"I'm going to hell. I should have just said thank you."
"You, my friend, are too angelic to go to hell."
Jenny and Heather enjoyed a margarita as they talked. Eventually, they got in with the twins and floated them around. The margarita made them forget to remove the swim diapers upon getting out of the pool and George's diaper exploded all over the patio. Henry was happy to splash enough water on it to send it into the garden bed. The boys got out of the pool long enough to have pizza and then got back in and Heather and Jenny each followed a twin around outside and then the first floor of the house. They were only ten months old but proficient walkers. They desperately wanted to be like the big kids and run. George was more of a runner than a walker and Emily took her time. She probably just sat back watching George shaking her head not knowing what he would do next.
They called it a night pretty early. Each mom was happy to go to bed by herself and turn on a chick flick of her choosing. Jenny said she intended to watch Eat, Pray Love for the thousandth time. She claimed it made her feel more Zen. Heather rented The Impossible and sobbed for one hour and fifty-three minutes. It made her think about Hank and losing him, and she could not imagine doing it again for a spouse or a child. The Impossible forced her to think about what it would be like to be separated from the one you loved or to not know what had happened to them.
Her body, almost three years later, still had an internal alarm clock that told her when it was 10:47, the exact time Hank died in her calculation. Almost every single day she found herself looking up at a digital clock at exactly that time. She missed 9:47 somehow and all the times in between. Heather wondered what Hank thought of her being married and having twins. She hoped he was happy and was in heaven without any sadness. She hoped heaven wasn't like watching closed circuit TV as she didn't want him to see everything she was doing with Peter or all the times she got mad at him for dying. Hank made appearances in Heather's dreams and nightmares. In her happier dreams, he was always doing the same thing. She could see him floating by wearing a maroon Virginia Tech visor, white Polo shirt and khakis. He never spoke. He just gave her a thumb's up. She always took that as a good sign, like he approved of her life. But sometimes she thought about it too much and wondered if it was her really seeking his approval that forced him into her dreams. Falling asleep tonight, after a sad movie and without Peter, was not an easy task but somehow Heather did it.
Heather heard the house alarm being turned off at 5:30 Sunday morning. She sat up in bed as Peter peeked in with Gracie in his arms. He motioned to her that he would be there in a minute. Her mind was racing. She couldn't figure out why they were back so early from their camping trip. Peter walked into their room, sat on the bed and took off his shoes.
"What's wrong? Why are you here?"
"Because that was fucking crazy." Peter ran his hands through his hair and sat back on the bed, ready to start his tale.
"So, we slept in cabins. Gracie and I went to sleep in the main cabin with Matt and several of the other dads. Neither one of us could sleep. Matt snores. So did the other three dads in the cabin. Gracie started to cry. She was so tired from our day outside. I did everything I could to get it to stop. I woke them each up. I gave Gracie my ear buds. It didn't help, and finally Matt told me the non-snoring cabin was next door. I wish somebody had told me that before we had settled in. Gracie and I grabbed our things, and I guided us over to the other cabin with my flashlight at 1 a.m. It was peaceful. There was only one guy and his daughter in there. We had our pick of beds and crept right in and fell asleep." Peter took a break and ran his hands through his hair again.
"So, why are you home?"
"Because, turns out he was sleeping alone because he is fucking nuts.”
“What do you mean? I know all those dads. Hank used to camp with them all the time.”
“I don’t think he met the new guy.”
“Aren’t you the new guy?”
“Not anymore. At 4:30, he woke up and went freaking postal. He sat straight up in bed and started screaming at the top of his lungs, "Get down. Everyone down. They're coming for us." Then he put his head down and went back to sleep. That was it. He scared the shit out of us and went back to sleep. Gracie started crying next to me in bed, and I decided we were coming home. I texted Matt so he wouldn't worry in the morning. That dude had serious night terrors."
Heather's heart started to melt. He had slept in the same bed as Gracie. Peter adored Heather's kids, but it was at unexpected moments like that when it hit her. She reached over and hugged him.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For taking care of my little girl."
"She's mine too. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Peter drifted off to sleep and Heather stayed awake. She watched Peter sleep for a while and then grabbed her iPad. She couldn't stop thinking about all she needed to accomplish before school ended. Before she knew it, George was up, so she got him out of his crib and took him downstairs in hopes of keeping everyone else asleep. She knew Emily would wake up shortly.
Heather started her list of things to get ready before they started their summer vacation. Surviving the last few weeks of school had to happen first. Each child had a picnic or end of the year event. Both boys were playing in baseball tournaments. Teacher gifts, room mom duties, final projects, final tests and all the normal household stuff loomed ahead of her. Peter insisted that they have a cleaning lady which made Heather feel guilty, but it was actually the daily straightening up after all of them and the laundry that was the hardest thing to do. She never really had to dust surfaces that were covered with school papers or littered with the boys’ protective cups anyway. She was too busy washing and matching baseball socks and onesies for the twins. Even though Heather's book was out and she was busy with all that other stuff, she had let herself get roped into being Henry's room mom and had volunteered for countless activities at school.
Peter had started nagging Heather to start her next book too. And nagging was the only word she had to describe what he was doing. Her first book was a memoir, and she had poured herself into it. Yes, she had ideas for a novel, but she couldn't imagine writing a novel with all they had going on. Peter argued that she needed to write to find her happiness and her center, and she kept thinking that maybe she would be able to this summer when she didn't have all the kid responsibilities. Which was kind of oxymoronic as the kids would be home with her all day instead of at school. She had to at least get through the next few weeks before she could think about it.
Peter walked down rubbing his eyes with one hand and carrying Emily in his other and kissed Heather good morning. She constantly shook her head to make sure she wasn't dreaming. His pajama pants hung low on his hips showing his tight abdomen. Without a shirt on, not much was left to the imagination. This guy exuded sex appeal and he wanted her, the mother of five children who felt like a hot mess 95% of the time. Lucky for Heather, he obviously had a thing for girls with smelly hair and formula stains all over their clothes.
As if on cue, George spit up all of the formula he was drinking while sitting in his high chair. Of course, Heather should have burped him, but the saving grace was that he wasn't even dressed yet. This time, for once, it wasn't projectile spit up. Henry had taken to using items as a George shield to protect himself from the ever-spitting-up child. It was fine as long as he looked at what he used first. Unfortunately, he had used Hayes' homework and Gracie's journal. Wiping spit up off of Algebra homework was not an easy task. The quadratic equation was complicated enough without being smeared across the paper.
Peter went over to clean it up, but Heather stopped him. "Get some coffee. You've had a tough enough night."
"Thank you. I think today will be a double Starbucks day for me. What's on the agenda?"
"Hayes has a game at two, and Henry has practice at 4. Thought we could grill and eat on the patio after that."
"Sounds perfect. I'll run to Starbucks as soon
as I finish this cup of coffee. "
Peter was a coffee addict, typically having 4-5 different types a day. Caffeine was his creative drug. For Heather, caffeine was a necessity and had very little to do with her creativity. He also ran to Starbucks every Sunday for a copy of The New York Times and morning buns for the kids. He was such a frequent customer, and incidentally famous, that his order was ready when he arrived. He never had to tell them what he wanted. Sad and awesome at the same time.
Heather did a quick Facebook check on her laptop while she stood at the kitchen counter.
From Tanya: Heard Peter couldn't hack it at Indian Princess and had to leave early. Are our men too much for him?
Heather did what she usually did, tried to ignore it but instead fretted over it for the next few minutes.
Chapter 7
After feeding five kids breakfast and lunch, making sure everyone was relatively clean and dressed in weather appropriate clothes, it was time to leave for baseball. Peter liked to walk around the field with the twins. He stuck them in the jogging stroller and paced around. It saved him from having to talk to the moms in the bleachers. It was finally warm after a cool spring, and Heather was happy to be wearing her summer clothes.
Baseball games were a familiar routine for the Meadows-Adamson clan. Gracie had her friend to run around with, and Henry played catch with anyone he could find. He was not afraid to ask any unassuming stranger to play catch. If the poor person said yes, he was his buddy for the entire game.
Peter had lulled the twins to sleep in the stroller and walked over to Heather.
"Cover me," she whispered to him. He raised his eyebrows and she proceeded to tell the hottest guy in the zip code, possibly the whole city, that her ass was sweating. She knew her thong hadn't absorbed it, so she was sitting in a puddle of sweat.
"Better get you some cotton granny panties next time we're at Target."
Heather was too worried about her sweat stain to be amused because she was certain Victoria would call attention to it as soon as she stood up. Peter stretched his arm out and slid behind Heather blocking her ass from view.
"The only one who gets to see your ass sweaty is me," said Peter. Heather turned around and laughed at him.
"Who do you think you are? Christian Grey?"
The majority of the women in the bleachers looked at Heather and Peter and sighed. They were jealous of the obvious sexual connection between them. Most of the parents didn't even acknowledge the other’s presence at the game let alone touch them and whisper things to them that made them laugh.
"I know exactly who I am and what I am going to make you do tonight."
"You can try whatever you want. I guarantee a kid will walk in right in the middle of it. It would be pretty funny if they found me tied up to the headboard."
Peter rolled his eyes. He knew she was right. Someone would walk in or scream for one of them. It was something Peter wasn't used to...being interrupted during sex. He had thought about installing motion detectors outside of their door so at least he would have a little notice before Gracie or Henry appeared next to the bed. Hayes was too scared that he would see something to ever make his way into their room. He announced his presence well in advance. Thankfully. It just meant they had to be creative and make good use of naptime while the big kids were at school.
Heather went to the bathroom and dried herself off under one of the hand dryers. Khaki shorts and sweat stains were not her best look. She walked slowly back to the bleachers and sat next to Victoria.
"What were you two all giggly about?" asked a nosy Victoria.
"Oh, nothing. Peter just reminded me of something."
"He must be pretty good in bed. I can tell by your body language with him."
Seriously? Victoria’s going to analyze my body language and sex life on the bleachers of the baseball game? thought Heather. She figured she might as well give her what she wanted.
"Hmmm. Yep, he's pretty good," said Heather not realizing that Peter was now standing right behind her.
"Pretty good? You're going to pay for that Mrs. Adamson," he said.
Heather blushed and was happy that Hayes came up to the plate and the conversation came to an end. There were 2 outs in the bottom of the sixth inning and the game was tied. Hayes struck out and the coach threw his hat on the ground at third base. Peter saw it all, went over to Hayes, and broke the cardinal rule of the team by speaking to Hayes in the dugout.
"No worries, pal. That ump has a really big strike zone. At least two of them were balls."
Hayes looked up and smiled at Peter. Heather smiled too. A minor triumph to have a smile from Hayes directed at Peter. She knew an email would be sent out this evening reminding the parents not to talk to the players. Peter didn't really care, and it was as if he was daring the coach to talk to him. She knew the coach was intimidated by the famous author Peter Adamson and wouldn't say anything to him. He took the passive aggressive way out and emailed instead.
Henry asked Peter to walk him over to practice on the other field. Heather gave him a quick kiss and sent him on his way, reminding him Tyler's mom would bring him home.
After the game, she ran into Fresh Market to pick up some food while Peter sat in the car with the kids. Taking the twins into a store was always a task. Heather and Peter carried iPads with them almost everywhere they went so they could check email, read or write while they sat in the car with the babies. They had learned many basic survival techniques the hard way.
When they got home, Peter grilled salmon steaks on the patio. Henry returned from practice, and the big kids got in the pool before dinner. Heather found herself daydreaming as she watched it all unfold outside the kitchen window. There was an excerpt from her book that she had read frequently at her readings about all of her cooking adventures with Hank.
When Hank died, the kids thought we were going to starve. He was the one who made the big meals. I was the short order cook. The mac-n-cheese, pb&j, rotisserie chicken type of cook. My big meal was breakfast for dinner. At first we had so many casseroles and dinners dropped off that we had no meal worries. After the casseroles stopped coming, Hayes asked what we were going to do for food. I reminded him that I could cook and I was going to learn to be a better cook right away. He cried and cried because for years he had been regaled with stories about my ineptitude in the kitchen. He knew about the time I got the giblets stuck in the neck of the chicken. And the time I flipped a flan and it ended up on the ceiling. And the time the carrot soup exploded out of the blender. And the time I made the cake with salt instead of sugar. And the time the chicken carcass almost burned the house down. And the time the Thanksgiving turkey sat for four hours in the oven and I forgot to turn it on. And the time I cooked the Easter Ham with the plastic wrap still on it. My cooking was an urban legend in the family. I didn't like to do it and usually messed it up. So we started watching the Food Network together. We watched shows like the Worst Cook in America. We became obsessed with some of them. We became obsessed with teaching me how to cook. And with that obsession we stopped thinking about why I needed to cook now. Instead we focused on the end result.
Peter was not much of a cook. He was great at grilling but had spent his adult years on his own and ordering take out. Feeding a family of seven came with a big learning curve for all of them. Peter had been a Costco and Sam's Club virgin. Now he was enrolled in the frequent buyer club.
Dinner was served on the patio with the twins sitting in their Bumbos in the middle of the table eating zwieback cookies and watermelon. On this Sunday night, life felt easy and pretty perfect to Heather.
Chapter 8
In order to have some quiet moments, Peter enjoyed getting out for a run before the kids got up. He wasn’t used to having people around him 24/7. He found himself being creative with ways to get a few minutes of alone time here and there. A month after they all moved in to their new house, he was using the bathroom and was actually lingering for an extra minute because he needed a l
ittle space. He never thought about locking the door and Henry burst right in. Heather instituted a knock before entering rule but that rarely helped. He learned that the best way to have some time alone, in any room, was to lock the door.
Part of him thought he might need to get an office space away from the house, but he wasn’t ready to suggest it to Heather. Running gave him some time to think about his writing without interruption. But today, Peter was still reeling from his Indian Princess campout and couldn't stop thinking about all of the things he had learned since he had moved into this suburban land with five children. Part of him thought that he needed to put all these little things he discovered into one of his books.
He had learned early on, on their first date even, that anything and everything you did would be reported on Facebook. Just a few weeks ago, Heather had come out of the bathroom with her skirt tucked into her underwear at Wild Ginger. Someone actually took a photo and posted it on her wall. It didn't help that she somehow managed to have a little trail of toilet paper hanging out as well. He was convinced some suburban moms were worse than the paparazzi he saw when he was in L.A. or NYC.
But, one of the craziest things that had happened, crazier than the guy at Indian princess, was when he ran into one of the moms in Gracie’s class at Target (one of the three Targets within fifteen minutes of their house) and she had asked him to come over that night to her lasagna party. She invited Heather as well, and he felt cornered and couldn't say no. He came home and told Heather. She got a horrified look on her face and asked him if he knew what a lasagna party was. He didn't of course and assumed it was just a regular old dinner party. She explained that a lasagna party or a spaghetti bake was another name for a swinger's party. Peter did not consider himself to be naïve, but he never knew that things like that happened in places like this. Heather made him call the mom and feign illness, which he did, happily.
The New Ever After (The New Ever After Series) Page 4