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“No, it’s fine. I need to go get a bandage.” And with that, he stormed out of the kitchen, mumbling something that sounded like, “Things never go as planned.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, even though he was being a bit of an ass. Rhett and I were different in that regard. I could just go with the flow when it came to small hiccups or changes in plans, but Rhett was the complete opposite.
I cleaned up the floor and knife, cut off and discarded the section of bread that had blood on it, and continued to cut the loaf into slices. I walked over and handed a piece of bread to Brendan before he could climb down and run back outside.
“Am I just doing a bowl of spaghetti for B?” Rhett asked as he reentered the kitchen.
“Yeah, that should be fine. Messy, but fine. I can clean him up afterward.”
“Sorry. Didn’t realize he would be here tonight.” Rhett leaned against the island, arms crossed. “Should I just make him something else?”
His moods were giving me whiplash, and I had the urge to roll my eyes, but instead I just smiled. “No. Spaghetti is good.”
Dinner started out fine, but by the end, I could tell Rhett was annoyed with Brendan, or maybe both of us. In retrospect, I should have had Rhett make Brendan something other than spaghetti. I spent most of the meal trying to get Brendan to keep the spaghetti in the bowl, or on the fork and into his mouth. Each time, Rhett’s jaw got tighter, and when more spaghetti ended up on the floor and table than in Brendan’s belly, I swear I wondered how Rhett didn’t crack a tooth. He didn’t usually get upset about small messes, but today, it was like each noodle that fell to the floor could have been the straw that broke his back.
“So, I was thinking,” Rhett started.
“Hold that thought. Let me go grab a pack of baby wipes to clean him up.”
When I returned to the table, Rhett grabbed the wipes from me.
“Finish your food. It’s probably cold now since you’ve been messing with B the whole time. I’ll clean him up. You eat.”
My eyes narrowed at the sharp tone in his voice. Sighing, I picked up my fork and took a few more bites. Rhett was right; it was cold. I felt a little guilty that he’d worked hard on one of my favorite meals and I didn’t even get to enjoy it.
“Weren’t you saying something before I left to get the baby wipes?” I asked, before bringing the fork to my mouth again.
“Yeah, I—”
“Bread, bread, bread!” Brendan demanded, pointing to the basket at the end of the table. I grabbed a few pieces and placed them in front of him.
“Never mind, just forget it. We can talk later.” Rhett’s jaw clenched tight as he got up to clear the plates from the table. “Why don’t you go get him cleaned up? I’ll take care of this mess.”
“Fine,” I mumbled and took Brendan in to get him bathed and ready for bed. I decided once he was down we could talk, and Rhett could tell me what had been weighing on his mind.
I bit down on my bottom lip when I stepped back into the kitchen. Rhett was standing over the sink, hands gripped on the counter and head bowed. My stomach flipped when it hit me that something was seriously wrong, and he was struggling to keep his composure.
“What’s going on with you?”
“What?” he said as he turned to face me.
“Something’s been bothering you for the better part of a week, and now tonight you seem annoyed. So, what’s your deal? You said you wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”
“Sorry, but yeah, I guess I am annoyed. I had planned for us to have a nice quiet night together, just you and me, so we could talk. I’m just frustrated the night didn’t go as planned.”
I blew out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, me too.”
Before either of us could say anything else, Brendan’s cries for me resonated through the kitchen.
“Jesus Christ. This is ridiculous. We can’t even have fifteen minutes without him becoming an interruption.” Rhett slapped his palm against the counter.
“W-what?” My stomach dropped. He didn’t just say that. He didn’t mean that.
“Yes, Bella.Wejust need five fucking minutes withouthimbeing an interruption.”
We need time without him. That’s what Rhett really meant. He liked the idea of me and him, but not Brendan as well. Not all the time. He wasn’t ready for this. Until now, that idea had been a lingering itch in my mind, but hearing it was a knife to my heart. My child was not simply an interruption.
“So, he’s an interruption now?” The words flew fiercely out of my mouth.
