Iris
The taillights of the cab disappear into the night, and suddenly I’m in charge.
I head back inside, not wanting to leave Hailey alone any longer than I have to. Not that anything’s going to happen at this hour, while she’s sleeping, but I feel like I should be on the alert now. I’ve got to be ready for nightmares, potty breaks, or whatever the night may bring with a four-year-old.
I leave the bedroom door open when I go back to lie down for a bit before it’s time to get up and get breakfast. That way, if Hailey needs me after I doze back off, she can come on in and wake me up.
Dozing off doesn’t happen, though. I wind up lying there in the dark, feeling lonely and exposed without Micah next to me. Strange how my body craves his, even though we’ve only spent two nights together. It’s like the vacancy in the bed is too distracting for me to get any rest. I hope it’s not like this the whole time he’s gone. I’ll be a zombie by the time he gets back.
When dawn breaks through the window, I give up on sleep. I stretch and climb out of bed, padding to Hailey’s door to check on her before I go downstairs. She’s still sound asleep, so I take my pages of notes and go to the kitchen to get her breakfast ready for when she wakes up.
I almost cackle with laughter when I see what Micah prepped for our breakfasts:
Bagels.
I guess I can’t blame him. A chef I am not, so it makes sense that he’d stock something I know how to cook. Well, heat up. Since I’ve been awake for a while, I decide to go ahead and make my bagel now to settle my nervous stomach. I pop one into the toaster and open the fridge to see what he’s got in there for toppings. I find several kinds of cream cheese and finally decide on the one with chives.
As I’m spreading the cream cheese on my bagel, a sleepy-eyed Hailey stumbles into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Hailey. Did you sleep okay?”
She gives me an exaggerated shrug. “I dunno. You and Daddy were watching aloudmovie in Daddy’s room last night. It woke me up.”
Oops! Well, I suppose I should be grateful that she thinks it was just a movie, and even more grateful that she didn’t come in to tell us to turn it down. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We didn’t mean to wake you up.”
She climbs up onto a barstool and watches me spread my cream cheese. “You got the stinky kind.”
I guess she doesn’t like chives. “This one’s for me. If you want, Daddy has the kind with berries in the fridge. I can make you a bagel with berry cream cheese. Would you like that?”
Hailey yawns and nods. I put her bagel in the toaster and get out the sweet cream cheese.
“Miss Iris, do you have to work today?”
“I do, honey, but I’ll be working in your daddy’s office, so I’ll be right here with you.”
“Do you ever go to the big office?”
“Sometimes.” I hand her the bagel. “Mostly what I do is from home. A lot of jobs let the workers stay home now. It’s nice because I can pet Cleo and still do my work.”
Hailey perks up at the mention of my cat. “Are we gonna see Cleo while Daddy’s gone?”
That hadn’t exactly been part of the plan—there certainly isn’t anywhere in Micah’s notes about taking Hailey to my house for me to check on Cleo—but I guess there’s no harm in it. Besides, I can’t exactly leave a four-year-old alone just to go next door and clean the litter box. “Sure. I have to check on her to make sure she’s okay, so we’ll go together and see her. Sound good?”
“Mm-hm.”
Cool. That’s one problem solved. I check the handwritten notes and see that Hailey gets to watch cartoons and play in the living room for the first couple of hours after breakfast. That gives me time to log in and check my email.
While I scroll through the numerous messages from work, Hailey wanders into Micah’s office with a stuffed dragon in hand. “Miss Iris?”
“Yes, Hailey?”
She twirls a golden curl around her finger. “You forgot-ed to braid my hair.”
“I sure did! Come here and sit in my lap, and I’ll do that right now.” I scoot back from the desk to give her room.
Hailey climbs up and sits facing the computer. I bite my lip in concentration as I work, doing my best to keep the tension on the strands even so she doesn’t end up with another lumpy disaster that “feels funny.” Five minutes later, she’s got a braid that I’m actually proud of.
“Better?” I ask.
