"What are you laughing about?" Matthew rolled over, pressed his face to my belly.
I drove my fingers through his hair. A touch of silver shined in the morning sun. Also new. "Andy's coming over. We're taking the autumn photos I told you about." He murmured something indecipherable into my skin and wrapped his arms around my waist with a throaty growl. God, those growls. "Didn't catch that, babe."
He lifted his head, saying, "It's too early for photos."
I looked to the bank of windows bathing our bedroom in warm light. We'd moved into this suburban home a little less than four months ago but there were days when I expected to wake up in our old loft and see the waters of Boston Harbor right outside.
"Don't worry," I said, kneading the back of his neck. "We won't dress you up or pose you in a pile of leaves."
"Thank god," he murmured. He leaned into my touch, squeezed me tight. "Feels good." He pushed my t-shirt up with his chin and pressed a kiss above my belly button. Silvery-purple stripes reminded me a baby grew strong and healthy under that skin. Also new.
"What time Madeleine get to sleep?" I asked.
Matt took the late shift last night. We traded off. It was better when everyone operated with an insufficient amount of rest. We couldn't have one of us cheery and chipper while the other went full zombie. Also, we could swing this setup. Matt was in the office on a reduced schedule and I wasn't due back at school for another week. This routine worked while we inched Maddie toward a consistent schedule and us back to our previous lives. If such a thing was possible.
I had my doubts.
"Around two," he replied, his scruffy cheek raking over my skin. "She fought it. Hard. Kept dozing off then waking herself up. Stubborn little girl." He laughed, kissed my belly again. "Wonder where she gets that."
"It's a mystery," I mused.
"If that's what you want to call it."
I ran my nails over his scalp. He growled against my skin, a low, rumbly sound I hadn't heard enough of recently. Even with my parents helping out since Maddie's arrival and bunking in our guest room, we didn't get nearly enough alone time. What little time we had was dedicated to catching up on sleep. Our bundle of joy brought us a great many gifts and blessings but she hated sleeping at night.
She had to be coaxed to sleep, trapped in it. She never went willingly and if she sensed that we meant for her to sleep, she revolted. Demanded a change, a feeding, a burp, a cuddle. Anything but a nighttime of shut eye.
Matthew pushed up on an elbow, craning his neck to see into the bassinet at the foot of the bed. Finding it empty, he returned to his spot on my belly, asking, "Did she run out for coffee? I hope she remembers how I take it."
"My mom took her for a walk," I said, running my fingertips over his shoulders, down his spine. "She usually takes the long way around on the weekends."
It was my indirect way of saying please fuck me straight through the mattress before I die of sexual starvation.
After six years with this man, I knew how to ask for the things I wanted. To be fair, I'd known how to ask since the very first night but that was a different story. I knew and I'd never held back before. But our lives were different now.
Everything, it was upside down.
New house, new baby, new roles. We weren't the same Matthew and Lauren anymore. We were husband and wife, mom and dad. The roles we'd known for the past six years were transforming and nothing we did during my pregnancy truly prepared us for this.
For the time and patience necessary to recover from childbirth.
For the losing battle of breastfeeding.
For sleep schedules and growth spurts and the endless piles of laundry. So much laundry.
For the seismic shift in the ways we met each other's needs.
This was a new era for our relationship and I wasn't the only one stumbling through it.
I didn't know how to ask for the things I needed right now and Matthew didn't know how to touch me anymore. He treated me like the most fragile glass in the world, a Fabergé egg of a wife. He hesitated when I reached for him. He stayed on his side of the bed unless I dragged him over to mine. He restricted his kisses to my tummy and kept his growls from turning into filthy demands.
Despite the sting of this shift, we loved each other more than I thought possible. It was more intense than ever but it was also more distant. We gazed at each other from across the room in awe, as if to say, Look what we made. Look what we have. Look what we are.
We had a good thing going here. We had a healthy, mostly happy baby and a roof over our heads and enough family to keep us fed and supported through the toughest of times. It would be great if we could teach each other what we needed and how to give it. How to find ourselves again.
"Have I told Judy how much I appreciate her taking the dawn shift? Because I do," he replied. "I'm going to miss that when your parents leave at the end of the month."
Not capitalizing on the empty house, are you?
Sigh.
"I believe you've mentioned it," I said. "I'm sure Ellie will be great in the mornings too. She's not my mom but I'm really excited she's going to spend the band's hiatus year with us."
"And Tiel," he added, still speaking to my belly.
If only he'd scoot a little lower.
"And Tiel," I agreed. "She's going to love having her best friend in town again." I brought my hands to his shoulders, pressing deep into his muscles. Massaging but also directing him toward an area of common interest. "My dad went with my mom and Maddie. On the walk. We have the place to ourselves."
"That's why it's so quiet." Matthew pushed up on one arm, staring at me with drowsy eyes. "Do you want to shower first? Or should I get in there?"
I slapped my hands against the sheets. The man I married never would've asked that. He would've tossed me over his shoulder and marched into the bathroom because we were showering together. My husband, ever the water conservationist. "No. I need—I mean, no," I replied. There was no hiding the irritation in my voice. "No. That's not what I'm saying. Why aren't you—what do I have to do?"
Matthew blinked at me, stifled a yawn. "What's wrong, sweetness?"
You're suddenly immune to my charms and I'm going crazy without you.
I didn't say that. I wanted to but—but what if it was different for him too? What if he still loved me but after seeing six different people stick their hands in my vagina, he wasn't especially excited about visiting there himself? Maybe his attraction was waning after watching lactation consultants tugging at my nipples like competing dairymaids. If any part of that was true, I wasn't ready to hear it.
I gathered my hair in my hands, twisted it into a messy bun. "I don't know. Nothing."
He shifted closer. "No," he said, drawing the word out. "Tell me." I reached for my hair again but he caught my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. "Tell me."
I started to ask for all the things I needed, the things I wanted to feel with him again. But I stopped myself. This conversation wasn't a quick one and we had to talk before we got back in the saddle. We didn't have time to do both. This morning was not our own but the evening offered a range of possibilities.
"I want to go out tonight, just the two of us," I said. "And I don't mean out for coffee or salads like usual. I'm talking about an actual restaurant where we sit down and then place our order."
Our current rendition of date night involved a midday trip to Starbucks or Sweetgreen while Maddie napped. It was a tiny tragedy but it had been all we could manage at first. I didn't like leaving the baby for long and until now, I hadn't felt capable of putting myself together for the evenings-out scene. I was good with athleisure wear and forgiving summer dresses but anything beyond those pushed my limits. And my energy.
But that ended here. I was putting on real, non-maternity clothes. A nice pair of panties and a bra too, and not one of those breakaway nursing getups. I was washing and blow-drying my hair. A full face of makeup. I wasn't stopping at tinted moisturizer and lip balm
. No, I was going all the way to contoured cheeks and shaped eyebrows.
And I was seducing my husband tonight if it was the last thing I did.
I tipped my chin up, fortifying myself in this course of action. "I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind watching the baby."
"Okay," he replied. "And then you'll tell me what's bothering you?"
I reached for him, urging him closer—closer closer get on me closer—until he kneeled between my legs and braced himself over me. I knew he wasn't going to give me his weight, not even if I asked. He had it in his head that I was going to shatter and nothing I did changed his mind.
"I miss you," I confessed, gazing up at him. His brows knit together. A frown tugged his lips down. "I miss you and I want to spend some time with you. That's all."
"I miss you too." He leaned down, dropped a kiss on my forehead. Everything inside me clenched at the pure sweet of that one kiss. Clenched again, this time over the complete lack of dick in my life. "You talk to your parents. I'll make reservations." He traced a line from my brows down my nose. "Do you want to see a movie or do anything in addition to dinner?"
I shook my head. If it meant getting time together, we could sit in the car in an empty parking lot. "If we're watching a movie, I'd rather do it in bed with you."
Where I can get my hand down your pants without breaking any public decency laws.
"Okay. I have to meet Patrick to walk through some properties but I'll make the plans." He sealed the promise with another forehead kiss. "I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."
"Isn't missing you enough?" I asked.
"Yeah but," he replied, his voice trailing off. "I'm right here. Like always."
I nodded but couldn't gather the right words to explain my struggle to find my way in this new version of us.
"Are you worried about going back to school?" he asked. "It's all right if you need more time. Don't rush it. Like I've said a hundred times, you don't have to go back until you're ready. I don't want you pushing yourself."
Of all the complicated questions, he had to ask that one. I was scheduled to return to school in one week, starting off with mornings and then transitioning to full days. This was the first time in more than a decade where I'd missed the first day, the first month, and most of the first quarter of school.
And I couldn't find an ounce of regret.
I'd planned for my maternity leave. Of course I had. If there was one thing I did to an obnoxious degree, it was planning. But I'd struggled to imagine myself away from school. In the months leading up to Maddie's birth, I wasn't certain I'd actually stay away. Through it all, I assumed I'd return early. Three months seemed like an eternity and I knew my parents were coming to help and Matthew was taking time off and my sisters-in-law were always there for me and—and I'd just go back to work when school started in September. There was no need to wait until mid-October.
Then Maddie arrived and nothing seemed more important than her. I loved this little girl like I couldn't believe. I wanted to snuggle her all day, every day. I hated the idea of leaving her and there were moments when I couldn't imagine doing it. But there were also moments when I couldn't imagine staying at home another day. I wanted to witness every minute in my daughter's new life but I also wanted my work.
More than anything, I didn't want to feel guilty. I wanted to feel good about my choices without focusing on the sacrifices inherent in them.
"Lauren," Matthew murmured, nudging my inner thigh with his knee. There was a time when that nudge would've served as the first and final warning before he slammed inside me. I knew without a doubt this nudge wasn't that kind of warning. "What's going on in there, sweetness?"
Smiling, I shook my head. God, this man was too good. Too patient. Even after all these years and all this post-partum sexual deprivation, I wondered what I did to deserve him. "No, I'm not worried about going back to school." Thinking better of it, I added, "Not much."
He studied me, his eyes narrowed. "Have I told you how much I love it when you keep things from me until the exact moment you're ready to share them and I've lost the last shreds of my sanity worrying over you?" He nudged my thigh again. Oh my god, fuck me already. "Because I do, I fucking love it."
I ran my hands up and over his flanks to his shoulders. How did every part of him get harder while I softened? "That works well," I replied, "because I happen to enjoy it when you're crazy. Do you remember when you were crazy enough to show up at my apartment with my underwear in hand?"
"Do I remember," he murmured, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "That move was epic. You should've seen me, wandering through Beacon Hill while looking for your apartment, your damn underwear burning a hole in my pocket. I felt like a bona fide pervert, as if someone was going to stop me at any moment and ask if I had women's underwear on me. But I was completely convinced it was the right thing to do."
"Sounds confusing," I said, laughing.
"You don't know the half of it." He looked away, his unfocused gaze falling on the door to the master bathroom. It stood ajar, yesterday's towels and a questionably clean—and totally boring—bra suspended from the interior hooks. "That morning when I woke up—and you weren't there—I didn't know what to do with myself. I walked around the loft thinking I'd met the most amazing woman in the whole damn world, the one who was going to turn my life upside down, and she'd slipped through my fingers." He blinked, turning back to me. "Don't leave me again. Okay? Whatever it is that's bothering you, give it to me. Let me fix it for you. Because I need you, sweetness. I need you, Maddie needs you, my entire family needs you. You're our glue. We'll fall apart without our glue."
I nodded, forced a smile through a surge of unbidden tears. Goddamn these hormones. They didn't quit, not even when the baby was good and born. "I'm not going anywhere," I said. "Don't worry about anything."
Matthew reached down, brushed the tears from my cheeks. "It's what I do, Lauren. Let me do it."
"There are a lot of things you do," I replied. "Worrying is only one of them." I ran my knuckles down the center line of his chest. Couldn't get more obvious if I hung a sign over my head. "Since I have you here, I could use a refresher on some of your other skills, Mr. Walsh."
He pointed up, toward the ceiling. "I ripped this house apart and rebuilt it for you. Gave you plenty of bookshelves too. Between that and the industrial-grade worrying, you've got the best of me."
He was working at ignoring my advances. He was trying. "There's more to you than stress and houses."
I was this close to whipping off my t-shirt and asking him to take me hard and fast and remind me what it felt like when we lost ourselves in each other. This close.
But the front door banged open downstairs and with it came a chorus of my parents, Andy, and our baby daughter, screaming her little blonde head off.
Matthew sighed, pressed his face between my breasts with a growl, and murmured, "I'll take this one. You hit the shower."
"Tonight we're—"
"I know, Lauren," he snapped as he climbed off me. "I'll handle it."
2
Matthew
I tapped the stone foundation with a flathead screwdriver, looking for signs of deterioration before moving to another section. "I'm not the only one who can assess a foundation. You are also capable of doing this work," I called over my shoulder to Patrick. "Nothing especially technical here."
"But I like your sunny disposition," he replied, his attention focused on the gas and water lines running through the basement's rafters. "And you're managing this project now."
I groaned, scowling at him. "Dammit, why?"
Patrick circled his mechanical pencil at the empty space. "This is a great property. It's a gift. I'm certain you can see that, even in your current state of extreme sleep deprivation."
"It's getting better."
It sounded like a whine. It was a whine. I was whining about being tired and I was tired because my kid didn't sleep at night. I was whining over my precious little girl and her
difficulty in making sense of the outside world and that made me an asshole. An asshole who didn't notice his wife struggling until she was crying into her pillows. An asshole who watched her cry but couldn't think of anything beyond owning her luscious body. The kind of asshole who seriously considered fucking his wife until she talked about her problems. And then fucking her some more to solve them. An asshole who yelled at his wife over making date night plans because he throbbed for her like a bad habit. Such a goddamn asshole.
"It's better," I added. "It's improved in the past few weeks. I think we're on the upswing."
I sounded more confident than I felt. A sliver of me believed I'd be walking the halls with Madeleine on my shoulder until she was nine. Maybe longer. That sliver wanted to rage against the injustice of newborn sleep schedules.
The rest of me wanted nothing more than my wife all to myself. I couldn't look at her without a wall of emotion coming down on top of me. Love wasn't even the word for it anymore. God, no. I was a hundred miles past love. What I had for this woman lived in my bones and blood. I'd sooner bleed myself dry than fall out of love with her. I wanted to get lost in her, surrender to her, consume her from the inside out.
But I was losing my mind without her. That was how it felt—like we were separated. Between her parents, visitors, and Madeleine, someone was always stealing my wife away from me. Yeah, I lumped the baby in with that lot. She was the sweetest thing in the entire world and my heart still caught in my throat when she reached for me but I envied the attention she demanded from Lauren. I adored our little girl. I treasured the place she'd claimed in our life. I had no regrets. But I wanted my wife back.
"Is that, uh, is that normal?" he asked. "Shannon's kids never had trouble sleeping."
"Of course not," I replied. "They're Shannon's kids."
The Walsh Brothers Page 86