It still smells like it’s off the showroom floor, only because I haven’t really started back yet.
Brent has been keeping the pipe job running, and all of my crew has been very understanding.
There’s just something so damn hard about wanting to leave my wife. We haven’t been apart since I’ve gotten home.
“I’m guessing you’ll find out tomorrow at the baby shower.” I pull her door open and help her up the step to her seat.
Now that my stitches are out, some of the sting has left when I sit. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’s no longer painful.
“I don’t know what would be more fun, having Sawyer and I both have boys, or having one of each?” Her finger taps her full, pouty lip as she reaches across the console for me.
Our hands weave while I pull out of the parking lot.
“I think we should have three or four of each.” I pull her thumb to my lips with a sly smirk.
She snorts. “You better get really used to this belly. And the darn stretch marks.” She points down at her growing bump.
“Soph,” I choke around the sudden knot in my throat. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Then I pause, realizing something. “You don’t mind my scars?”
“Of course not! You saved us. You’re my hero.” Tears well in her lids that she blinks rapidly to keep from spilling.
“Those marks on your body are from you being a hero too.” I reach over, flattening my palm over her extended abdomen. “This here? This is the real magic.”
She presses her hand over mine. “Thank you.”
“Now, what do you think about stopping at the bar for some mozzarella sticks, and then we take the horses out to stretch their legs? There’s a pretty spot up above the house where I want to make love to my wife while the sun sets.”
“Aw, see? You can be romantic,” she giggles.
We need to talk
Sophia
I think today isthe first time that the weight of the explosion isn’t heavy on my mind.
Oliver’s scars are fading from angry red to a softer pink. Maybe it’s because he patiently lies there while I rub ointment over him every night.
Not that he’s ever complained. I’m pretty sure he loves it.
I’m not entirely thrilled he’s going to be starting back to work full time next week. Deluding myself into thinking that we can just hide away in bed while the rest of the world goes on, isn’t going to work.
No matter how badly I wish we could.
Stretching out under the covers, my hand pats his empty spot. Cracking one eye open, I don’t see the light on in the bathroom, either.
Where did he go?
After tossing on one of his oversized t-shirts, I step out in the hall. Fresh paint? I thought he was done in the baby’s room?
“Ollie?” I push open the door to see him sitting on the floor cross-legged.
One of the scars over his shoulder is blazoned in an “S” shape. I’ve dubbed it my mark.
He’s branded with my initial forever.
When my fingers touch the jagged curve, he startles. “Hey, baby. Good morning.” His arm snakes out without looking to wrap my calf.
“What’s got you up so early?” But when I lean over him, I can see.
