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“Hey,” she says, stepping back to let me in.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just trying to get things done. Paisley is wound for sound today.”
“I heard her crying.”
She sighs, her shoulder slumping in defeat. “Yeah, she insists on watching TV out here instead of in her room or mine, and she has to have it loud enough that I’m sure Mom can hear it at her place. I’ve had to repeatedly ask her to turn it down. I have a paper due by six tonight, and I need to concentrate.”
I open my arms and she walks into them. I hold her close, my mind racing as to what I can do to help. That’s when it hits me. “Go pack up your computer and whatever you need. You’re coming to my place. Sit out by the pool or use my office, the couch, whatever you need. Just go and get your work done. If you do it here, you’re just going to think about everything else on your list that you feel like you have to do today.”
“I’m fine here.”
“Nope. Go pack. I’m going to go get P, get her to pack some toys for later, but for now, she and I are going on a date.”
“A date?” she asks. Her eyes, although filled with stress, are just a little brighter at my words.
“A date,” I say again. “You’re going to go to my place and forget about work, about laundry, and whatever else you are worrying about in that pretty little head of yours. The fridge is stocked. You go and get your work done. When you’re finished, take a nap, take a swim, I don’t care. P and I will be on a date.”
“Easton,” she says, but I stop her from continuing by placing my finger over her lips.
“Let me do this. Let me take care of you. This is what you need, Ris. Time to think, to get caught up with school.”
“Just a couple of hours of focused time and I’ll be done.”
“Good. Then you can take the rest of the day for you. Relax, soak in the tub, read a book, go get a pedicure, whatever you want. I’ve got P. We’ll meet you back at my place later today.”
She opens her mouth then closes it again. When she finally finds her words, I’m shocked when she says, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Kissing her temple, I whisper, “You’re never going to have to find out.” Releasing her, I head toward Paisley’s room. I find her on her bed with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “What’s up, princess?”
“Mommy yelled at me.”
“She did?” I act as if I have no clue what’s going on.
“Yeah,” she says angrily.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Mommy’s having a bad day. Do you ever have bad days?”
“Like when Gram says I can’t have more cookies and they’re so, so good?”
I fight my grin. “Yep. That makes you upset and causes you to have a bad day. Mommies have bad days too.” I sit on her bed. “I have an idea. Mommy is working really hard this week at her job, picking up shifts, and she has a lot of schoolwork. How about you and I go spend the day together. Let Mommy have the house all to herself. It will be nice and quiet so she can focus.”
“She told me to be quiet.”
I nod. “Sometimes when you’re really trying hard to concentrate on something, you need quiet.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s get you a bag packed with some toys and a change of clothes, just in case. We’ll go have some fun and meet Mommy back at my house later today.”
“Can we swim?”
“Sure, P, just make sure you pack your bathing suit. Do you need any help?”
“Nope. I’m almost dis many.” She holds up five fingers.
“That’s right, you have a birthday coming up. Go get a bag packed. I’ll be in the living room talking to Mommy.”
“Okay!” she says excitedly, jumping off the bed. I watch her until I know she can reach her bag, which is located at the bottom of her closet, then leave her to pack.
“I take it she’s excited?” Larissa asks.
“She sure is. She’s packing a bag with toys, her swimsuit, and a change of clothes. You should do the same before you head to my place.”
She nods. “Thank you, Easton. I’m failing at mom life this week.”
“Hey.” I lift her chin with my index finger so I can look at her. “You’re not failing, baby. You’re stressed. You’ve put in a lot of hours this week, and school is hectic. It’s okay to ask for help. I’m here now. You don’t have to do this on your own.” Her answer is to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to mine.
“Ready,” Paisley says, dragging her bag that’s stuffed full into the living room.
