You name it, it’s pink, and we have two.
“Let’s go clean up the kitchen,” I say softly, heading that way. She stares up at the ceiling as I walk, like she’s counting the wooden beams.
I bring a bouncy seat over, lay her in easy, and let her watch me rinse and load the dishwasher.
Just as I’m done, Megan shuffles out, Naomi in her arms. She sets her in the other bouncy seat, then joins me in the kitchen with the rest of her sandwich. She cups her coffee between both hands.
“Mase,” she murmurs, sliding onto a stool. “I can clean up later. Why don’t you eat with me?”
“Oh—” I rub the back of my neck. “I kinda ate mine while I made yours.”
“Oh.” She nods once, small. “Okay.”
“Sorry,” I add quickly. “I just thought…we had a lot to do to get out the door on time.”
“Right.” Her voice is soft. Not annoyed, not angry, just…something else. She holds her coffee but doesn’t drink.
“But, uh—” I walk around the island and pull a stool beside her. “I can sit with you while you eat yours.”
Her eyes flick from the counter to me.
“I just don’t like the rush,” she whispers. “I feel like we’re getting disconnected.”
I still, hand halfway to her leg. Heart kicking once, hard.
“Really?” I ask quietly, settling my hand on her thigh.
She nods, eyes shining, just barely. “Not entirely, but everything just feels like business. And I know it’s…probably normal. With newborns. And two of them. And not sleeping great. I know this is just a season, but I miss us. I miss not just…surviving.”
That hits me right in the chest.
Because I didn’t realize she’d been feeling that way.
I shift closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. I think I’m just overwhelmed with the whole day—church, lunch, everyone. I don’t know.”
“Well, we don’t have to stay and hang out? We can eat and run?”
She shakes her head. “I feel like that’s rude.”
“It’s not. Wes and Addie leave early for Weston’s nap every week. And Karissa takes Gage home for his too.”
“Yeah, but the girls are still little enough that they can nap on you or in something.”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” My hand rubs her leg. “I promise, nobody’s going to care.”
She sighs, tucking her hair back behind her ear. My mind drifts back to this week. Why she’d be feeling this way. I guess it makes sense. I worked all week, per usual, but I wasn’t too lateother than one night, and my mom was here. I recall her mom here one night, and I stop my thoughts. She didn’t say help, she saidme. Connecting withme.
“You’re right,” I add. “We are surviving more than we’re connecting. But we’re still us. I promise we are.”
She leans into my shoulder a little, her forehead brushing my arm. “I just want to feel close to you again.”
I lean my head against hers. “I want that too. Tonight? Let’s make it happen.”
“No, Mason, I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about normal moments. Like breakfast. Or Sundays. Or folding laundry.”
I laugh softly. “You wanna bond over folding laundry?”
