I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart thumping so hard that I could feel it in my ears.
“I’m sorry,” Cecilia said from the doorway of my room. “I thought she might settle down if I walked around with her, but I didn’t realize your door was open.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked blearily, leaning up on my elbow.
“Nothing that I can tell,” she said. She sounded close to tears herself. “She’s just pissed. Every time I sit down, she starts back up again.” She was swaying from side to side and the baby’s cries turned to whimpers as she spoke.
“Why don’t I take her for a little bit?” I said. I wasn’t going back to sleep anyway. “You can get some rest.”
“No, that’s okay,” she said as I sat up and threw the bedding back. Her words trailed off and her eyes widened.
I realized way too late that I was sitting there in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Thank Christ, my dream had completely obliterated any erection I’d had from my preferred method of falling asleep.
“I’ll grab some pants,” I mumbled, pushing up from the bed.
“Don’t cover up on my account,” Cecilia said jokingly, though she sounded exhausted. “Jesus, I didn’t even know you were capable of that.”
“Of what?” I asked, glancing down to double-check that I wasn’t sporting wood as I pulled a pair of sweats out of my dresser.
“That.” She waved her hand at me, her eyes focused on the tattoo of her name on my chest before she looked away. “I didn’t even know your body could make that much muscle.”
I laughed. “It couldn’t when I was nineteen.”
“Steroids?” she asked in mock understanding. “How’re your balls?”
“I don’t do steroids and my balls are fine,” I shot back, striding toward her. “Boob job?” I asked as I took the baby from her arms.
She gasped and her jaw dropped.
“Actually,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, “breastfeeding.”
I just nodded as I settled the baby against me, gently rubbing her back.
“I can’t believe you said that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Hey,” I murmured. “You opened that particular door asking about my balls.”
“I was joking!”
“So was I.”
Cecilia stared at me for a moment and then snorted. “Jesus,” she said with a sigh, her voice wobbling. Using both hands to comb her hair back from her face, she tilted her head toward the ceiling. “I’m so fucking tired.”
I didn’t know if it was the memory I’d stupidly conjured up or the fact that she seemed so vulnerable that made me do it, but I reached for her, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck to pull her in, tucking her against my chest next to the baby. I refused to think about all the shit between us, the history, or the fact that she’d be gone the next day.
Chapter 5
Cecilia
Trembling, I pressed my forehead against Mark’s chest. Somehow, without even knowing myself, he’d known exactly what I needed.
I was independent to a fault. I never asked for help if I didn’t have to, and I handled anything that came my way. But I’d never appreciated a hug more than I did at that moment.
We stood there holding each other for a long time. Mark’s hand didn’t stray from my neck, and I didn’t move my hands from where I’d placed them on his back. He rocked us slowly from side to side, his lips pressed to the top of my head, and eventually, I felt myself start to relax into him more and more.
“Come on,” he said eventually, his voice gravelly. “You need some sleep.”
I was groggy when he pulled away and it took me a second to get my bearings, but he hadn’t gone far. Standing at the side of the bed, his eyes met mine as he lifted the blankets in invitation. It was a bad idea and we both knew it, but I just didn’t have it in me to do anything but close the distance between us and crawl into the king size bed.
The sheets smelled like him. Whatever he wore—it was probably just body wash and deodorant—was different than I remembered, but his smell, the scent that was specifically him, hadn’t changed. Curling onto my side in the center of the bed, I let out a long breath.
“She’s sleeping now,” Mark said as he rounded the bed. He laid the baby down next to me so gently that I felt tears sting the back of my nose.
As he walked away, I rested my hand against her chest, comforted by the rise and fall. I was so caught up in watching her, my eyes barely open as the tension finally seeped from my body, that I didn’t realize he’d gone to the opposite side of the bed until he was sliding in behind me.
We didn’t talk about it. He didn’t ask if it was okay. I didn’t ask him what he was doing. By unspoken agreement, we just let it be, but I was hyperaware of every move he made. I was conscious of every inch between us. The tension I’d finally released was back, but it was fraught with more emotions than I knew how to name.
I curled my arm up under the pillow so my head rested in the crook of my elbow. He rolled to his side. I pulled my hand from the baby girl’s chest and tucked it beneath my chin. He fidgeted with the blankets.
Finally, he pressed forward, his body aligning with mine from knees to shoulders. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
I rolled slightly forward, straightening my bottom leg while the top stayed bent. Like a key fitted into a lock, his top leg slid over mine, and his weight pressed against my back. I closed my eyes as his hand skimmed my waist and slid beneath my shirt to rest against my ribs.
It wasn’t sexual, not in the way it would’ve been with anyone else. It was comfort. I couldn’t remember the number of times we’d slept that way, his body wrapped around mine. Still, I couldn’t stop the slight arch of my back and tilt of my hips that lined us up perfectly. His groan was nearly inaudible.
Then, miraculously, we slept.
I woke up later to the baby squirming next to me. She hadn’t started crying yet, but by the expression on her face, Armageddon was imminent.
“Where you going?” Mark murmured, his arm around me tightening as I started to slide away.
“Baby’s up,” I replied. He moved his arm and I crawled gingerly around the baby and off the side of the bed. When I stood, I cringed. Glancing between the baby and Mark, I considered my options. I really needed to get to the bathroom before I had a serious mess on my hands, but I couldn’t exactly take her in with me unless I wanted to lay her on the floor. Mark’s bathroom was clean, but he was a dude, and I highly doubted it was that clean. I could lay her on the guest room bed—
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“So, go.”
“Can she stay here with you?”
He stared at me, his expression confused. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” I said as I hurried around the bed.
“Stop fuckin’ thankin’ me,” he said tiredly, reaching up to scratch at his beard.
After I grabbed my supplies and cleaned up in the bathroom, I rifled through the bags we’d brought back from the store the night before. I’d gone a little crazy there, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Okay, maybe I was a little ashamed. When we’d gotten to the baby department, I’d gone a little manic when I’d realized how much shit she was going to need. I’d thrown things in the cart that I knew she probably wouldn’t use for a while, but some compulsion to have everything she could possibly need was overwhelming. Maybe it was the nesting that everyone had talked about and I’d never felt.