“Want me to read it?” Marcus offers.
“Sure.”
He looks at me with a raised brow, but I just shrug my shoulder and turn over on my side to listen to him read. He’s surprised I’m letting him because this is usually something I would get defensive over. In the past, I’ve said no to him almost every time he’s offered to do something because I wanted to do it all myself. Prove I didn’t need him. Prove to who, I still don’t know. Me, I suppose, but all I really did was make myself miserable and tired.
Marcus softly reads the tale of three bears while Harmony falls asleep against his side, with me on the other, still basking in my post-orgasmic high.
I can’t believe that happened. When tomorrow comes, we’ll have to talk about it. Restate the rules. We can’t do that again. His chest vibrates under my cheek in rhythm as he reads, and soon I feel so relaxed I have to close my eyes. As my body hums with his voice, like a lullaby assuring me everything’s going to be ok, I drift off.
The following day my head fills with a familiar melody and John Lennon’s voice. My daughter belts out the Beatle’s catchy lyrics and Marcus backs her up. I can’t help but laugh as I stretch and open my eyes. Familiar blue blankets surround me, and I realize I’ve been moved to my bed. I wonder if I slept alone or if he slept here with me. Rolling over, I bury my face in the pillow just in time to get caught by my daughter bursting through the door.
“Mommy!” Harmony shouts and jumps onto my bed. “What are you doing?”
“Um,” I mumble, turning to look at her. “Just waking up, baby. Did you sleep ok?'“
“Yeah, I did. Dad made breakfast. Get up, sleepy head.” And with that, she runs out of the room.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee makes its way to my nose, and I finally get motivated to get up, swinging my leg over the side and swiping my crutches. My body aches, but I know I need breakfast before I can take any painkillers, or it’ll hurt my stomach, and I’ll just end up feeling worse. After I hit the bathroom, I make my way very slowly down the stairs.
“Hey you,” Marcus says with a smile when he sees me.
“Good morning.” It’s hard to look at his handsome face after what we did yesterday. Even cuddling in bed with Harmony is something we don’t do. We can’t, we’ll confuse our daughter, and that’s not fair. No, we need to talk.
“Your parents called, said they’d be arriving today. They said they found a spot at Mom and Declan’s RV park.”
“They could just stay here.”
“Rooms taken.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes me nervous.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yep. I’ve moved in to help out.”
My stomach somersaults, and my hackles rise. The familiar impulse to defend myself lashes out.
“Well, I don’t need your help. It’s just a broken ankle. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and our daughter on my own, Marcus.”
He takes a deep breath before answering and glances at our daughter, who’s busy eating French toast and watching Fancy Nancy, oblivious to what we’re discussing, but still, we’ve always tried our best not to argue in front of her.
Marcus comes around the island with a plate stacked with French toast and strawberries. Is that powdered sugar? Damn it to hell. He made my favorite breakfast.
“Grace, I would never do anything to undermine you. You are the greatest mother to our daughter, and I know you’re a badass queen who can do everything herself. I just want to help. Try to make it easier on you because you deserve to take it easy sometimes. You work hard, and now that you broke your leg, I can and will be here to help. I can take Harmony to music class, visit her grandparents, or swim at the beach.” He holds up a finger to stop me from protesting again. “I know you can do those things too, but it would hurt you. Even with painkillers, you’re supposed to be resting, not running all over town because your daughter is a social butterfly. Don’t worry,” he winks. “I got this.”
Leaving me speechless, he lays down the plate and a cup of steaming hot coffee. I don’t want to do it, I defiantly don’t want it to happen, prove him right on something, but I smile as I take that first glorious sip of caffeine. That sound he’s laughing at is not a moan. It was meant to be a growl because I’m not happy despite my actions. I especially hate the part of his argument where he’s right and I’m wrong. I know I need to rest. It just pisses me off to be told what I can and can’t do. But maybe a little help would be okay.
“Good?”
“Fine, you win this one, but it’s only because of the French toast. You’re not right.”
“Of course not,” he laughs, taking the seat between Harmony and me.
“We still need to have a serious conversation about how this is going to work.”
“Sure. We can talk, but it’s easy, not serious. Everything is going to be great.” As he says it, my treacherous heart soars with hope, but this can’t work. There is no way Marcus has changed from workaholic to Mr. Mom. We’re co-parenting, not trying to make a relationship work. Yesterday was a mistake, and although I’ll never say that or regret it a single second, I know I can’t let it happen again.
“Harmony, go brush your teeth if you’re all done. Daddy has to get you to band practice before you’re late.”
Marcus smiles at my apparent acceptance of his help.