleep.” I glanced back at Kane. “But that’s what I feel. Broken. Not because I don’t want her, us. I want both of you more than anything. But I truly am doubting whether I’m capable of it.”
I expected Kane to immediately rush to assure me of how capable I was, to lift me up as he had throughout this entire experience, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at first, he just ran his hands up and down my arms, considering.
“Yeah, I get that,” he nodded. “I feel it too. Not broken exactly. But fuckin’ terrified. And, babe, I’ve been in scary situations. Not just jumpin’ shit or riding motorcycles or crashing motorcycles. I’ve been in bad situations with bad fuckin’ people. And some part of me always figured I’d handle it somehow.” His fingers stroked my hair. “Now, with her, I’m scared shitless. I don’t know how to handle her; all I know is I love her so fucking much it hurts my bones.”
He too glanced down at the monitor, clenching it so I could see his knuckles whiten under the pressure. After a handful of seconds, he glanced up to me. He looked at me lovingly. Gone was the resentment and contempt he’d arrived there with. We hadn’t even properly spoken about the events that occurred. It had felt so pressing before. Now it didn’t seem to matter as much.
“And you,” he murmured, tucking loose hair behind my ear. “I see you givin’ all of yourself, your very insides, to being the best mother you can be, then driving yourself crazy thinking that’s not enough. And I want to help. Want to tell you I’m constantly mystified by you, in awe of you. That sometimes, I just watch the two of you together and want to find a way to wrap you up and protect you both because I love you so fuckin’ much.”
He glanced down at the monitor again.
“But I can’t.” His eye twitched. “I can’t wrap her up and protect her from the world, though I’ll try my fuckin’ best. And I can’t fix you when you think you’re broken, even though I see you overflowing with brilliance. So I’ll wait.”
He kissed my neck. “I’ll be here, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done to help you feel less broken. First off, you’re gonna do something I know you’re not used to. And granted, I’m no expert, but I’m thinkin’ the key to all of this is not trying to do everything yourself. You don’t gotta suck it up and figure out a way to white knuckle it. Your mom and sister are here for that reason. And yeah, there’s a lot of messy history sittin’ at the door, waiting to be unpacked, but it can wait. For now, let them help. Let me help. And for fuck’s sake, give yourself some goddamn grace.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I struggled to contain them.
I wiped angrily at my face. “I’ve cried more since she was born than I have my entire life,” I hiccupped.
Kane wiped another tear. “Again, babe, you’re close to it, but you’re not Superwoman. You’ve gone through the biggest identity shift you probably ever will in your entire life. Plus, the hormone drop. So I’ll repeat my earlier statement. Give yourself some goddamn grace. Humans cry. Even ice queens melt.” He winked at me.
I let out a sound between a sob and a laugh.
I watched Mabel’s body move ever so slightly in the monitor, recognizing it as the telltale sign she was about to wake.
My body seemed to hum with exhaustion, if such a thing were possible.
Kane looked down at the monitor. “Let’s go get our girl.”
Once I was settled in bed, he brought her upstairs, and the second I was done feeding her, he expertly transferred her to his chest.
“I got her. How about you get some sleep? You know it’ll be two more hours until this boob hound is back at it,” he joked with a smile.
“You need sleep too,” I mumbled, my lids already drooping.
“Uh-huh. Unfortunately, I’m not Superman either, so I do need mortal things like sleep,” he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll put her in her crib soon, but we’re gonna cuddle first.” He laid his lips on Mabel’s head as he gently patted her back.
And that’s how I fell asleep, watching Kane cradle our daughter.
True to his prediction, she was awake two hours later.
We were on the sofa. We being me and Mabel and my mother.
Some TV show was playing in the background. I’d tried to follow it but had started and stopped the first episode about three different times, rewinding it because even though I was staring straight at it, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was about.
Mabel was curled up on my chest, napping. In her short life, she had not napped anywhere that wasn’t on me or my mom or my sister or her father. Maybe that was why she was so opposed to the bedside bassinet that I’d toiled over purchasing. Even if that was the case, even if I could stand to set her down instead of having her heavy warmth on my chest or her little hands clenched in mine, none of my family would be able to heed that request.
I was resigned to being nap-trapped, lying on the sofa, trying to concentrate on watching a show, trying to keep my eyes open since I knew that even if I attempted to fall asleep, I wouldn’t be able to. My mind didn’t let me.
Kane was on a call in the next room. Life had completely stopped for me. Life being anything resembling what I had before Mabel came into the picture. I’d made it clear to Heidi that I wasn’t coming back to the restaurant. Ferris was now head chef, a bittersweet moment for sure. I trusted him with the kitchen, knew that he was capable and great food would still come out of there, but that change made it permanent. I wasn’t going back to New York.
Beyond the job, New York wasn’t me anymore. I knew that in my heart of hearts. Jupiter felt like home now. It felt like the right place to raise Mabel, even when a small part of me was struggling to accept our new reality.
A quiet, coastal town that was a three hours’ drive away from my mother and sister.
For now and for the foreseeable future, this baby on my chest was my life. I’d made as much peace as I could with that, but my mind stewed over Kane.
He was speaking with a new manager now. Though he’d tried to downplay it, he’d been getting a lot of requests for interviews, sponsorships, invitations to events, requests to compete in races.
Kane had disappeared after getting released from prison, but the zeitgeist had not forgotten about him. No, he was more in demand now than ever with entire websites and social media accounts dedicated to ‘finding’ him.
I knew this because in the early hours of the morning, when Mabel had decided she absolutely was no longer sleeping in her bassinet and would only settle on my chest, I kept myself awake by scrolling those sites and accounts.
And maybe I’d driven myself a little crazy.
Although our lives were anything but peaceful right then, we had enjoyed privacy in Jupiter that was almost unbelievable. I didn’t know if it was the magic of small-town people or sheer dumb luck, but not one reporter had come sniffing.
I was aware that we could not hide forever. And although he was amazing, Kane’s life had not stopped in the same way mine had. His body, hormones and brain chemistry hadn’t been permanently altered. He was still Kane ‘The Devil’ Rhodes, but now he was also Kane ‘The Dad’ Rhodes. And the former would be hungering for the things that kept him sane.
After mulling over all of that for some time, I looked around the room, thinking wistfully about a gleaming stainless-steel kitchen, fresh ingredients, music playing over the speakers and unlimited time to cook.
“I’m not wishing this away,” I said to my mother while patting Mabel’s booty. “But is there going to be a time, any time when I can do more than hold a baby, change a baby, feed a baby, put a baby to sleep and then figure out a way to get a moment to myself?”
It felt selfish and wrong asking these questions, shame flooding through me over it. But part of me felt suffocated in the demands of motherhood and desperately needed to know how my mother had survived it. To know that there was an end.
“In the beginning, all you want is a moment to yourself,” Mom said, folding a onesie. “Then slowly, you get them. Snatches, here and there. Not enough to do much more than shower, eat, change clothes, brush your hair. Soon, sooner than you think, you’ll have more moments to yourself, more moments to do things than just tend to basic needs. And then after that, much sooner than you think, you’ll have endless moments to yourself, when your girl is out there in the world without you, and you’d give anything imaginable, you’d give away all those moments to yourself, for a second of this.” She gestured to the baby on my chest. “Though it doesn’t seem like it now, it’ll happen.”
I opened my mouth then closed it, trying to formulate something to say. My brain was slowly eating itself.
Mabel began whining as she woke, writhing atop me, her little face screwing together in distress.
At the first sound of her wail, Kane’s footfalls sounded in the hall.
“I got you, baby,” he murmured, taking her from me before I could blink, kissing my head. “I’ll take her for a walk, get her some air.”
I wanted to argue. Her cries seemed to communicate that I was continuing to fail. Yet I was determined to get through this. To be the perfect mother, despite my sister assuring me such creatures didn’t exist.
Despite this, I got up with him, helping him get her settled in her bassinet in the stroller, my mother coming in to tuck a blanket over her since she was convinced that Mabel was always cold. I rolled my eyes but let her, knowing Kane would whip the blanket off if Mabel looked so much as balmy.
“Love you, Chef,” Kane murmured.
My mother and I watched Kane walk out the door then down the drive with the stroller. I might’ve watched them until they were nothing but a speck in the distance if it wasn’t for my mother talking.
“Honey, most men, in the newborn phase, need a good jar of harden the fuck up. Women are born with it. Men usually have to buy it.”
I cocked my head in the direction of my mother, my jaw hanging open in shock. My mother did not curse. She said ‘sugar’ instead of shit and routinely chastised me for cursing—as an adult.
“He does not have to buy it.” She pointed to Kane. She rubbed her chin while looking out the window, as if searching for the right thing to say.
I was not ready for the bomb that my mother dropped next.
“Your father, he left for about six months after you were born.”
My head whirled from where I’d been watching the empty driveway in a daze. “ Left ?” I gasped. “What does that mean?”
“The first few weeks are tough,” she said instead of answering the question. “As you well know. Tough is much too kind a word for it. They’re hell. Your whole world is turned upside down. You don’t sleep. You have a wound the size of a dinner plate inside you. Your hormones are haywire. And that’s just you . You feel all this and have to take care of a baby. Men struggle with this transition. The changes in you, their life and the lack of attention that they get.”
She clicked her tongue, walking back over to the sofa to fold onesies, as if she couldn’t just stand there.
I followed her stiffly.
“Your father didn’t expect it. Any of it” She kept folding, periodically glancing up at me. “He didn’t know the reality of it, and he, well, he couldn’t handle it. So one day, he packed a bag and left.”
I gaped at her again, unable to fathom the words coming out of her mouth. My father abandoned me and my mother. That absolutely could not be true. My father was kind, caring and had adored us. He didn’t so much as raise his voice to us, not once. He never wanted to hurt us.
As complicated as my relationship with my mother was, I knew she would never lie either.
“He came back, obviously,” she continued. “When he realized what he’d done, what he was doing.”
“And you took him back,” I said numbly, trying to reconcile a man who left his wife and newborn baby with the man who coached my soccer team, who read to me nightly, who gave me my love of food.
“Of course, I did,” she said. “I loved your father. Even if I hated him for a while for doing that. And of course, I loved you more than I could’ve hated him. The reality was, I needed him. His help, his support, his financial contribution to give you the life you deserved.”
I tried to digest all of this. Tried to put myself in my mother’s shoes. If Kane left me and Mabel because it was too hard for him… My blood sizzled at the mere thought. Panic clutched me at how deeply that wound would cut me.
Kane would never do that. But if he did, there was no way I could take him back. Though I was financially solvent, had a profession, a name for myself. My mother had been a stay at home mom since I was born. She hadn’t had anything to fall back on.
“I didn’t tell you this for many reasons,” she said after a long sigh. “First, because you were too young, and maybe because I was trying to forget myself. And because your father was your hero, I would never take that from you, never take him from you.”
I stared at my mother. I took in the softness to her eyes, the delicate lines on her face. The kindness that she had never let the world carve from her.
“You let me believe he was the hero when it was really you,” I choked out. “ You are the hero, Mom.”
She smiled back at me, and the emotion between the two of us was almost impossible to handle. I couldn’t go from being Avery Hart, ice queen, childless and loveless to Avery Hart mother, in love with Kane Rhodes, to also having somewhat of an emotionally healthy relationship with my previously-estranged mother.
Too much.
Way too much.
Luckily, my sister was the queen of timing, the thump of her music as she pulled up the driveway announcing her arrival.
“That’s why there’s such a big age gap between me and Maisie,” I realized, hearing the closing of her car door.
Mom looked toward the door, nodding. “I wanted another child, but I couldn’t do it alone. It took a long time for me to trust him again.”
“Does she know?” I asked quickly, knowing Maisie would be in the room in moments.
My mother shook her head. “I didn’t think she needed to, that she should. You’re both strong in different ways. Maybe it’s a mistake telling you this now, maybe it’s a mistake keeping it from her. I’m just doing my best.”
I saw it then, the look I saw in the mirror every day, what I’d never recognized in my Mom. Doubt. Fear over failing as a mother.
I reached over to squeeze her hand. “You’re doing great.”
The moment lingered between us, and I felt the connection between us grow, something that was just ours. It always felt like her and Maisie had things I couldn’t have, but now we had this.
The front door slammed shut.
“I come bearing sugar!” Maisie cried. And thankfully, the moment was broken.