“I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t,” she snaps. “What time will you be home?”
“Uhm…” Fuck, I’m not sure what the right answer is here. “When do you want me home?”
Dad snorts and Mom slaps his chest.
“Will you be home for dinner?” she asks slowly.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’ll be home soon. Do you want me to pick something up?”
When she doesn’t answer, I move the phone from my ear and see she’s already hung up.
“You didn’t tell her you were coming here?” Mom repeats.
“She was sleeping. I thought I’d take RJ so she could get some sleep.”
“That was a very thoughtful gesture,” she says. “Especially based off everything you said happened last night and today, but you can’t leave with a mother’s baby without letting her know. Our first thought is, what if someone stole him?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think about that.” I scrub the sides of my face. “Apparently I haven’t thought about anything since I got home. I’ve fucked up more in eighteen hours…” I breathe out a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Marco says, sitting next to me. “It’s all new. Micaela has never lived on her own before. She doesn’t know how to do the laundry properly or run the dishwasher. She’s done it occasionally, but for the most part, her mom or our cleaning lady does it. The kids have always had chores, but they were also busy with school and extracurricular activities. She’s going to have to learn.”
“And it drives women nuts when you leave the toilet seat up,” Caleb adds with a laugh. “Hayley almost killed me when she fell in once.”
“No woman wants to pick up dirty clothes from all over the floor.” Mom scrunches her nose in disgust.
“And you have to always let the woman fall asleep first,” my dad says. “Especially if you snore. Your mom needs absolute silence to fall asleep. I can’t even watch the television in the room.”
“I didn’t think about any of that,” I admit, feeling like shit. “I might’ve lived with Laura for years, but I was rarely home, and when I was, we were like two ships passing in the night. More like roommates than spouses. We didn’t even share a room.”
“It just takes time and patience,” Mom says.
“So, what do I do now?” I ask. “How do I fix this?”
“I buy Hayley spa days,” Caleb says.
“I take your mom away,” Dad adds.
“I buy Bella houses,” Marco deadpans.
When everyone looks over at him, he shrugs. “How do you think we acquired the beach house in Venice, the cabin in Breckenridge, and the condo in Jupiter? I tend to fuck up a lot.”
“I would start with flowers,” Mom says. “And an apology.”
An hour later, I’m walking into the house with RJ in one hand and dinner and flowers in the other. I’m not even completely through the door when the scent of burnt food hits my senses. The smoke has clouded the living room and kitchen, so I swing the door back open to air it out. I set RJ down by the door so he’s not affected and go in search of Micaela.
I only make it as far as the dining room when I see her sitting at the table. With her head in her hands, she’s softly crying.
“Babe.”
She looks up at me and frowns, not even bothering to wipe her eyes that are filled with liquid. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and her face is all splotchy.
“Is there a fire?”
“No,” she says, her voice devoid of all emotion. “Just ruined dinner.”
It’s obvious we need to talk, but I first need to lay RJ down since he’s passed out in his car seat. I shut the front door and open a couple windows. Then, I carefully take him out of his car seat and lay him in his crib. He starts to fuss, his lips puckering, but the second I give him his pacifier, he calms, falling back into a content sleep.
“He’s asleep,” I say, sitting next to her at the table.
She nods and mutters, “Thanks.”
“I brought dinner.” I lift the bag I left on the table.
She eyes the bag for several long seconds before she shifts her gaze to me. “I made dinner.”
“I thought you said it burned.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t know that.” She huffs. “I asked you if you would be home for dinner and you said yes.”
“And I am.” Fuck, this woman has me so damn confused I don’t even know which way is up.
“My God, we suck at this,” she says, fresh tears filling her lids and falling. She shakes her head and covers her face with her hands.
Needing to touch her, I pull her into my lap, so she’s straddling me, and remove her hands from her face. “Stop it. Nobody sucks at anything.”