Roman isn’t impressed.
“Sloan.”
“Roman.”
Their greetings for each other are curt, but at least they’re respectful.
“Elizabeth said you’ll be driving tonight?”
His question is more rhetorical than anything. I’m sure he’s commenting more about the fact that she’s the designated driver but has arrived at our front door with a bottle in her hand.
“That’s right. The bottle is for Zoe.”
She runs over in her heels and gives me a hug.
“You look amazing, Bitsy. Look at my little stay-at-home mom all cleaned up.”
“Whatever, girl.” I smile, slightly embarrassed by her compliment. It only affirms the fact that I’ve probably looked like a disaster for months.
“Where’s that big ol’ baby of yours?”
“He’s napping.”
“Damn, why don’t I ever get to see him when he’s awake?”
“Because you never come over here at a reasonable hour,” Roman interjects.
Sloan rolls her eyes and continues talking to me.
“You want a drink before we go? You know, to kind of loosen up all your rusty parts and get ready for tonight’s shenanigans?”
“What the fuck, Sloan?” Roman asks incredulously.
“I meant that the drinks will lube up her rusty parts fordancing. What do you think I’m talking about?” Sloan gives him the side-eye. “Relax.”
“This is not a conversation I’m trying to have or hear.”
“Good, it wasn’t meant for your sensitive ears anyhow.”
Roman looks at me, and I give him a stilted smile. It’s clear that he is trying his level best to be on his best behavior and Sloan is just being Sloan. He knows better than anyone that I’ve been looking forward to the prospect of going out for a little baby-free fun, and he doesn’t want to ruin it for me. I just wish the two of them wouldn’t antagonize each other so much. I’m already on edge about leaving Knox tonight.
“Let me get my heels and we can go, Sloan. I’ll be right back.”
“Wear the fuck ’em heels. You know, the nude colored ones with the crisscross straps. Those will look great with the jeans.”
I can hear Roman growling from here.
“I’m wearing the wedges,” I tell her.
“Borrrrinnngggg.”
I take a second to pop in on Knox to make sure the temperature in his room is comfortable and that he’s sleeping soundly.
He looks like an angel.
He’s flat on his back with his arms spread high above his head and his head tilted to the side. His eyelashes are long and flutter slightly when I graze my finger down the side of his face.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I’ll be home soon.”
