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“This is hard. Look at me… I haven’t slept. My hair hasn’t had a proper shampoo in forever. I’ve been wearing the same shirt for the past two weeks because I can’t get to the laundromat. I have no clue what I’m doing.”
“Presley, just calm down. It’s not that bad. Why don’t I get my mom to help you for a few hours? She’s dying to spend time with Masen.”
“Not that bad?” I raise my voice slightly. “I’m a mess… and… I feel like the worst mother in the world. I bet Eloise won’t look like that when you guys have babies. She’ll probably just push that baby out and—”
“Presley…”
I continue to ramble on, ignoring him. “And I bet she has the type of hair that’s silky and smooth all the time like those shampoo commercials where the chick just flicks her hair, and she looks like she just stepped out of the salon.”
“Malone,” he raises his tone.
“What?” I say, exasperated from my rant.
He doesn’t say anything further but nods his head, motioning for me to look at my chest. I look down and through my shirt that my milk has leaked and left two patches. Just fucking great, and here come the waterworks.
“See? I can’t even feed my child, and then this happens,” I cry.
He lays Masen down beside the pillow and covers him with a blanket. Haden moves toward me, and in my pathetic state, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer into him. I don’t care what’s happening right now and continue to cry into his chest. Holding me tight, he gives me time to release my frustrations until my sobs slow down.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead and slowly pushes me away, still keeping our bodies in close range. Cupping my face, he gives me a sympathetic smile before speaking quietly so as not to stir Masen. “You’ve got to learn to ask for help. I’m here, Presley. I’ll always be here when you need me. Just don’t drop bullshit bombs on me like earlier.”
“You’ve got a life, Haden. You can’t stop living it. Like tonight, where were you?”
“It was a stupid party for Eloise’s friend. Trust me, I didn’t want to go.”
His deep stare and bewitching smile only reiterate what I’m terrified of feeling. How could the man standing here in front of me, the father to my son, not be the person I’m supposed to fall in love with? Yet every time we fight, it somehow brings us closer together, and I fall into the trap of thinking I really am in love with him.
How can I be in love with Haden Cooper?
I want to pull away from him, create the distance my heart needs right now, but he moves his hands down my arms until they’re sitting on the base of my shirt. Without saying a word, he grips the hem of my shirt and motions for me to lift my arms. I have no idea what he’s doing, but in my tired state, I let him take my soaked shirt off. I stand there in only my bra as he wraps his arms back around me, kissing my shoulder. As much as I want to stay like this, Masen begins to squirm.
“I think he’s hungry. Why don’t you take your bra off and feed him? I promise I won’t look.”
I laugh softly. “Have you seen them? They’re impossible to hide.”
“How can I not notice them?” He smirks. “But seriously, our son is hungry. I can turn around.”
My bra is wet and uncomfortable, and I know I need to release the milk. I ask him to turn around for a brief moment as I unclasp my bra. It’s a relief to take it off, and I feel the pressure subside immediately. Making myself comfortable on the bed, I move to lay on my side and pull the sheets to cover part of my skin. I pull Masen closer to me, and he latches on with ease, gently sucking away. Haden turns around and lays beside me on the bed. Stroking Masen’s hair, he hums a tune I don’t recognize.
“You’re doing a great job,” he whispers. “You’re a natural even though you don’t see it.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“No first-time mom does.”
“Yeah, but first-time moms have husbands who help them.”
“I told you, I’m here.”
“You won’t be here forever. You’ll be doing the same thing with your wife soon.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
I keep my voice down so as not to sir Masen. “You never want to address it, Haden. If you love her, then marry her. But these moments we have, they need to stop.”
“What if I don’t want them to stop?”
