“Can we dress up?” Stella asks as I take a seat on the edge of her bed.
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
They run over to their closet and find their yellow dresses. Their favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast, so it’s no surprise that they each have a dress like the one in the movie. I’m sure the next question will be if we can watch it tonight. My answer will be yes because I rarely say no to them. I help them change into the dresses and then we have pretend tea. For about fifteen minutes, there’s easygoing conversation.
“Daddy?” Stephanie looks nervous as she gathers my attention.
“Yeah?”
“Is Momma mad at us?” I don’t know what caused the change, but Sylvia went from Mommy to Momma over the summer.
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“She yelled at us,” Stella answers.
Sylvia yelled at them? That’s unusual, too. She can be stern and discipline them, of course, but she swears there’s a fine line between raising your voice to get their attention and yelling at them. “What happened?” I ask.
Stella shrugs, which either means she was the instigator or she honestly doesn’t know. Stephanie puts down her teacup, folds her hands to sit in her lap, and says, “We were just singing, Daddy.”
“Really loud,” Stella adds.
“She told us to stop, but Stella didn’t want to.”
Stella frowns as her sister rats her out. “Momma was mean.” Stephanie nods in agreement.
There are many times as a parent where I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or what I’m supposed to say and this is one of those moments. “How about we do better to listen to Momma next time, and let’s remember that she still loves you.”
“Dinner!” Sylvia shouts from the kitchen.
“Let’s eat, girls.”
“Can we sleep over at Aunt Lizzy’s this weekend?” Stella asks.
“Ah, I don’t think so. She’s busy, but I’ll be sure to find out when y’all can go over, okay?”
She nods with satisfaction. When we get into the dining room, I frown when I see there are only three plates full of food set at the table. Sylvia is sitting down, but there’s no plate in front of her. However, there is a paper towel with some saltine crackers laid out on top.
“Where’s your food?” I ask as I pull a chair out for Stella and then Stephanie.
“I’m not feeling well, so I’m not eating.” As I sit down myself, she must see my distaste with her answer and my mouth opening to object because she adds, “I’ll eat later if I’m up for it. I did grab something,” she holds up a cracker, “just for you, so save it, Scott.”
I let it go for now because I know how to pick my battles and she’s right. At least she’s nibbling on something rather than not eating anything at all. Before a single piece of silverware is lifted, we thank Sylvia for fixing our dinner. Before we got the kids, I thanked her in the same manner. I never want Sylvia to think I don’t appreciate her or what she does for me and my girls. I want to show it and I want to say it. The girls started out saying it as a way of copying me, but they eventually caught on and they say it now, even if I’m not here. It’s worth doing, too. Makes my wife smile every damn time.
Sylvia reaches over to the seat next to her and grabs a box. I don’t know why it makes me suspicious, but it does.
“What’d you do, Sylvia?”
She flashes me a quick glare. “I took a little initiative.” Oh, boy. She opens the small, rectangular box. It looks like it’s holding business cards. She plucks one out and hands it to me. “I did them myself.”
“These look good.” They are professional, but fun. Before Sylvia quit her job, she worked with a company in the marketing department, but she also dabbled in graphic design. “Lizzy ask you to do these? I didn’t know she came up with a name. Or that she had social media pages.”
Sylvia purposely looks away from me. “Well...”
“Sylvie,” I sigh.
“I warned you that I took a little initiative. The name is one that she tossed around, so I don’t think she’ll be mad about that. But she’s so busy making the cakes, she needs someone to do this part of it, or at least set it up. I did it for her.” She grins. “It was really fun.”
Maybe that’s what’s been missing. Maybe she’s restless now that the girls are in school? I think it’d be difficult for her to find a job after not working for six years, though. She’s had absolutely no work experience in that time span and she quit her last job with no notice because she was so concerned about Lizzy.
“You didn’t show these to her when she stopped by?” I ask. I’ll bring up the rest of my thoughts later when the girls aren’t around.
“They came after. Do you really think they look good?”
“Yeah, they’re perfect. I’m sure she’ll like them.” Her smile turns into a beam, which quickly disappears when I waft my fork her way. “Not even a bite?”
She jumps up from the table and rushes to the bathroom.
“Is Momma okay?” Stephanie asks.
“I think she’s sick. Y’all keep eating.” I stand to go check on her. She’s in one of our half-baths, hacking up her stomach. “Fuck, Sylvie.” I rub her back, knowing better than to do more than that.
“This is your fault,” she mumbles. “Trying to get me to eat. I already said I didn’t feel well and you had to tempt fate.”
“Sorry.” Another round comes, but there’s nothing left in her stomach, so she’s dry heaving. Once she seems to be done, I direct her out of the bathroom and straight to our room. “Why don’t you lie down for a while? I’ll bring you a glass of water and you can rest for a bit.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
The fact that she gave into what was basically a demand proves just how bad she feels. She’s pale, too. I get her into a pair of pajamas and into bed with a glass of water on the nightstand and a small trash can next to the bed—all without any complaints or grumbling under her breath. Then, I rejoin my girls for dinner. I don’t feel great about having Sylvia sick on top of her anxiety about the upcoming season. At least I work well under pressure.
On and off for the past few weeks, I haven’t felt well. Mostly nausea. I attributed it to me feeling off in general, but I guess it’s finally catching up to me and I’m full-blown sick now. Yay me. I fell asleep after Scott left me and when I wake up, he’s climbing into bed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Feel any better?”
“A little, I guess.”
“Up for some talking?” he asks as he pulls me into his arms.
“Try me.” I’ll just tell him to shut up if it turns out I’m not.
“Did you yell at the girls today?”
Guilt overwhelms me. “Yeah, I snapped at them. I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t feeling all that great and I had a headache, and next thing I know, I’m yelling at them.” I was so ashamed of myself, I never said I was sorry. “What’s wrong with me, Scott?”
“Nothing. Just an off week.”
I scoff at that. It’s been more than a week.
“Do you think it’s maybe because you miss working?”
“I don’t know. It was fun doing those things for Lizzy. I was thinking about maybe asking her if she wanted me to help her. What do you think?”
When he laughs, I feel unsure of myself for a moment. But then, he says, “That sounds like you’re asking me for permission.” The nightlight in our room, which is there in case the girls wander in, is bright enough that I can see the amusement in his eyes. “You really are sick, aren’t you?”
I slap his shoulder. “Don’t fool yourself. I’m only asking because that’s what wives are supposed to do. Ask their husbands for their opinions about potentially big decisions.”
“You didn’t ask me when you wanted to buy the SUV. You came home and said, ‘Scott, we need to buy me an SUV. Let’s go.’”
Okay, so, he’s got me there. I was so sick of my car. We were carrying around too much
crap thanks to having kids and I needed more room. One day, I was so fed up, I did just what he said. “Answer my question. I’m tired and I want to go back to sleep.”
“If that’s what you want to do, do it. I don’t know if you and Lizzy will be able to work together, but it’s worth a shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“You went three months without talking to her because of something that was completely up to her.”
“Oh, that’s totally different. We can easily work together.”
He shrugs and leans in to kiss me softly. “Get some sleep. I’ll take care of the girls this week until we’re sure you’re feeling better.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Unfortunately, I can’t fall asleep for the nausea. All I do is stare at the ceiling because lying on my back is the least-nauseous position. Scott sleeps peacefully. That’s good, I know, but it irks me for the simple fact that I want to be sleeping too. I’m exhausted. I’m pretty sure my bones are weary and my blood moves sluggishly through my body. Damn, I’ve never felt like this.
My mind wanders. I can’t wait to buy baby clothes once Lizzy finds out what she’s having. Too bad I eventually got rid of all the baby things from Stella and Stephanie. She could’ve had some of those items. It seems like it’s baby central around here with the Rebels. EJ has a baby girl, Ian and his wife, Sydney, will be welcoming a baby boy here soon, and now Lizzy’s pregnant.
I used to dream about having a big family. All I ever wanted was to be a mom. And then, all I wanted was to have one kid. I prayed over and over and over. Let me get pregnant, just once. Give me just one kid. That wasn’t ever happening. Not in the traditional route, at least. Since we adopted the girls, we haven’t talked about possibly expanding the family further by adopting another child. Things have felt perfect and fulfilling with our family of four.
Not to mention that for the longest time, I didn’t want to jinx the blessing we’d been given by asking for more. I still don’t. Bad things happen when you get greedy. Bad things happen when you take for granted something you thought would be possible that apparently isn’t possible in the slightest. It’s why I thank my lucky stars every single day for the life I have and the people who are in it.
“Momma?”
I sit up at the sound of Stella’s voice. “What is it?”
“I threw up.”
As she steps closer, there’s vomit all over her pajamas. Oh great. We’re both sick. I get out of bed to get her changed into a new pair of pajamas and find her sheets covered in puke. Once I get her changed, I put her in bed with Scott and clean her bed, hoping it doesn’t trigger me to puke myself.
“Momma?” Stephanie wakes up and looks a little greenish.
“Run to the bathroom, sweetie.”
I’m on her heels. At least she makes it to the toilet and I don’t have to clean anything up. I’m getting more and more tired. We finally make it to my bed. Stella is curled against Scott, who is none the wiser that our bed is about to be more crammed. Stephanie lies next to her sister and then I lie next to her. I knew investing in a big bed would be worth it. A quick glance at the clock shows it’s around four in the morning. Let’s just hope Scott doesn’t catch whatever we have. That’s the last thought I have as I finally drift to sleep.
With me way across the bed from Scott, all I get in the morning is a hand squeezing mine as he pulls my arm across the girls toward him so he can kiss the inside of my wrist. He has to have some sort of contact in the morning and with the girls between us, that’s the best he can do. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Now, why are there two little girls in my bed?”
“They woke up puking. We’re sick.”
He frowns. “My girls are sick?”
“You should probably get away while you can.”
“If I get sick, I get sick.” That’s always his response when the girls are sick. Damn, we really are predictable. “I’m going to run and stock up on soup, ginger ale, and crackers. Text me if you think of anything else we need.” He gets out of bed and makes quick work of getting ready so he can leave.
The girls wake up while he’s gone, moaning about a tummy ache. Looks like a lazy day in bed trying to keep our stomachs happy. I’m the only one who has to make use of the trashcan by the bed, though. The nausea comes on so sudden, it is all I can do to pick it up in time. The sooner we’re healthy, the better.
Fortunately for the girls, they recover within two days. Me? No such luck. Even worse, Scott’s first preseason game is looming closer and closer, and my anxiety is higher than ever. I’m not thinking about that or the fact that despite being sick as a dog and barely holding anything down, I’ve gained some weight. I don’t know how much because I’m scared to look, but my bra is too tight and my favorite pair of jeans barely buttoned today. They felt so tight, I decided it was a leggings kind of day. Unfortunately, I went out and bought new bras because I’m not dealing with that. I guess it’s time I start exercising again.
As if things couldn’t get any worse.
But again, I’m not thinking about any of that. Right now, I’m going to convince Lizzy to let me work with her.
“You look exhausted,” I comment as we take a seat at the table in Bagels and Butts.
“Morning sickness is the worst. Between that and doing cakes this past weekend, I am exhausted. I have even more to do this weekend. But none of that is a complaint. Marc ordered me to take it easy this week. He’s pushing me to quit with the bank now more than ever.”
“Are you going to?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I’m scared, to be honest. I don’t feel ready for any of this. I was just making a few cakes here and there and then it exploded. I’m having to say no because I’m limited to one to two nights a week and the weekend and those are already booked with clients until the end of October. I don’t understand how this happened.”
I lay my hand over hers, hoping to soothe her. “The how doesn’t matter. It’s what we’re going to do about it. Hear me out before you decide to get mad.”
“Oh, no. What did you do, Sylvia?” Her shoulders sag in defeat already. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d likely be mad instead.
I find the business card in my purse and slide it across the table. Her eyes widen.
“This is gorgeous, but I don’t understand.”
“I want to help you with the business side of things. I know about marketing and I can do some things with graphic design. I also have some business knowledge. What I don’t know, we can learn. I don’t even have to be in this long-term, if you don’t want me to be, but I’d love to help get you started.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“Yeah. I can even help with the cakes. I mean, obviously, I can’t decorate, but if you need a helping hand with baking the cakes, I can do that. Just give me your top secret recipes.” I waggle my eyebrows, causing her to laugh. This is probably the only way I can get my hands on her recipes, too. That’s definitely a bonus.
“I don’t have a way to pay you. At least, I don’t think so. I’d have to double check the numbers.”
I shrug. “I just want to help. That’ll be okay for now.”
“Okay. Tell me your ideas. I know you have them.” She sags further in her chair when I pull out the business plan I’ve been working on when I haven’t been puking. “I’m tired just looking at that thing.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to read it.” I tell her about everything I’ve been thinking about when it comes to what will be her business venture. She has the talent, the support, the drive and the name. She needs to pull it all together and get things going. I have big plans for my sister-in-law. I want her to succeed and live her dreams just as much as Scott and Marc do. If I can help her do that? You bet your ass I’m going to help.
After lunch, I have to do some grocery shopping, pick up a few things for the girls, pick them up from school, ta
ke Stella to the rink so she can get her fill of ice time, and then we’re back to the house where I’m cooking dinner while the girls do a worksheet for homework. Stella amazes me with her love of the ice and her dedication to learning how to skate and learning the skills necessary for playing hockey. She keeps this up, and she’ll be competing in college, easy. Maybe she could go even further and play in the Olympics.
The girls want to paint our toenails. I want to sleep, but I can totally let them paint my nails and supervise while they do each other’s. It’s always fun to watch them do this. They pick the same color for each other every single time and then argue over who gets to do it first until I tell them to take turns. When it comes to me, however, I get a different color for each foot and each hand.
The moment they go to bed is the moment I take a deep breath and fall into my own bed, not even bothering getting under the covers. Scott is out on some non-official team bonding crap; basically, their captain, Brayden Hayes, thought they could use some more time to hang out together. They’re probably out bowling or something. I’m sure Scott told me what they were doing, but for the life of me, I can’t remember. I just want to sleep anyway.
With a groan, I force my eyes to open. My shirt is being pushed up and a mouth is openly kissing its way across my stomach, heading north. I brace myself for the nausea to hit, but it’s not there for the moment.
“I love you,” Scott murmurs against my skin. His mouth moves to my breast and this time, I groan for an entirely different reason.
Damn, that feels so good.
He pulls away, his hands grasping both of my breasts. Even that feels good. I shake my head at the craziness of it. Man, will he just fuck me already? Why is he obsessed with my breasts tonight? Not that it doesn’t feel good, but he’s driving me crazy.
“Have you gained some weight?”
That snaps me out of my sexual fever. “Excuse me?”
His eyes widen as he realizes what he just asked me. “I mean—”
“You never ask a woman that! Especially not when you’re trying to have sex with her!” I shove him. “Get the hell away from me.” Honestly, I’m embarrassed that he’s noticed. I thought it was only a little bit, but maybe not. I yank my shirt in place and crawl beneath the covers.
An Unexpected Life (Carolina Rebels Book 5) Page 3