Mom’s sitting at the breakfast bar cradling a cup of coffee. She flaps her hand at me in a “chill the fuck out” bid, then hooks a thumb toward the living room and puts a finger on her lips.
Tiptoeing into the living room, I hold my breath. Butnothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming adorableness right there on my couch.
Raffi and Wyatt are snuggled under a blanket, Wyatt curled in the crook of Raffi’s arm with a bowl of goldfish crackers on his lap. Blippi is on the TV which is how I know Raffi’s all in. No way in hell Wyatt gets to watch Blippi with me on a Sunday morning. Trolls is my current favorite.
The closer I get, the more obvious it becomes that Wyatt is out cold, and my hot, grown-ass-adult hockey playing boyfriend is sitting glued to my kid’s favorite TV show. It’s not even that he can’t reach the remote, it’s right next to him on the arm. He’s just invested in Blippi’s travels to a hockey rink.
On screen, Blippi’s riding around in a Zamboni living his best life. On the couch, Raffi’s cramming my son’s goldfish crackers in his face, livinghisbest life, too. I turn to find my camera. This moment is one Raffi’s going to want to remember for the rest of his life. I do, too.
When he finally notices me, I’m leaning against the doorframe, a half drunk cup of coffee in hand, and the panic that had seized me when I woke up is long gone.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I almost laugh out loud. There’s no way I look beautiful right now. I’m not wearing a bra, my giant boobs are practically at my belly button, there’s a hole in the knee of my pj pants, and my hair… Oof. God knows what that looks like considering the amount of sexing we did overnight. It probably looks like I stuck my finger in an outlet.
But I can’t help but smile.
“Wanna watch Blippi?”
With a shake of my head, some wayward fuzzy curls fall into my face. “I’d rather cleave my nipples off and feed them to a bear.”
He rolls his lips, silent laughter shaking his body. “I was thinking.”
“Did it hurt?” I make my way around the room and plop down on the arm chair sitting a couple of feet from his side of the couch.
He nods. “Almost always.”
Wyatt stirs in his arms, letting out a soft snore. He doesn’t generally nap this early in the day, or at all much these days—he decided he just doesn’t need them—but this is the most adorable thing I’ve seen. And I birthed a cute kid.
“Mom invited me over for Sunday dinner.”
I know where this is going before it even leaves his mouth. He wants to take Wyatt to meet his parents. I knew it was going to happen at some time, I just wasn’t ready for it to happen now. I guess I could follow them, and sit around the corner from his parents’ house in case something goes wrong.
I need to slow my roll. That’s stalking. And creepy. And from everything I’ve seen between Raffi and Wyatt, there are few things Raffi couldn’t handle as his dad. Even if something happened, Raffi’s parents raised Raffi, and they’d know what to do in case of an emergency.
So why does my stomach feel like the choppy ocean on a rainy day?
He slips his hand over mine. “I’d like to bring you and Wyatt to meet them. If you’re not ready, that’s cool. But Dad carves a mean joint of meat, and Mom has already bought one of every toy she has found since the day she knew Wyatt existed. They’re ready. But if you’re not, then that’s the end of the discussion.”
He always knows what to say, right at the moment I need to hear it. Tears well in my eyes. Not because he’s being considerate and patient, but because he included me. He wants to introduce me to his family. It hits just how much I mean to him, which, considering the fact I thought for three years he abandoned me because there was something wrong with me, well, it chokes me up.
“What is it, Firecracker?”
“You want me to meet your mom.”
“And dad. Of course I do. I’ve met your mom. You know it’s the natural progression of relationships, right?”
A tearful laugh bubbles out of my mouth. All I need now is to snot in front of him, and I’ll complete my swamp witch get-up. “Yeah, but, I dunno. I just. For so long I thought there was something wrong with me.”
His other hand cups the one already holding mine and he pulls my hand to his mouth to kiss my knuckles one at a time. “It was never you, Victoria. Not ever. And if I have to spend every day convincing you of that until you believe me, I will.”
His knuckles graze my cheek, catching my tears as they trickle down my face. “You know how special you are?”
Not? Ugh. I hate that’s my first reaction to his question, but it’s how I feel. I wouldn’t say it out loud. If Wyatt heard me talking smack about myself, I’d get a talking to. Even at two years old he knows we only talk positively about ourselves.
“I fell for you once. Hit my head and lost my memory. And fell for you all over again.” He leans forward, careful not to upset Wyatt where he’s starting to stir. “I might never get my memory back of our first time meeting. But I don’t need it, because I already love you all over again. Falling in love with the same woman twice? Especially when she dumps a drink on your head? That’s pretty special, becauseyou’repretty special.”
This hot-mess-mom-express is ugly crying now. Thick, heavy tears stream off my chin and onto my shirt. Raffi’s smile is soft, and a sniff from the direction of the kitchen tells me Mom’s as emotional about it all as I am.
