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I pay for my groceries and go back to the hotel. When I open the door, I stop short. I can see Wren, asleep on one edge of the bed. The baby is asleep on her chest, Roxy is pressed against her side, and the other two are facing the foot of the bed, sound asleep.
I put the groceries down and go to the bedroom. Wren blinks her eyes open.
“What happened here?” I ask quietly, motioning to the kids.
She shushes me. “Don’t wake them. If you do, they’ll start complaining.”
“Did they eat?”
“I fed them the last of the sandwiches your mom made, and they went right to sleep.”
“I got you ice cream,” I whisper.
“Can you free me from the mountain of children so I can enjoy it?”
One by one, I take the kids and move them to their sleeping spots. Wren doesn’t move.
I go and get her ice cream and a spoon, and take the top off the container. She takes it from me with a gleeful whimper. “You want some?”
I catch her eyes with mine. “I sure do.” I waggle my brows at her.
She grins. “Can I finish my ice cream first?”
I scrub my hand across the top of her head as I go to the bathroom to take a shower. I’ve been cooped up in the car all day and I feel grimy.
When I come out, the empty ice cream container is on the bedside table, and she’s sound asleep, sprawled across the center of the bed.
I pull the covers out from under her and slide beneath them. She immediately rolls toward me and tucks her head beneath my chin. “This okay?” she asks on a yawn.
Oh yes. It’s everything. Every fucking thing.
Wren
The sun is coming over the horizon when I hear the hushed whispers of children who are trying to be quiet in the other room. I blindly reach toward the other side of the bed where Mick was, but the sheets are cold and he’s gone. I get up, go brush my teeth and hair, and then I tiptoe toward the living room. Mick is holding Chase in his arms, giving him a bottle, and Roxy is next to him on the couch leaning on his arm, her chubby little thumb stuck between her lips. She’s watching TV as she dozes. Anna and Devon are at the tiny little kitchen table eating cereal.
“Good morning,” I say to them as I walk by.
They mutter something unintelligible in return.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say to Mick as I walk past him, heading for the tiny little coffee pot that’s in the makeshift kitchen.
“I think it’s still night,” he says, his voice scratchy and deep.
I part the blinds while my coffee perks. “No, the sun’s coming up.”
“And here I was hoping I could put them all back to bed. Dreams crushed. Thanks,” he says drolly.
“I didn’t hear a thing last night. Did they all sleep?
“Chase got up once.” He scrubs a hand down his face, trying to wake up.
“That’s not too bad.” I take my coffee mug and put it on the coffee table in front of where he’s sitting.
“Could have been worse, I guess.”
I pick Roxy up and sit down with her in my lap. I lean against Mick’s arm. I’d like to think it’s just because it’s there, but it’s not. It’s because he’s big and warm and strong, and he makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. I rub my face against his upper arm.
He looks down at me, his gaze warm and caring. “Come a little closer,” he says. “You feel nice.”
