The Love Between the First and Last
Page 93
“Psh.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t you hear, Mom’s making mimosas?”
This woman is so beautiful. I tell her softly, “I did hear that.”
“But a maple latte Monday morning wouldn’t be refused.”
And there she is. “Of course, it wouldn’t.”
She lets out a soft sound as she falls back to the bed again, her hand still holding mine. “How long do you think we have before it wakes up?”
“By it you mean our daughter?” She holds her breath as she waits for my answer. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get the full night with Harlow in there with her.”
“There is a God.”
This woman.
“We’ll resume howling at the moon tomorrow night,” I assure, swallowing my chuckle when she throws me a glare.
“Bite your tongue, Sir.”
“Careful,” I warn as I push up to move my body over hers, nipping at her lip between stolen kisses. “You’re giving me ideas.”
She throws her arms around my shoulders. “As if they weren’t already there.”
“Someone has to take the blame.”
She laughs another soft laugh, lifting her head from the pillow to kiss me soft and slow. Then she pulls away, snuggles her head into my chest and sighs a sigh that tells me exactly what she wants, and what she wants is sleep.
I don’t blame her. It’s been nearly three years of sleepless nights with Mabel’s penchant to howl at the moon.
I hold my wife tighter as I let my eyes drift closed for just a moment.
A moment turns into morning, and I wake to realize that we never undressed from yesterday’s clothes.
37
ALL IS RIGHT
APRIL 2021 – 31 YEARS OLD
Aflicker catches my eye as I step out of our bedroom into the hall. It's coming from the stairs, and as I make my way there, I hear donkey trying to woo the dragon.
I pad into the kitchen, heading for the stove—well, the cabinet above the stove where we store the painkillers.
I pop the top of a bottle of Tylenol. I shove my head under the tap, chasing two pills down with tap water before I look to find my daughter peeking at me from the back of the couch.
“What are you doing up, kiddo?” I ask.
“It's morning,” she says innocently.
My eyes slide to the clock on the stove. Seeing the time only hurts my head more.
“It's two in the morning.”
“That's morning, Daddy.”
Technically, she's correct. It is morning, but it's too early to be called morning.
“You can watch Donkey woo the dragon in the morning. Let's get a few more hours of shut-eye.”