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Roman has a giant smile on his face while he and the kids work together, but it quickly falls when he looks up and sees the look on my face.
“Luna?” He says as he dries his hands and begins to walk to where I sit.
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I say quickly and fumble to free Poppy from her seat. “I’m going to give this sticky monster a bath.”
I scoop her up and hurry up to the girls bathroom. I look over my shoulders and see Roman standing there with his chest heaving and the corners of his mouth turned down.
when I step into the bathroom, I start filling the tub with warm water and dump some bubbles in. Stripping Poppy out of her pajamas that are glued to her body with syrup is a struggle.
She wiggles and wiggles her way out of her cotton shorts covered in mermaids. Her head pops free from her top and I swing her up in the air and into the tub with a splash.
I watch her play with the few toys I placed in the tub, and work my fingers through her damp hair. I scrub gently and use a cup to carefully pour water over her head and rinse out the suds.
I cherish the moment but my mind starts to wander much like it did downstairs and I sniff as a few tears run down my cheek.
Poppy looks away from her toys and notices.
“Mommy are you sad?” Her little voice is filled with so much concern.
“I’m fine, my little Poppy-seed.”
She splashes as she works to stand up. Her arms and legs are covered in bubbles that drip down her body. She steps to the edge of the tub and wraps her arms around me. She’s warm from the water and soaks my pajama tank. But it’s the best hug ever and I couldn’t care less about my sopping clothes.
“Don’t cwy, mommy. Be happy. ‘K?“ I nod my head against her neck and squeeze tighter. “Want daddy to kiss you and make it awl better?”
This causes me to sob out loud and I feel Poppy’s hands pat my back just like I do when I’m trying to soothe her.
My babies are going to be so crushed when they don’t have this everyday.
How do I do this?
Chapter 6
Luna
On Monday morning, I struggle to make it through our usual routine. I scramble eggs for the twins as they sit on the couch, watching cartoons with sleep remnants still in their eyes
I forget to adjust the setting on the toaster and end up burning the toast.
“Shit,” I mutter, low enough so the kids won’t hear.
“You okay?” The deep rumble of Roman’s voice causes me to jump and I drop the crunchy toast on the floor. “Here. Let me do this.”
He steps to me, dressed in a crisp light blue dress shirt with yellow tie and navy dress pants. His soft, tight curls are perfectly tamed and he’s let the scruff on his jaw fill out over the weekend. He’s so handsome it hurts.
He squats down and picks up the dropped toast and dumps it in the trash can. then he takes a paper towel from the holder, wets it and pats it over the crumbs, collecting every last crumb.
I watch him with absolute amazement. It’s like watching a stranger move about my house and doing it better than I can.
He slaps his hands together to dust off any crumbs sticking to him, and turns to me. He places a gentle hand on my hip and lays a warm kiss on my forehead.
“You make some new toast and I’ll get the twins dressed. Are their clothes laid out?” He asks and I slowly shake my head up and down. “Ok. Be back.”
He walks out of the kitchen and claps his hands, snapping the kids out of their tv induced fog.
“Good morning my little monsters. Upstairs and I’ll help you get dressed while mom finishes your breakfast,” he orders but they don’t move. “C’mon. Up and at ‘em.”
They amble off the couch and trudge up the stairs, Roman following right behind.
