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“Goodnight.”
Thirty-Five
The next morning, I woke up from my place on the couch to the sounds of Mish and Elle talking. I met them in the kitchen and stole Elle’s coffee, knowing hers would be far less sweet than Mish’s. “Hey, brute. Get your own coffee. I have an impossible task to attempt today.”
“It’s already done. I haven’t seen or heard from her yet this morning, but her hair is going to be one hell of a project.”
“Her hair? All of her is a project.”
“I got her to shower last night. She ate something, and I put her meds in the coffee that she drank. What I didn’t manage to do was convince her to get dressed or to brush out her wet hair. So, she’s probably in bed in her wet towel.”
“How the fuck did you manage that?” Mish asked, eyes wide.
“I told her I wasn’t leaving her alone until she did those things. She held up her end of the deal, and I haven’t seen her since. So, you see, I earned this.”
Elle looked impressed, yet skeptical.
“I’ll be back later. I’ve got practice. Oh, I also promised her she could see Wyatt today. So, make that happen,” I added the last part as I walked out the door, letting Mason be their problem. It was probably a shit move considering Mason and Elle were still in that awkward post-divorce phase, but I had done enough for one day.
I returned that evening as Wyatt and Mason were leaving. I gave Wyatt a high-five and nodded my chin in Mason’s direction. There was no reason for me to give this dude the cold shoulder. In fact, he had been really quick to make sure Wyatt was taken care of without anyone else having to figure out the logistics.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t feeling particularly warm and fuzzy toward him, and I also wasn’t trying to pretend otherwise.
Today I came armed with the ingredients for her favorite smoothie, not entirely sure I’d get her to eat two days in a row, but hoping I could get her to drink some nutrients.
I set the bag on the counter and peeked into her room. She was completely under the blankets, and I could hear her crying. Everything about this screamed she wanted to be alone, but I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into the bed, “C’mere,” I said softly, easing her into my arms.
She cried into my chest for a few minutes before choking out, “He’s taking him to D.C.” I was a little confused because this was not the first time Mason had taken Wyatt with him back to D.C. “He’s taking my baby away. I need my baby, and he’s taking him,” she sobbed.
“Sshh,” I soothed, running my hand over her hair. “It’s not forever. He’ll be back. You’ll talk to him every day, just like now.” Those were the wrong words, clearly, because the intensity of her sobs increased substantially. I felt helpless, just sitting there holding her as she broke down. “What can I do? How do I make this better?”
I didn’t think she’d hear my mumbled hypothetical questions over her crying, but she looked up at me with her red, puffy eyes and said, “I just want my life back.”
“I know, Kate, I know. I wish I could give it to you.”
The tears fell down her cheeks as she leaned back against my chest. After a few more minutes of tears, she calmed herself down. “Did you bring me coffee, drummer boy?”
“No. But I did bring you smoothie ingredients.”
She grimaced. “You always fuck it up.”
“You’re welcome. Would you like to make your own smoothie, Your Highness?”
She looked up at me as if shocked I’d ask such a question. I understood the look to mean ‘hell no,’ but she shimmied her way out of the bed and to the kitchen with me on her heels.
Cee pulled the items out of the bag and placed them on the counter before retrieving a blender from a cabinet. She prepared the smoothie and grabbed a glass to pour it into. My plan had been to drop her antidepressants into it like I had done the night before with her coffee, but at least she was up and about. This was the most she’d done in over a week.
As I expected, she turned and headed back to her room. I hung back, assuming she didn’t intend to invite me along. “You coming with me? You can bring the meds that I didn’t let you sneak into my drink.”
I grabbed the bottle of pills from the cabinet and met her in the room. “You know, if you didn’t refuse to take them, I wouldn’t have had to sneak them into your drink.” I passed her the bottle.
“Just shut up and pick a show to watch.”
“Don’t you think we’d be better off in neutral territory?” I looked at her bed uncomfortably.
“I own the whole house, drummer boy.”
“You know what I mean, bestie.”
