I had a great night with the girls a few nights back, and he left smiling, but when he came home, he slept in the spare room. He missed the night feed, and he feels distant. It’s been days now, and even though he still wakes in the morning and brings us to the bakery, then picks us up in the afternoon, he hasn’t truly come back to me. He’s so quiet and seems to be mentally preoccupied. It could be work, but I don’t think so.
Now, as I try to be quiet in the dark, early hours, which is idiotic, because Tommy is screaming the house down, I get out of bed and grab my son, hoping to soothe him.
“Shhhhh, it’s alright, honey…” I pick him up, wondering why he’s so fussy tonight. As I pull him to my chest, his cries intensify, so I rub his back and start to bounce a little. “I got you… Everything’s okay,” I murmur, but my voice is drowned from his cries. I swallow hard, knowing that he’s sure to wake up Griffin. “Ohhh, baby… what’s wrong?” I pat his back a little.
“Everything alright?” Griffin’s gruff voice has me gasping.
Looking at the door, I see him standing there, his eyes dark like he hasn’t slept for days, dressed in nothing but his tight boxers, his hair looking like he’s run his hand through it all night. He slept in the spare room again.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” I rush out as Tommy's screams intensify.
He shakes his head. “Want me to try?” Stepping into the nursery, he looks too tall for the space as he walks toward us.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to…” I tell him, yet I’m excited to see him. To talk with him.
“Let me try, sweetness.” The use of my nickname has relief pouring from my body as he puts his arms out, and I pass Tommy to him. He sounds better, like the man I know. Tommy’s still crying, but Griffin puts him onto his bare chest and rubs his back softly, kissing the top of my son's head before his eyes meet mine. “Come here.” He reaches out for me, stepping forward, his hand circling my waist. I fall into his side, and he kisses my forehead as I hug him.
“Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA,” he mumbles as Tommy continues to wail.
“It’s okay…” I start to say, melting into his hold.
“It’s not.”
“We’re a lot, I get it,” I tell him, knowing that Tommy and I are a lot for a man like Griffin. Someone who’s never had anyone in their space and occupying so much of his time.
He presses another kiss to my head. “It’s not you. It’s not Tommy—”
Before I can finish, Tommy vomits, his reflux clearly what was bothering him, the milky sickness going all over Griffin’s bare chest and Tommy’s clothes.
“Oh nooo.” I wince at the sight of the mess.
“It’s alright.” Griffin is the calm to my panic as I grab Tommy and start to undress him, his wails continuing.
“His reflux. He must have an upset tummy.” I quickly take off his soiled sleepwear.
“He needs a wash. Bring him in here.” Griffin heads into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I pick up Tommy as Griffin dims the bathroom light and steps into the spray of warm water.
“I did some research. He might like the comfort of the water,” he tells me, and my eyebrows rise.
“Another app?” I ask as I pass my screaming child to the sweet man in the shower.
“Yeah. Another app.” He’s sheepish, a small grin pulling at the side of his lips, and I smile, standing and watching them. Tommy snuggles into Griffin's chest as the warm water streams down on them both and Tommy’s cries soften.
“It’s working!” I’m overjoyed that my son is no longer screaming the house down at two in the morning and things are quiet again.
“He likes the water. We should take him to the mineral springs when he’s older.”
I tilt my head. “Mineral springs?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Natural mineral springs. It’s on Tanner's land. It’s warm, so we might need to gauge the temperature, but I’m guessing he would like it.”
“I’m guessing you’re right.” I nod, looking at my son now content on Griffin’s chest, the warm embrace something I envy and have missed.
“We’ll have to teach him to swim in the pool,” Griffin adds, and I swallow, because Griffin’s pool is massive, and as a new mother, I’m already worried about water safety for Tommy.
“Swimming lessons will be a must.”
Tommy’s face settles, his eyes closing as Griffin sways with him under the water stream. Griffin is completely wet. Water drips down his body like he’s in a swimwear commercial. I swallow as I look him over. The salt-and-pepper hair on his chest is sticking to his body, Tommy grabbing a fist full of it. His broad shoulders, his muscles all glistening. Griffin's boxers are still on, but now they’re see-through, and I feel my cheeks heat.
