Charlie’s laptop is open in front of her, paperwork spread out across the table, a basket of tots at her fingertips and contentment dancing in her eyes.
“Well, look who’s out in the wild.”
She stretches her arms above her head. “And it feels so good.”
“Yeah?” I take the seat across from her and pop a tot in my mouth.
Her eyes go wide. “You're lucky I love you.” She pulls her basket of fried goodness out of my reach.
“So, did Cal beg you to stay or push you out the door?”
“Neither,” she huffs, pushing her hair behind her ears. “He’s infuriatingly perfect.”
“And that’s bad because...”
“It’s not.”
“Okay...”
“He gets up in the middle of the night. He changes diapers. Does the laundry. Cleans the house. Takes care of the dog. Checks in at the store. Rubs my feet and cooks dinner, smiling through it all.”
“Uh... that sounds awful?”
She throws her head back and groans in frustration. “I know... I know... He’s perfect! And I’m irritated.” She tosses another tot in her mouth, chews and takes a deep breath. “I watch him juggling it all, happy as a damn clam, while I sit in a chair either feeding the baby or hooked up to a machine that’s milking me like a cow.”
“You know, it’s normal for a new mom to be emotional. You’re allowed. Or do you think it’s more than that?”
“No, no. It’s not the baby blues or postpartum depression. I know it doesn't sound like it, but I’ve never been happier.” There’s a hint of madness in her giggle. “I swear, ninety percent of the time I look at Cal and Gracie and wonder how I got so lucky. And then out of nowhere, like when I left the house, and he kissed me goodbye I got irritated for no reason. I love him so much, and he is the best partner I could ask for. Everything willbe great and then, bam!” She claps her hands together. “I want to punch him in that perfect face of his.”
“Girl, I’ve felt the same since I was five. I get it.”
“Seriously, what’s wrong with me? I’m such an asshole.”
“You are not an asshole. You’re adjusting. It hasn’t even been three weeks. Give yourself some grace.”
“I know you're right. But man. These uncontrollable emotions suck.”
“Maybe you’ve been doing too much. You didn’t even take a full week away from the business.”
“Woman, don’t you take work away from me. Working, even on the small stuff, is what keeps me sane.”
The attorney in her, who’s used to working endless hours a week, can’t stand to be idle.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I say, “Yes, ma’am. You work all you want.”
“Thank you.” She plops another tot in her mouth. “Now, speaking of work. Let’s talk about your meeting with the crew this morning.”
My phone pings with an incoming message.
Swift:
Give her a kiss for me.
I’ll be damned if my stomach doesn’t do a somersault when I read Owen’s message. And that pissesmeoff. No matter what my head says, my traitorous body and heart so often refuse to believe the facts of the matter.
From a distance, it’s innocent enough, but I know what he’s doing. He thinks he’s luring me intomorewith his proposedshared custody of Maui. That his sweet comments are going to win me over.
I start to text him back, but change my mind, setting my phone face down on the table so I don’t see any other incoming messages. It’s best to leave it alone, because with Owen any attention is good attention. At least in his delulu mind.
