“Aiden,did you call about the credit card machine?” Evelyn’s voice pieces my dreams. “They won’t talk to me. Aiden?”
I jolt awake, trying to remember where I am and why my boots are still on.
I was only going to nap for ten minutes.
“In here, Evie,” I call, clearing my throat.
Chloe was right—parenting is not for the faint of heart. Or the well-rested.
“You look terrible.” Evelyn props herself in the doorway, eyes raking over my scruffy disaster of a face.
I’d shave it, but my wife seems to like it. So it stays.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
“We’re headed into the weekend in a couple of days, and we need that credit card machine to work. We can’t do cash only right now; credit card business has been good.”
My brain is still sticky with sleep.
“How is it already almost the weekend?”
Between Chloe’s family and Phoebe’s illness, this week feels like it’s flown by, yet also lasted forever.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this wrung out.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she singsongs.
“I’m not in the mood.”
She shrugs. “Just repeating the mantra.”
“Go bother someone else.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Not Chloe,” I add with emphasis.
“Fine.” She disappears down the hall.
I step into the bathroom and splash water on my face. It helps, but only marginally. Some blessed soul made another pot of coffee, and I pour a stout cup before I step outside to stretch my legs.
Really, I want to see my wife in her element. Chloe’s got a couple of sessions scheduled, which get her out of the house and fill her creative soul.
Evident by how lively she looks today. Much livelier than me.
I lean on a post, ankles crossed and coffee in hand, to watch her work.
“Na-na, can’t catch me!” An adorable toddler in pigtails shouts, darting between trees.
“I wish I knew where Anna disappeared to,” Chloe says, stage-whispering dramatically. “I guess I’ll eat this candy cane all by myself…”
A tiny head pops out from behind a fir, eyes round as saucers.
“Candy cane?”
“Yes, a candy cane. And it’s all yours,”—she twirls it—“if we take a couple more pictures.”
“Is it cherry?” Blue eyes blink up at her.
“Of course. I only keep your favorites.”
The kid considers, then flops onto the blanket with a megawatt grin. Her ginger-hued pigtails bounce as she “models”, a giant smile showing tiny baby teeth.
