by Indra Vaughn
“Do you know what’s going to happen when you can go home?”
The tap ran, so I missed some of her reply. “. . . for six months. Then he’ll be with you for seventy-five percent of the time and twenty-five with me for another six months, and after that, fifty-fifty if that’s good with you. Have you two decided if you’ll be staying—”
“No,” Thomas said quickly. “Not yet.”
I bent down to look at Milo. His bottom lip stuck out like he was pouting over something in his sleep. It made me smile. His little socks were coming off his feet, but I didn’t want to risk waking him yet by pulling them up. He scrunched his nose and made a kissy face.
“You’re too adorable,” I whispered. “I mean, how could you not be with parents like that? You’ll be real clever too, like your dad. And I bet your mom kicks ass too. I thought maybe I wouldn’t like her, but yeah, she seems really nice.” I swallowed hard. “You’re going to turn out just fine, little boo. No matter what.” I straightened and found two pairs of eyes gazing down on me. “Uh.”
“Here,” Thomas said, handing me a cup. “Too sweet, just as you like it.”
I felt my face go hot. “Thanks.”
Liesbeth sat down cross-legged on the floor. Milo kicked his legs and opened his eyes. He yawned widely and with his entire face, in that way only babies can. And then his gaze fixed on his mother. I nearly burst into tears when he gave her the most beautiful smile.
The thing with babies is, sometimes they cry and cry, and no matter what you do, they won’t stop. We arrived back at the house around four, and Milo had been crying since we got in the car.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, turning around in my seat. All I saw was the back of his carrier. “Do you think he’s missing his mom?”
“I think he’s too young to realize what’s going on. Maybe he has a dirty diaper.” We’d stopped twice and checked it, but it’d been wet, that was all. Thomas worried his lip. “Do you think he has a fever?”
“Why don’t you come inside for a second? Your little first aid kit is still here. We can check it.”
“Okay.” He stared at me with wide eyes.
“What?”
“It’s one of those baby ones.”
“Well, yeah. I’d expect it to be.”
“It’s a rectal one,” he said.
“Oh.” I leaned into the passenger door. “Well, dude. You’re the dad. That’s where I draw the line.”
“Shit. Okay, let’s do this.”
I went to unlock the front door as Thomas freed a still-crying Milo from the car, and led the way to the dining table.
“You haven’t put anything away,” Thomas said.
My cheeks heated. “No.”
Thomas hesitated as he looked at me, then dug through the little first aid kit and produced a tiny thermometer.
“No, I’m googling this first.” He pulled out his phone and made a series of faces I’d have found hilarious if I weren’t becoming more and more worried about Milo squirming in his arms. “Right. I got this. We have to take off his diaper.”
I held back the duh and put Milo on the towels. “It’s okay, little fella,” I told him as he tried to throw a punch. “Good thing your arms are so short or I’d have two black eyes right now.”
Thomas worked him out of his onesie and diaper, then picked up the thermometer. “Can you hold his legs? Tight, so he can’t kick loose.” He paused. “But not too tight. We don’t want to hurt him.”
“Thomas,” I said, “I’ve got this end. You deal with the other end.”
“Okay.” He blew out a deep breath, dabbed some Vaseline on the tip of the thermometer, and pinched his lips together.
Milo’s face drew in like a thunder cloud. “I know, buddy. It’s not fair, is it? Oh look, he’s really getting mad now, Thomas. Look at that, his face is going all re—”
“Oh God.” Thomas straightened quickly.
“Well.” I made a face, reached for a box of wipes, and handed them to Thomas. When I looked down at Milo, he was smiling. “I guess now we know why you were crying, huh?”
“No fever,” Thomas said weakly, and I laughed.
The crying must’ve worn Milo out, because he fell asleep in Thomas’s arms not long after.
“Do you think he can nap in his crib here for a while?”
It made my heart hurt that he thought he had to ask. “Of course.”
I hadn’t seen Thomas or Milo in two days. I hadn’t slept, had barely eaten. My house felt like an echoing cave in its silence, and I ached for Thomas so much. Maybe a year was fast to move on, but I couldn’t help how I felt. I loved Thomas, and I wanted to live with him. If that meant selling this house, I would. He was right. The past stuck to me like cling film, and while I adored this place, at the end of the day it was only a house.
“You need to sit down or I’m shoving a Xanax down your throat.”
I glared at Cleo, walked into the hallway, peered through the frosted glass oval in my front door, saw nothing but pouring rain, and twisted around to face the tall mirror beside the coatrack. When Thomas had texted me this morning asking if the date was still on . . . Well. There had been squealing.
My hair was perfect, for once. I’d gone to my hairdresser right after work, and she had performed a miracle. She’d managed to make it smooth and soft on the sides, and swept my bangs back in some sort of bump that veered off the right. I looked stylish and fabulous, so of course it was raining like it hadn’t rained in weeks. I was wearing a new pair of tight, distressed jeans that hugged my ass lovingly; a crisp, gray, short-sleeved button-down; and a thick burgundy cardigan with large buttons. I’d taken it off for now because all the pacing was making me hot.
Cleo was right. I needed to sit down before I began to sweat. I glanced at the overnight bag I’d packed and suppressed the urge to run my hands through my hair. I didn’t know if we were still going to spend the night at his house, but I wanted to be prepared.
“He’s fifteen minutes late,” I told Cleo, who was lounging on my sofa, ready for babysitting duties. “What if he changed his mind? What if he’s not coming? What if he is coming and I’m such a disappointment he never wants to see me again?”
She sat up quickly and pointed at the other end of the couch. I hurried to go sit.
“Okay, here’s the thing: he’s been in love with you for so long, you could have a tiny dick, and he wouldn’t care.” I squawked, but she held up a hand. “By now we all know that’s not the case, thanks to Sam’s talented hands.” She gave me a stern look. “He has a baby, Ollie. A baby he’s been alone with for a week. People with babies are never on time.”
“Okay.”
“Aw, Ollie.” She scooted over and put her hand on my leg. “You’ll be fine.”
I covered her hand with mine. “I’m sorry. I’m being a total insensitive ass, aren’t I? How’s it going with you? Imran decided he didn’t want to babysit?”
She shrugged. “We broke up.”
“Oh no, Cleo . . .” I straightened, ready to hug her if she needed me to, but she looked surprisingly calm and collected.
“I’m okay with it, actually. I think . . . I have some things I need to work through. And I think I want to be single for a while. We were good together, but . . . I fell from one relationship into the next. I’ve never been alone, and I think I want to be.”
I knew what she meant. “When did you see him last?”
“He moved out on Sunday night. I haven’t seen him since. He calls every day though. The hardest thing will be giving up the apartment. I love that place, but I can’t pay for it by myself. I’ll have to give the landlord my month’s notice.”
“Oh, babe.” I put my arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. She might not need a hug, but I did. Everything was changing. “You know you can stay here for as long you need to if you can’t find anything better.”
“With you and Thomas and a baby?”
“Fingers crossed, right? I mean it. Ther
e’s plenty of room. And if things don’t work out with Thomas, I might need you here to console my inconsolable self.”
She rolled her eyes at me.
“Are you sure you’re done with Imran?”
“I’m not sure, no. But I don’t see how I can forgive him making me feel bad over what happened with Thomas while he has ‘commitment issues.’” She finger quoted the last bit. “It’s such a clusterfuck, but I still love him.”
“You have to do what’s right for you though,” I told her and squeezed her tighter. “Even if it’s difficult right now.”
She nodded. “I know.”
The doorbell rang, and I sprang up so fast I nearly dumped Cleo on the floor. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine.” She laughed, then stared at me. “Well?” She widened her eyes. “Are you going to let him stand out there in the rain?”
“Oh shit!” I sprinted to the door and yanked it open. “Hi,” I said breathlessly. Disappointment nearly strangled me when I saw that he didn’t have Milo with him. I stepped aside automatically to let him in. “Is . . . Are we changing plans?”
“A little bit,” Thomas gave me a dark look, and had opened his mouth to say something else when Cleo appeared in the hallway.
“Well, I’ll be on my way. Have a good time, boys.” She winked, pushed open the umbrella she’d left by the door, and disappeared into the rain.
I stared after her. “But . . .” I looked at Thomas. “Where’s Milo? Why is Cleo not babysitting him? Did you change your mind?”
Thomas crowded me against the front door, tilted my chin up, and kissed me. He nipped at my mouth and sucked on my tongue, bit the edge of my jawline, and licked the tendon stretching taut at the side of my neck.
He looked a little dazed when he came up for air. “What did you ask me?”
“Why Milo isn’t babysitting Cleo. Or . . . something along those lines.” I surreptitiously let the door take my weight because my knees felt like they were made from marshmallows.
“Oh.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “Fuck, I really missed you. I’m not used to being at my own house by myself anymore.” He nuzzled my neck, and I had trouble focusing. “Your mom has Milo for the whole weekend, and Cleo is going to keep her company tonight. Cleo called your mom to see if that was okay, since she didn’t want to do it by herself. Did she tell you she broke up with Imran?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s sad. But maybe for the best.”
“I think so too. And then I thought we’d probably be more comfortable in your house since mine is an epic mess right now.” He laughed reluctantly. “I survived with Milo, but that’s pretty much it.”
“That’s . . . that’s fine with me.” I ran my fingers gently through his hair. “So you did okay these last few days?”
“I . . . Yeah.” He lifted his head and looked at me, then cupped my face and kissed me lightly. “I wanted to see if I could do it alone. Be with Milo all by myself. And I could. It was exhausting, but doable. But I kept wondering why I was alone in my house while you were alone in your house, and I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” I whispered, and we stood there, foreheads pressed together in silence for a long time.
“I gave my landlord my notice,” he said. “So if you changed your mind about us moving in here, please tell me now so I can get the panicking out of the way.”
“Are you serious?” I straightened and nearly brained him. “I pretty much decided to sell this place and move wherever you wanted.” I paused. “Within reason. I don’t do rural life.”
Thomas laughed, and he sounded as giddy as I felt. “You’d sell the house?”
“Yes. You were right. I was hung up on the idea of this place meaning something because of Sam. But it’s you and me now. You and me and Milo.”
Thomas closed his eyes and crushed me tight. “This place does mean something,” he said. “And it’s a beautiful house. I want to live here. Together we can take care of the mortgage easily. If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course I’m okay with that. Oh my God. Really?” I sobered. “You’re not feeling obliged to help me pay for this house, are you? We can wait. Not too long, though. I missed you like crazy. But we could if you wanted to.”
“I’m doing it because I love you and I missed you like crazy too. And so did Milo. So what do you say? Roomies?”
“Roomies,” I whispered, and then, because I wanted him to know exactly what I meant by that, “Joint homeowners.”
He grinned at me. “Boyfriends.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I’m pretty tempted to just stay here,” Thomas said. “But you look so good, it’d be a real waste.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” I ran my hands down his chest, felt the rise and fall of his pecs, the bumps of his nipples. “We could totally stay in.”
“I want to have that date.” He caught my hands and held them before they could trail too low. “A real first date, like we were meant to have.”
My knees still felt a little weak. “That sounds nice.” I squirmed against him, then bit the bullet. “I guess we should talk about expectations.” He frowned at me, and I waved a hand in the air. “You know. Sex-wise. I mean . . . I’ve topped once or twice in my life, but I could, you know. Live without it. You?”
He leaned so close I saw the striations in his irises. “Can I live with fucking you?” he murmured, and lightly pressed his lips to mine. “Oh fuck yeah.”
Thomas took me to Het Gerecht, a restaurant where Sam and I used to go for special occasions, but I didn’t tell him that. In a way that made it even nicer to be there, as if Sam were looking down on us and giving his blessing. I sent him some kind thoughts and then gently pushed him from my mind.
The interior was crisp and clean, but warmed through with a dark wooden floor and vibrant red paintings on the white walls. We drank excellent wine and ate even better food. The dishes were deliberately small, with the intention that the diner would choose four or five, and we shared baby lobster with asparagus, lamb with beans, beets and aubergines, trout with hummus, an assortment of breads and cheeses that was to die for, and in the end a delicate vanilla ice cream with red fruits. Every plate was presented so beautifully, it was almost a shame to touch it.
We tried talking about lots of things, but kept coming back to Milo, and that was okay. We were a family. And families talk about their kids.
When Thomas led me to his car, he held me close and kissed my temple. “Did you have a good time?”
“The best,” I said. I tried not to watch the shadows as we walked, but felt relief when we climbed into his car regardless. I wondered if that was a fear I was going to carry for the rest of my life. Maybe it would be, but I wasn’t about to let it stop me from living my life.
“You okay?” Thomas asked. He took his hand off the gear stick for a second and squeezed my knee.
“Yeah. Just remembering things.” I smiled to make sure he knew I wasn’t hurting.
“It’s okay to think about him, you know.”
“I know.”
We drove home in silence, and nervous anticipation about how the night would continue tickled my spine. Until now we’d always sort of landed on the couch in desperation when we thought we had a moment to ourselves. This deliberate drive toward an empty house, with only one plausible outcome, was something else altogether.
I tried not to fidget, but my palms were damp and I felt a little claustrophobic.
Thomas must’ve noticed, because by the time I was unlocking my front door, he asked me again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I stepped aside and let him in, then turned on the hall light and took off my shoes. Thomas looked absolutely divine. He hadn’t had a lot of wine to drink during dinner, but what he’d had left a rosy blush on his cheeks. His thick hair was layered over the right side of his forehead, and his eyes sparkled, although he did look worried.
“I guess I’m nervous.” I
laughed. He gazed at me intently, and I looked at my feet. “It’s been, you know . . .” I fluttered my hand and said nothing else.
Thomas stepped closer and pulled me into his arms. Without my shoes on, he was even taller, and I leaned against his chest. “Ollie, you know we don’t have to—”
“I know. And it’s not about having to. It’s been a while, and apart from Peter, there was only—”
“Don’t talk to me about Peter,” Thomas growled in my ear. I looked up at him, startled. “All I ever wanted was you, and then you went out with this stranger. Texting me you were going home with him. You were dating him. I was going out of my mind.”
I cupped his face. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know I was hurting you.”
He held my hands against his cheeks and smiled. “I know that. I’m not mad about it now. But at the time I was ready to yank my hair out.”
“You never said anything.”
“What was I meant to say?” He took off his coat, and I went a bit woozy seeing those thick biceps roll under his sweater. “‘Oh, by the way, Ollie, now that you’re single in the most horrific way, fancy giving me a go? I’ve been pining for you since the day we met.’”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “That was you pining? Going home with someone else every weekend?”
He laughed and put his hands on my shoulders. “Well, I could either pine and be miserable or live with it and have some fun. We were never meant to be. I knew that.”
“And yet here we are.”
He bit his lip, and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.
“Here we are,” he whispered, and he used me for balance as he stepped out of his shoes, then drew me closer again and kissed me. I felt the bulge in his pants, but I also noticed the tremor in his hands.
“You’re nervous too,” I whispered.
“Of course I am. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. What if—what if—”
I pressed my mouth to his to silence him. “I know,” I said against his lips. “I know.”
We fumbled our way upstairs. I took off his sweater and floundered over the buttons of his shirt. His hands got stuck in both sleeves because I’d forgotten to take off his cuff links, so there was awkward bumping together halfway up the steps, trying to untangle him. When we reached the bedroom, he helped me undress, but I attempted to take off my socks before he pulled my pants down and ended up tripping over my own feet. I landed on the bed in an ungraceful heap and tried to laugh my way through it, but on the inside my heart hammered nervously.