“And after she chugs it down like a frat boy with a Solo cup at a house party, she goes right back to sleep and doesn’t make a peep until eight. Doc already told me,” Seth cuts in. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, sis. We’ve got this.”
I let out a huff of laughter and wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry. I know you do. It’s just… this is our first night away from her.”
“Do you not remember the first time you kept Luna overnight for us?” Twyla asks, her eyes wide behind her thick-framed glasses.
I chuckle then. “Yeah, you were the conductor of the Hot Mess Express that evening. But you made it through, so I guess I will too.”
Seth sets Luna on her feet so she can take Twyla’s hand, then grabs a hold of the handle of Josy’s car seat. Josy peeks one eye open for only a moment before making a little squishy face and going right back to sleep. “Doc said he had an evening patient and will be done around nine. He picking you up here, or are you meeting him at home? Because you can’t be going out on your first real date in over six months dressed like that,” he says, eyeing my leggings and my purple T-shirt that says Astrid Walker School of Dance across my chest in gold glitter.
I roll my eyes. “He’s picking me up, but I brought all my stuff to get ready here, butthole.”
He glances at my messy bun, which I’m sure looks super shiny, but not in the pretty, extra-healthy pregnancy glow kind of way it once had. It’s grease. Lots and lots of grease, and maybe even some baby formula, and sweat from working my ass off in barre at the gym and then teaching three hours of dance classes in the evenings.
“You going to make use of that handy-dandy shower we installed?” he asks.
Aside from my dance studio, I also have a room in the back where I do professional makeup. I got my certification a couple years ago in cosmetology, but I lost a lot of my passion for it after an unfortunate event at a strip club. Doing it as a job was way different than doing it as a hobby I enjoyed. Instead, I do it by appointment for special occasions only, so I get to pick and choose when I want to do someone’s makeup. I also do the stage makeup for all our girls for competitions and recitals. Rather than having just a sink in my Babe Cave, as Brian’s wife Clarice dubbed it, I had them put in a whole shower. Clarice is a professional photographer, and when she asked if I could possibly do body paint for some of her photo shoots, I knew a sink wouldn’t do.
“Yes, Dad. I have almost two hours to scrub and primp. I think I’m looking forward to that as much as the date itself,” I say with a little laugh, and it’s sad how true that is. I haven’t taken a lot of time to take care of myself aside from my daily workouts. I’ve been too busy being a boss-ass bitch, running my own businesses, and being a helicopter mama. I wear the title proudly. Ain’t nothing bad ever going to happen to my baby girl. I lived enough of that for the both of us.
Don’t get me wrong. My husband spoils me rotten by letting me sleep in every morning while he wakes up with Josy. And he’s on daddy duty until his first appointment of each day. He’s the one who always gives the baby her 2:00 a.m. bottle so I can sleep a solid eight hours. And when he’s not at work, every minute is spent doting on me and our baby. It’s me who chooses not to waste any time away from my husband and little one on unimportant things like getting dolled up and… hygiene.
Ugh. I cringe as I think it.
I guess I’m just now realizing how gross I actually am most of the time, because Neil makes sure with every breath he takes that I know he believes I’m perfect in his eyes. I have no doubt he thinks I hung the moon, just as I’m positive he hung the stars. After all this time, he still calls me his goddess. So I never really put much thought into the fact that my poor husband went from having a woman who did a full face of makeup, styled her long blonde hair, and dressed to kill every single day after he helped me heal, to this… swamp creature currently staring back at me from the wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
My hand lifts to swipe down some flyaways, and I grimace when they slick down with the amount of sweat and oil currently sitting on my scalp. “I’m… going to bathe now,” I say woodenly, turning my “ew” face to my sister, who is biting her bottom lip, holding back a giggle I know she wants to let loose.