A shiver runs through me at his words, pictures flashing through my mind of all of the times he’s more than taken care of me, and a thrill shoots through me straight to my downstairs.
Hey, what do you know, my libido is still hanging around after all.
“Daddy! We can do princess story?” Eleanor asks, looking up at him eagerly.
“Anything you want, my darling,” he tells her as he kisses the top of her head, winking at me.
I don't miss the double meaning behind his words, and I can’t help but grin as I back out of the room, eyes still on him.
He turns his attention back to the book and the two children he is entertaining. “What do you say, kiddos? You guys gonna go to sleep on time for once tonight? Hmmm?” He tickles them on the last word, and they break out in laughter, promising him they’ll be good.
I shake my head, trail down the hallway to the kids’ bathroom to start the bathwater, mind racing.
Maybe tonight we can get back on track, back to the us we were before this…chaos that became our daily life. Finally fit in some time for each other, instead of nothing but work and kids. The voice in my head is surprisingly hopeful, optimistic, rather than the usual pessimistic side of myself that resides there. Weird, but I’ll go with it.
Once the water is running, I lay out all the toys, towels, and jammies we’ll need for two showers and two baths, and wait for the tub to fill. The nighttime routine has gotten fairly easy over the years, and luckily, our kids are actually pretty great at listening (which I am very thankful for when Idoget the chance to catch up with my other mommy friends and hear their horror stories).
With the hellhound I was growing up, I was sure Fate was gonna get me back, but so far, we’ve been blessed.
It’s probably Chance. He’s always been one of those people who can smooth rough waters, bring calm to just about any situation, and ease tensions when they build.
Parenting comes naturally to him. The negotiating, bartering, and diplomatic skills he’s been wielding his whole life really come in handy for more than his sales job at my bestie’s family’s marketing company.
Who knew those same skills would translate so well to parenting?
I mean, in both cases, it’s basically someone talking about their problems, figuring out what they need, and reaching an agreement on how to best provide a solution. He was born for this role.
Hell, he was acting as a peacekeeper between his parents even as a young thing, and maybe our kids being half-saints is the payback he’s earned for his good deeds over the years?
Me, on the other hand? We are truly fortunate we aren’t reaping what I sowed in my youth. But that was before Chance. And when I was without my best friend Ellie. I’ve come around since then. Mostly.
* * *
Wetness leaksout from the corner of my mouth, and I use a finger to wipe it away, a smile forming as I swallow.
I slowly open my eyes and attempt to form a conscious thought, forcing my brain to put two and two together.
Drool?
Did I fall asleep?
Shit. Real sexy, Christina. At least that dream was hot…
The thoughts are coming a little more readily now, and I check the time on my phone—almost ten PM.Ugh, I can’t believe I passed out before he got back from putting Lea to bed.I roll over to see if Chance is in bed with me.
His side of the bed is empty, but the covers are thrown back, so I can tell he’s been here. I sit up, putting my left tit back in my robe where it had worked itself free during my impromptu nap, and tying the robe closed once again.Damn, this thing really isn’t meant for lying down in.
As my eyes adjust to the low light in the room, I quickly scan to see if he’s in the closet undressing or something, but I can hear slight noises coming from the bathroom, where light leaks out from beneath the mostly closed door.
Call it a wife’s intuition, but I have to check on him.
Two months ago, he got food poisoning and didn’t even tell me he was throwing upallnight, until four AM when I woke up to find him asleep on the floor in front of the toilet and got him some nausea medicine and Gatorade.
I swear, men won’t ask for help until they’re on their damn deathbed.At least mine doesn’t.
My friend Lola’s ex-husband apparently wouldn’t get out of bed if he had so much as a tickle in his throat. He made her wait on him hand and foot when he was under the weather, but not my man.
I peek my head around the edge of the door, and what I see is so much worse than Chance passed out in his own vomit.
