"How about I get us something to drink?"
I don't answer, but she goes anyway. I watch as she pads across the darkened living room into the kitchen. I hear more than see her turn on the stove light and then piece together her movements as she gets mugs and pours water and opens the microwave door.
I'm not sure what she's fixing, but tea isn't my thing. I don't have the heart to tell her, though. Right now, I'd probably choke down mud if it meant getting that worried look off her face. Especially if it meant her sticking around because, right now? I don't want to slide back into that nightmare, and it's still skirting the edges of my mind.
I hear her in another cabinet and focus on the sounds. She's learned her way around already, and that's a good thing. Wondering what she's doing is a distraction, and it's all too easy to distract myself with the remembered sight of her, dressed in sleep shorts and a tank top. She's covered up and perfectly presentable, wearing more than most women on the beach, but seeing as how we're virtually strangers, her attire lends a certain intimacy to the moment. One I appreciate probably more than I should.
I recite her words about boundaries and professionalism and realize too late that after getting me back into the chair after the shower, I'd basically passed out and missed holding the conversation we'd discussed. "Where's Madi?"
Lindsey sticks her head out of the kitchen long enough to grin at me, and that sets me on fire for a whole other reason.
"She's in her room. You hit the chair and fell sound asleep. I didn't wake you because you obviously need the rest. I told the girls we were going to have a talk tomorrow about me being here though and go over rules and such."
Okay. That's good.
Once Lindsey fixes whatever she got from the cabinet, I hear the fridge door open and the knock of containers against each other. I hear her shake a bottle and then two loud squirts, my biggest clue to what she's doing. Seconds later, she's carrying two mugs toward me.
"What's this?"
"The fixer of bad dreams," she says with brazen confidence.
She sets one mug down. Then maneuvers the other around so that I can hold it with my uninjured hand. "Hot chocolate? You realize it's like eighty degrees outside, right?"
She laughs softly and ignores my question while picking up her mug and settling in on the couch. I mourn the loss of her nearness and the sight of her bare legs when she tugs a throw blanket over them.
"It is. But chocolate is the magic elixir and the whipped cream? That's the kick in the face to whatever is ailing you. Dani swears by it."
I smile because my baby girl is a chocolate-addict extreme. And whipped cream? She'd throat punch someone for it. "She'll tell you anything to get sweets."
"I thought so too, but—then I tried it. It works. Trust me." She lifts her mug and takes a long sip, licking the cream from her top lip before lowering the mug to her lap. After a second or two passes, and catching the dare in her gaze, I decide to give it a try.
"Have you had a lot of nightmares since…the fire?"
My fingers clench on the handle so hard they hurt, and I pause. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you."
"You didn't. I was already awake."
"Why are you up? Are you sick? What's your nausea scale?"
She shakes her head, a long tendril of hair catching on the damp corner of her lips. "Two. You're not the only one with bad dreams. I guess that makes us a matched set, huh?"
I finally take a drink and pause as I stare into the rich depths. My Dani-girl may be onto something. "What are yours about?"
I hear Lindsey sigh and refocus on her as she shrugs.
"Just…life stuff. Baby, housing, job, moving. You know, nothing major, like also wondering if I'm cut out to be a mom."
Yeah, those things do keep a person awake at night. "If it's any consolation, I wonder sometimes if Dani will grow up and resent me because her mom isn't around more."
"Dani adores you."
"Yeah, well, keeping a roof over your head is no small thing, so cut yourself some slack there. As to you being a mom, you're great with the girls. You're going to be fine."
"Thanks. I think so, too. I just wish I could snap my fingers and get there—wherever there is."
"It won't be easy, but you can do it. Cut yourself some slack. I'm pretty sure I read once where just one of those things you listed is a major life stressor, and you've got all of them going on at once."
"Mmm. Thanks for reminding me," she says dryly.
