by Kat T. Masen
The door opens and Vicky appears with a shopping bag and Haden behind her.
So, here’s the thing. Since I’ve been back home (all seven days), Haden has come over every day. When I told him he didn’t have to, mainly because I knew how exhausted he was, he got offended and ranted on about parental rights. Jerk. And so he’s now formed his own groove on the couch, and I may have even seen an extra toothbrush hanging around in the bathroom. It’s like a goddamn zoo in here sometimes, but secretly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Standing behind Vicky, he is armed with what look like pizza boxes . . . oh the smell. I know I should start to get rid of this baby weight, but who can resist the smell of melted cheese?
“I got pizza, and yes . . . it’s that fatty cheese you girls want.”
“What a gentleman!” Kate roars.
“Eloise would kill me for getting anything but low-fat sheep cheese.”
“You mean goat cheese.” I laugh.
“Yeah, whatever.”
The four of us dig in while Kate turns on the TV. We get stuck watching some game show and we argue over the answers. If not for them bringing me down with their silly answers, I would have won a million dollars and a brand new car by now.
On cue, upon finishing my slice, Masen begins to squirm in the rocker beside me. I go to pick him up, placing him over my shoulder and patting his back gently. Last night he was extremely unsettled and didn’t want to feed, so of course, I barely slept.
“No offense Pres, but you look like hell,” Vicky says, taking Masen off me only to have Haden immediately take him out of her arms.
“Baby won’t sleep and Mommy would love a shower.”
“Go shower,” Haden commands.
I’m not going to say no to that; I’m desperate to feel like myself again. I stand up, sore in all the wrong places, and begin to make my way to the bathroom.
“Oh wait! So you know how you were talking to me about how your nipples were bleeding from feeding?” Vicky rummages through her purse, unaware that she just embarrassed me in front of everyone.
“Um . . . yes, but you didn’t really need to broadcast it.”
Haden snickers, his head down and a grin on his face.
“Ta-da! The Mexican nipple hat!”
She produces this small box, and lo and behold, it does look like a Mexican hat . . . for my nipples.
“Where on earth . . . ?”
“I Googled your problem, spoke to some moms at my Pilates class, and found them at the drugstore.”
“I’m not sure whether to laugh at you or hug you.”
“I think you’ll be hugging me when your nipples aren’t tugged like a milked cow.”
I head to the shower, shaking my head at her. Inside the bathroom, I carefully take off my clothes. My boobs are sore, veins popping. I decide to feed him and release the pressure after a quick shower. With my incision on the mend, I wash myself as instructed. I wrap a towel around myself after briefly drying my hair, leaving it damp. When I head back to the room, Haden is sitting on my bed with Masen.
“You feel better?”
He doesn’t look my way when he asks and I feel practically naked standing here in a towel. He has no concept of personal space and hangs out in my room every time he comes here.
“Yes, a million times better. Probably better if I get some clothes on in private . . .”
“Get dressed, then. I won’t look.”
I can’t be bothered to argue, and I head to the closet to get changed in there. I emerge moments later and stop at the vanity to quickly tie my hair up into a bun. I settle for wearing a loose, white button-down shirt and khaki shorts, hoping to take Masen out for a walk later. Not getting out of the house during the day has made me extremely restless. For someone who is accustomed to being at work all day, this whole stay-at-home mom gig is a huge shock to the system. If you ask me who guest starred on Ellen this week, I can sadly give you every name.
“I think he is hungry.”
“He is always hungry, hence why these things keep getting bigger and bigger.”
“I noticed.”
I shoot him a sarcastic smile, then settle into my chair. Haden is watching me, like he always does, and I manage to get the baby to latch on without breast exposure. I yelp at the slight sting, then remember the Mexican hat. I use it, and instantly I feel less pain. Seems like I owe Vicky big time.
“That bad?”
“That bad . . . I mean, I’ve had them tugged before, but shit . . . this is painful.”
His mood instantly shifts and he begins to fidget with the fray of his jeans. Too much nipple and boob talk. Forgive him; he is a guy after all.
“I really need to get out of here,” I sigh, switching subjects.
He lifts his head, making eye contact. “How about we go for a walk? It’s a warm night out.”
“Sounds perfect.”
***
The walk is just what I need. The night air is warm with a slight breeze that picks up as we turn the corner. The streets are still bustling with people heading out to dinners and clubs. It’s a Friday night, and it feels so different to be pushing a baby around the streets.
An old lady is sitting alone at the bus stop. Clutching onto her purse, she peers down the street, looking out for the bus. She stops, noticing us, and smiles. I smile in return and when it’s time to walk past her, she greets us.
“What a beautiful baby!” She peeks into the stroller, admiring Masen. “I’ve got eight children and thirty-four grandkids.”
“Wow, you must have been really busy,” Haden says.
I jab him with my elbow, reading his dirty mind. He grins in return as I shake my head at him, smiling. She pulls back and something about her changes, almost as if we had touched on a sore subject. Haden and I look at each other, confused by what just happened, then turn back to face her.
“None of them are in the city. In fact, my George lives in Japan. Imagine that? Living all the way in Japan. My youngest, Maggie, visits every Christmas.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you,” I tell her.
“It is. But then I see a couple like the two of you and it reminds me of when my husband Frank and I used to walk down this exact street with baby George. It was before he went to the war. I remember it like it was yesterday,” she says wistfully, clutching onto a gold necklace draped around her neck.
“We’re not actually a couple,” I correct her. Haden glares at me for clarifying that point.
“Well, you certainly look happy, the both of you. Enjoy these moments, because before you know it, you’re catching the bus to go home alone.”
The bus pulls up to the curb and the old lady waves goodbye. She had a point . . . one that kinda sticks with me. Thirty-two years of my life have passed, and now Masen is here and all I want to do is freeze time so I can cherish this moment. Life is short, and as I look over at Haden tucking Masen into his blanket, I wonder what life is all about. Love, laughter, happiness? And how does Haden fit into that equation? I have to admit, since the hormones died down, we get along much better. We are friends. We are partners for the sake of raising our son. Do I look at him in a romantic way? Not really.
But then my focus moved on to Masen. My goal each day is just to try to stay awake and feed my son. Talking with this woman about her life has caused loneliness to wash over me. I want everything she just said. Babies, a husband, and a lifetime full of happy memories. Watching the man who helped create our son pushing his stroller, it triggers the emotions I keep pushing away.
“You okay?” He stops just a few steps away from a busy restaurant blaring loud Spanish music.
“Who would have thought that you of all people would be spending your Friday night pushing a stroller?” I say, ignoring my emotions and motioning for him to continue walking.
With a sly smirk, he continues to push our son, stopping only to wait for the lights to change. “Who would have thought that Miss OCD would have forgotten the baby
bag at home? Because someone’s definitely dumped his load.”
I scowl as the whiff of his soiled nappy hits my nose. Haden turns the stroller back around as we begin our journey home again. How silly of me to think Masen could go ten minutes without pooping his pants!
“Sometimes I don’t know what’s happened to me, you know? It’s like my focus has shifted and I can’t think ahead. Take, for example, the apartment hunting. I have no idea what I’m after or where I’m even looking. Old Presley would have found a place by now, moved in and already repainted the walls.”
“You’ve gone through a lot. It’s expected.”
“Maybe. The only place I’m even semi-excited about is this cute bungalow a street away from Gemma’s.”
He stops, prompting a couple behind us to swerve in annoyance. I swear I hear them curse under their breaths, but Haden is oblivious.
“As in, California?”
“Uh, yeah.” I take the stroller from him and continue pushing, hoping this argument can be avoided. What was I thinking? It’s merely an idea I’ve been toying with because Gemma and Melissa would be able to help me out. Nothing is concrete.
“Were you going to tell me about it?”
“No, because I was only looking. If I felt it was more serious, then yes, I would.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were thinking about it! What about Masen? I live here . . . how could I see him every night?”
We reach the door to my building and I stop just in front of it. He is standing against the railing with his arms folded, nostrils flaring like a bull ready to attack. Apparently, I’m holding the red flag. Surprise, surprise. Mr. Irrational is acting like a petulant child.
“Would you keep your panties on? Nothing, and I mean nothing, is set in stone. I’m keeping all my options open. I would have consulted with you first. I realize it’s not just my decision.”
His trademark move of running his hands through his hair begins. “Bullshit. You don’t care what I think. I’m going home.”
He doesn’t say another word, turning his back on me and walking out of sight.
Am I in the wrong here? I told him I was looking at all of my options. Of course, I can’t just up and go, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense to move. With the money I have from the sale of the apartment, I would have a healthy down payment on a house in California. Masen would have a backyard and warm weather almost year-round. I can afford to work part-time, and most importantly, Gemma and Melissa would be close by. Charlie and I have been emailing back and forth about California. She is extremely helpful, giving me tips on the best schools and places to take Masen.
Well, it’s a thought.
Just that.
And the Jerk, for now, has nothing to worry about.
By now, I’m used to his little temper tantrums. I move on and push the stroller into the building, quickly making my way to the elevator. Upon arriving at my floor, I take out my keys and notice a man standing beside my door. He looks familiar, but I’m on guard just in case. I wrap my hand around the mace in my purse. He tilts his head sideways and I catch a glimpse of his jawline.
I would recognize that jawline anywhere . . .
“Jason?” I ask, in awe.
“Presley . . . Wow . . .”
He moves his focus to the stroller and appears to be in shock. “I was told you had a baby and thought it was a joke, but I had to see for myself. You have a baby.”
“Yes . . . I know I should have told you, but it’s complicated.”
We both stand there at a loss for words. Jason, seeing me with a baby. And myself, having forgotten how handsome he is. He reaches his arms out and I move forward and give him a hug. My body instantly relaxes in his embrace, but I don’t want to complicate things. I pull away, unable to control my happiness at seeing him again.
“Jase . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”
His smile remains fixed as he ruffles his hair before asking, “Is it mine?”
I laugh softly. “No, it isn’t. Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Indeed. Are you free now for dinner or something?”
I look at my cell and notice the time. Masen needs to be changed and fed so I can tuck him in for the night, despite how much I want to have dinner with Jason.
“I really need to get Masen down. How about next weekend? I can ask my roommate to babysit.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll text you during the week?”
“Sure.”
He begins to walk away but stops, leaning into my ear. “I honestly forgot how beautiful you are, Presley.”
My body reacts instantly. I melt at his words, missing the familiarity.
I close my eyes for a brief moment as he walks away, his lingering scent invading my senses.
I miss him, and now all I can think about is Friday night.
My dinner date with my ex-fiancé. The once love of my life. Jason Hart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I toss and turn all night, thinking about Jason and questioning whether or not I made the right decision. Well, truth be told, if I hadn’t parted ways with him then, I wouldn’t have had my son. But now, after seeing Jason turn up at my doorstep, I wonder if it’s too late for us. Being in the company of Jason Hart was easy, carefree, and relaxing. He’s not the type of person to create unnecessary drama, unlike some other jerk I know.
Haden, as predicted, hasn’t texted or called me after storming off in a huff. This game of his is getting old and his short temper only causes more friction between us. Yet, when we get along, I really enjoy being around him. Is there such a thing as male PMS? I swear, Haden Cooper could be the frontrunner for a nationwide campaign for it.
My mind refuses to shut down and just when I begin to fall asleep, Masen wakes up, demanding to be fed. Half asleep, I nestle him into a feeding position and try to keep my eyes open. For some unknown reason, he refuses to latch on, squirming uncomfortably and crying. Following the normal routine, I check his diaper, attempt to burp him, then try again to feed him. He still refuses to latch on, and an hour later, I am out of my mind.
“What do you want, Masen?” I cry, rocking him back and forth.
Nothing appears to work and I’ve already deemed myself a horrible mother. I grab my cell and dial the Jerk’s number, not expecting him to pick up after our argument earlier tonight. After several rings, he answers. The background is loud, and no surprise, he’s probably at a club getting wasted.
“Malone, are you okay?” he yells over the noise.
“No, I’m not. Masen won’t settle and I don’t know what to do.” I hold back my tears and, of course, Masen continues to wail over me.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
That twenty minutes feels like forever, and the second my door buzzes, I scramble to answer it. Haden enters immediately, throwing his helmet, keys, and cell onto the sofa and grabbing Masen from me. He’s dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a dark grey shirt rolled up at the sleeves; it’s different from his normally casual attire of jeans and a tee on the weekends. He looks good . . . real good. But hey, what do I know? I’m sleep deprived and sex deprived, and neither one of those problems would be solved anytime soon.
He moves towards my bedroom and I follow behind him. It only takes a couple of minutes of Haden rubbing his back in a circular motion for Masen to finally settle. When ten minutes passes without a single sound, my emotions and tired state get the better of me and I begin to cry.
“I can’t do this . . . alone.”
“You’re not alone. It’s just one bad night,” he reassures me.
He moves to sit down on the bed, keeping Masen comfortable and quiet while I continue to stand there like a sobbing mess. I’m a wreck, dressed in my old baseball tee and boxers with my hair a wild mess. Heavy bags have formed under my eyes and my skin appears dry and pale.
“This is hard. Look at me . . . I haven’t slept. My hair hasn’t had a proper shampoo in forever.
I’ve been wearing the same shirt for like the past two weeks because I can’t get to the Laundromat. I have no clue what I’m doing!”
“Presley . . . just calm down. It’s not that bad. Why don’t I get my mom here to come help you for a few hours? She’s dying to spend time with Masen.”
“Not that bad?” I raise my voice slightly. “I’m a mess . . . and . . . I feel like the worst mother in the world. I bet Eloise won’t look like that when you guys have babies. She’ll probably just push that baby out and—”
“Presley . . .”
I continue to ramble on, ignoring him. “And I bet she has that type of hair that is silky and smooth all the time like those shampoo commercials where the chick just flicks her hair and she looks like she just stepped out of the salon.”
“Malone,” he raises his tone.
“What?” I say, exasperated from my rant.
He doesn’t say anything further but nods his head, motioning for me to look at my chest. I look down and through my shirt that my milk has leaked and left two patches. Just fucking great . . . and here come the waterworks.
“See? I can’t even feed my child and then this happens,” I cry.
He lays Masen down beside the pillow and covers him with a blanket. Haden moves towards me, and in my pathetic state, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer into him. I don’t care what’s happening right now and continue to cry into his chest. Holding me tight, he gives me time to release my frustrations until my sobs slow down.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead and slowly pushes me away, still keeping our bodies in close range. Cupping my face, he gives me a sympathetic smile before speaking quietly so as not to stir Masen. “You’ve got to learn to ask for help. I’m here, Presley . . . I’ll always be here when you need me. Just don’t drop bullshit bombs on me like earlier.”
“You’ve got a life, Haden. You can’t stop living it. Like tonight, where were you?”
“It was a stupid party for Eloise’s friend. Trust me, I didn’t want to go.”