Then went ballistic at me because I didn’t notice he had eaten them—even though we were in the same room.
In my defence, my mind has been on nothing but my wife for weeks now. This pregnancy has been nothing like her last pregnancy with the twins. She’s weak more often, tired more often, and snappy more often. Her hormones are so up and down I never know where I stand. I can’t do right, no matter what I do. And I know a lot of it has to do with the fact that she’s scared. The twins are nearly four, and with her university course and working part-time, she’s been worried about how she’ll do it, forgetting she isn’t alone. I guess this is something mothers go through, as do fathers, since I’ve had the same hang-ups.
Those fears, however, have manifested, and all of her pregnancy hormones along with them; heightening everything that is happening.
She’s never mean—she doesn’t know how to be. She’s just tired, confused, and honestly, at this stage, fed up. She’s thirteen days overdue and has her inducement booked in for three days’ time.
But my wife is suffering and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Her breakdowns are tearing me apart. The other day she started crying because we had no pepper, so I ran out and quickly grabbed some from the corner shop. The second I handed it over to her she burst into hysterics, getting so worked up we had to put her up to bed so she could lie down. And that is only one of her grateful outbursts.
Her blood pressure is low—extremely low—and I’m worried. I’m concerned about my wife.
And now I can’t even be with my wife because Max got me kicked out of my own home for eating the only thing that has given her comfort.
To make matters worse, I had planned to go back and grovel with boxes of Creme Eggs. I know how hard it’s been for her, especially with her being overdue, and I just want to make it better.
However, that isn’t going to fucking plan.
Fucking Max.
Max got kicked out of his own house when he went to the triplets’ defence. He high-fived the little rugrats whilst Lake was trying to discipline them. Lake has tried everything to get into a routine, to get some much-needed R and R, but the triplets are hellions and have other plans for their mum. So, she has been sending them to private day cares. And each one has ended the same—with the owners calling for Lake to go get the triplets. This is the last day care in our area and today, they got kicked out. And from what Max said, they aren’t allowed back there under any circumstances.
Max being Max, didn’t try to talk to his three infants, and instead high-fived the little rugrats. Lake lost it and told Max to go to the shop to get her some tampons and to take his time doing it—clearly needing a break.
Which would have been fine had he not come to mine first, pissed my wife off, and got us both kicked out of our homes.
If none of that happened, I wouldn’t be here right now. Because, even at his age, even after the last incident, Max still couldn’t buy his own wife tampons, and his reasons were because everything down under changes after the birth of a child—whatever that means.
So, after picking up a box of each size, a multi pack, he then hid them under his jacket, not wanting to get seen with them. And instead of explaining any of that to the security guard who had been following us, Max started yelling about how the shop was being discriminative. So, after security spent twenty-minutes chasing him around the shop, the police arrived, and we were both taken in so they could fill out an incident report.
Which is where we are now. A police station. When I should be at home with my wife.
Max gives me a sideward glance as he drums his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Bro, I said I’m sorry.”
I slam my fist against the table. “Max, you are always sorry. You’ve got fucking triplets now. You are married, for fuck’s sake. When are you going to grow up? I need to be in the police station like I need a knife to my gut. I should be at home with Harlow.”
“Fuck, I said I’m sorry. It’s not like she won’t forgive you. She loves me. I’ll have a word with her for you. I promise it will be the first thing I do once we get out of here.”
I grit my teeth so hard I swear I hear one crack. “No, you won’t.”
“Bro—”
“Don’t,” I bite out, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Just don’t. I’ll never understand why you do the things you do, so don’t try to explain.”
“Only Lake understands me, and even she’s in a mood with me right now.”
“Can you blame her? You high-fived your kids for stealing every kid’s lunch box and eating the contents.”
“Yeah, because they proved they can provide for themselves,” he argues. “I’m a proud father.”
“And the care worker? How about what she went through?”
“Let’s not talk about that,” he mutters, dropping his elbow onto the table as he leans in closer. “I want my kids to be free to do whatever the fuck they want. Is that so wrong?”
“It is when their mum is at her wits end.”
His brows bunch together. “She’s at her wits end?”
I give him the side-eye. “Clue in, Max. She’s exhausted. The triplets give her the run around twenty-four-seven.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just want to give them what we didn’t have.”
I give in, needing to know what he means—or try to understand what he means. “What are you going on about?”
He locks his fingers behind his head, swinging back on the chair. “I want them to feel safe enough to spill a drink on the floor, to eat the last chocolate bar, to ruin their dad’s trainers or their mum’s shoes.”
“And to set their carer’s desk on fire?”
The front legs of his chair drop to the floor with a thud as he points a finger at me, glaring. “That was an accident, and you know it.”
“Bro, they were screaming, ‘bigger’ and ‘pretty’ whilst clapping their hands,” I mutter.
“Whatever.”
“It still doesn’t excuse all of this,” I point out, gesturing to the integration room.
He sags over the table. “Because parenting is hard. I’m stressed that my wife is stressed. And when I’m stressed, I do stupid shit. Fucking sue me.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I snap.
PC Lankan steps into the room, scratching the back of his head. The female officer, PC Dylan, ducks her head, hiding her amusement. I guess Max really made a first impression on her. PC Lankan has dealt with us a few times before, which is why when he first arrived at the supermarket, he tried to get back in his car and leave.
“Am I arrested?” Max demands. “Because I want this on record. I wasn’t stealing them. Why would I? I’m a guy and I have no use for them. And even if someone did try to steal sanitary products, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. If someone is desperate enough to risk being caught stealing them, then they need them and should be given them anyway. I don’t—"
Lankan hooks his thumb into his belt. “You don’t have to explain. Again,” he tells him. “One of the shift managers turned up as we were getting you into the car. She explained you are a regular and a bit weird to the security guy and that you meant no harm.”