Twelve-hour shifts are hard. You are gone the entire day, and even when you clock out, your day isn’t done if you’re a parent. That’s not the worst part though, it’s only getting a couple hours a day with your tiny human. Being a working mom is a never-ending game of balance.
“We can do that. Aspen, you might want to start thinking of what you’ll want when it’s your turn. You’re already almost halfway there.”
“Of all the things I need to prepare for when it comes to this child, my wishlist of crockpot meals is not one of them. I want teriyaki chicken, beef stew, and chicken mac and cheese. On the flipside of knowing things, if you want to see me look like a deer in the headlights, ask what breast pump is best.”
My mom’s whole body shakes with laughter. “You’re not supposed to have it all figured out, honey. There’s a lot of trial and error. You learn as you go.”
“That explains why Weston turned out the way he did,” I joke. Her advice does help the new mom nerves.
My mom and the girls bust out in laughter, Willow nodding in agreement.
The best part about this whole thing will be all the ladies in this room. My best friend will have recently gone through it, and I have the best mom ever. It may feel like I’m walking in the dark, but they’ll be my flashlights.
Chapter 23
Rhett
Icould disassemble a bomb easier than I could assemble this damn changing table. The instructions are clear as mud.
“I think this screw was supposed to go on the other piece,” Aspen says from the floor. She’s wearing an old T-shirt of mine I must have left over here. It’s no longer long enough to go to her knees, it stops mid-thigh now that the bump is taking up more room.
“It cannot be this hard. I’ve built entire buildings; I can figure it out.”
I study the diaphragm, trying to figure out where I went wrong and why it doesn’t seem level.
“Yeah, it totally looks like you’ve got this handled. As long as you don’t mind the changing table doubling as a slide.” She crosses her arms and looks at me with a bit too much glee. “Glad you finally opened the instructions though.”
I half-scoff, half-chuckle at her dig. Within a minute of looking at the directions, I realize where I went wrong. Well, there’s about four mistakes, and I have to start over.
“I think I need to try again,” I say, grabbing my drill and pulling out the screws.
“That’s the second best choice you’ve made today,” she says, leaning down to give me a hearty pat on the shoulder.
“Dare I ask the first?” Not really sure my ego can take her answer.
“Basically saying that I was right when you gave in and opened up the directions pamphlet. I love being right.”
It takes me a good hour to disassemble and reassemble, but once I figured out that those numbered pieces were actually important and had a specific place, it went quite a bit easier.
We stare at the changing table in the spare bedroom of her house, and I can’t help but wish we had our own place. Wish we were doing this together.
Her arm comes around my waist, and I throw my arm over her shoulder as she says, “Well, at least that’s done. Thanks for helping.” “I’ll always be here for whatever you need.”
She turns into me, the bump getting in the way, but if she wants a hug, I can do that. I’ve craved this closeness to her, afraid to initiate and give in to her when I know she deserves better. “I know.” Her tone is different this time. Determined almost. She pulls back, her arm sliding up my back until it reaches the back of my hair.
My eyes close without my permission, like my body wants to sink into her touch. The tether between us taut, begging for a break. “Aspen,” I say as a warning.
“It’s okay, Rhett, I know.” She gets up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. And I do the dumbest thing I can think of. I turn my head. Giving in to that nagging feeling in the back of my mind that this is right. She is right. We are right.
Her lips touch mine, and for a second, it’s bliss. It’s a quiet moment in a world full of noise. It’s everything I need, but nothing I can have.
Using every bit of self-control I possess, I pull back, just slightly. “You know why I can’t let myself do this to you,” I say, hating this damn looming sense of doom keeping me from her.
Tears fill her eyes and I hate myself even more. “Actually, I don’t know, Rhett. Do you seriously think I am so shallow that I couldn’t care for you and not grow resentful? That I couldn’t feel happy with you simply because you are ill?” Her tears are full-on sobs now. “Is it really even that, Rhett? Or do you not want me? Am I not enough?”
The crack in her voice acts like a shard of glass to my heart. It shreds it to a million pieces knowing I’m hurting her. That I am making her feel less than when, in reality, she is my whole world, moon and stars. The only reason I even give a shit to keep trying. To seek answers for the small hope that maybe I can love her for a lifetime.
“You seriously think I don’t want you? Aspen, I want you so fucking bad. I see you every night in my dreams; you haunt me. The desire to be with you is so great, I cannot escape it. You invade every thought and dream of mine. I want you more than I want to live. But what I want cannot be more important than what you deserve.” That’s always been what this has been about. Her. She can find someone whose body will work until their lungs give out with old age.
