So my life was currently all about babies, caring for babies at work, and being the secondary caregiver to baby Ivy at home.
Whit was enduring the chaos of her new-mom-of-an-infant schedule, so as often as I could I took care of Ivy so Whit could catch a nap or go grocery shopping.
When we were out, Ivy was the kind of baby strangers couldn’t help but notice—always smiling and happy.
At the store once, an older woman stopped me, asking, “Is she yours?”
“She’s my niece,” I smiled back.
I did all of our laundry to give Whit a break and let her work on her graphic designs. She didn’t have many clients yet, so her time was split between creating existing designs and seeking out new opportunities, as well as navigating the wilds of social media promotion. I didn’t know much about the industry, but I let her use me as a sounding board anytime she wanted to talk things through out loud. I also offered up some of my old sorority connections to get the ball rolling and drum up new business.
Ivy was four months old now and starting to roll over. I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d grown. Other than a general hatred of sleep, she was a happy-go-lucky baby. I hadn’t kept up my gym membership, so instead I’d lace up my most supportive sneakers and strap her in the baby carrier or the stroller and take her for walks around our neighborhood. Maple always trotted along beside us.
I swore Maple preened proudly in her new bright red service vest, and whenever Ivy would cry, Maple would come over and nudge Whit or me until we got up and tended to the baby.
One day Whit caught my eye when I was holding Ivy. “It’s not too much for you, is it?”
I gave her a questioning look.
“Ivy. Both of us, being here.”
“Whit—no. I love Ivy. She’s perfect. She feels like she’s a little bit mine, too.”
“That’s because she is.” Whit nodded. “You know I’m the first to believe that family goes beyond DNA. But you don’t ever wish?—?”
I shook my head. “Things are great, Whit. I love having you and Ivy here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Promise.”
She wrapped me in a hug, the rest of the words left unsaid.
I made an appointment with Cheryl,updating her on the changes in my life, which were pretty much all positive, other than missing Cade and hating our time apart.
Even with only a three-hour drive separating us, Cade and I struggled to find times to meet up. He also didn’t want me driving back to Boston late after dinner, especially knowing how tired I tended to get in the evenings. He was always hyper-aware of my condition like that, and his attentiveness to it warmed my heart.
The distance was frustrating, but we spent every night possible on the phone, and kept up our never-ending text thread, so it never felt like we were truly out of touch. Every day I missed his smell and his touch, though, and I couldn’t ignore that our time was counting down before he’d have to leave New England.
Despite Cade’s protests that it would be too much for me, one Wednesday night we met up at a pub in New Hampshire, roughly equidistant between Boston and Birch Hollow. The puboffered a variety of comfort foods like hearty pastas, chicken pot-pies, and brick-oven pizza. It was a slow midweek night, so we were the only customers.
The restaurant had wood floors and deep red walls. String lights hung from the rafters, giving the place a festive look despite its desolation. The waitress asked if we wanted beers, and we both declined. I ordered the chicken pot-pie, and Cade ordered a maple bacon club sandwich and fries. We ate and joked and laughed, our feet tangling under the table.
After dinner we walked out hand in hand to the nearly-deserted parking lot, which only had the employees’ cars besides our own. I sighed, feeling full and sleepy.
Cade brought his forehead to mine, his eyes boring into me. “Call me and stay on the phone the whole drive back,” he pleaded, holding both my hands in his. “I can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel.”
I nodded, knowing this night would cause me extra exhaustion for the rest of the week, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. We were in that honeymoon stage where a little missed rest just didn’t seem to matter, our hormones and emotions carrying us through the tiredness.
He pulled me towards his car and wrapped me in a firm hug, enveloping me in his woodsy scent. His nose rubbed through my hair.
“Peaches,” he sighed in contentment.
His lips met mine, gentle at first, then building in intensity. His tongue found mine and his movements roughened, his breathing becoming labored. Cade grabbed my hips, lifting me up onto the hood of his car. I let out a muted squeal. He placed his hands on either side of my hips, caging me in like he loved to do, a predator chasing his prey. I met his advances with equal fervor, deepening our kisses until I reached a point of desperation.
“Don’t stop,” I panted, “I think I’m going to?—”
“Yes, baby,” he encouraged. His usually-bright eyes looked inky dark in the dim parking lot light. The heel of his hand met the front of my jeans and he rubbed firmly as we resumed our kiss. My legs shook from the friction, and I cried out, exploding.
Cade leaned his head against mine as I caught my breath.
“What about you?” I asked.
