Page 2 of Dream with Me

Shyley glances up at me and raises a questioning eyebrow. “You did, buddy? Was it fun?”

“Yeah. Mama runned after me, and everyone cheered for me.” Chase beams up at his aunt with a wide smile.

“Uh oh,” Shyley says, looking at me.

“Don’t ask,” I answer.

I’m that kind of bone-tired you feel everywhere, and I’m barely holding tears back from falling. My sister and I are Irish twins, her being born just eleven months before me. We’ve always been close, so I know she can see I’m holding it together by a thin thread.

Shyley turns her focus back to Chase and tickles his little belly, eliciting the sweetest giggle from him. “Playing soccer made you dirty, bud. How about I give you your bath tonight?”

“Yes!” Chase cheers. “Shywey do it.” My toddler is looking at me now, excitement obvious on his face.

I try not to take it personally. Bath time is usually a battle for me and Chase. He loves it when Troy gives him his bath, and apparently, now when Shyley offers, too. But when I do it, you’d think I was torturing him.

“Shy, you don’t have to. I can?—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I want to. You can give Chelsea hers, and then if we can get them both to sleep by eight, your night will be smooth sailing from there.” Shyley sounds way more optimistic than I’m feeling.

Forty-five minutes later, by some miracle, my youngest two are asleep, and Oliver and Olivia are tucked into their rooms, reading before lights out at nine p.m.

When I get back downstairs, I find Shyley already in my kitchen, loading my dishwasher.

“Shy, please stop. You don’t need to clean my house.” Embarrassment consumes me. First, she had to pick up my daughter from dance, then she bathed my child, and now she’s cleaning my house. I’m an epic mom and wife failure.

Shyley glances up at me, her eyes filled with compassion. “It’s nothing, Shannon. We all need some help sometimes. I can see it on your face you’re at that point. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

I huff and don’t mean for it to sound so bitchy. “Sure, you have. You’ve got two kids, a clean house, and work as an ICU nurse. Yet you juggle it all without breaking a sweat. Plus, you always look gorgeous. I’m a hot mess, my house is a disaster, and I look like a troll half?—”

“Hey! Cut that out.” She finishes putting soap in the dishwasher and turns it on, then walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. Salty tears fall from my eyes. When Shyley releases me from the hug, she takes a seat at the kitchen table and motions for me to do the same. I don’t have time to sit and talk—there’s still too much to get done tonight—but I don’t have the energy to resist her, so I take a seat. “Don’t talk about my sister like that,” she says gently.

I furrow my brow at her. “What?”

“I said don’t talk about my sister that way. If you don’t have it in you to be nicer to yourself, then I’m here to stand up for you. Even if it’s to remind you not to talk negatively about yourself. You’re clearly forgetting when Rosie was a toddler and Jonathon was born. I was a disaster. With just two kids.”

“Whatever, that’s not true.” I swipe at my eyes and reach across the table for a napkin, then blow my nose. My tears are now free-flowing.

“Oh, so you don’t remember that time I hadn’t showered for three days, and you had to come and practically manhandle me into the bathroom to perform basic hygiene while you watched my kids for me? Or when you ran out to the store and got me diapers at eleven p.m. when Lincoln was at the fire station, and thismom of the yeardidn’t realize I had no diapers left for my baby until I used the last one?”

I chuckle, able to smile a little at the memory. That seems so long ago. “But you were only like that for a little while, Shyley. Now look at you. You’re a wonderful mom, and your house looks great. I’m a part-time bookkeeper, and you’ve got this amazing career?—”

Shyley slams her hand down on the table. My older sister is a bit of a hothead when she’s protecting someone she loves. Right now, I suspect she’s trying to protect me from myself.

“You have twice as many kids as I do, Shannon. Sure, my house is usually clean, but that’s because my kids are older, and I’m not doing it all, like you. I work one of those twelve-hour shifts each week solely so I can pay someone to clean my house and get regular massages and mani-pedis. So, don’t think I’m some superwoman. It took me a while to figure out this is what I needed for self-care and to speak to Lincoln about it.”

Frustration seeps back in at the mention of her husband. Troy would actually have tolistenfor me to talk to him about anything...

“I’m just having one of those days,” I tell her, and as I swipe at the streams of tears that keep coming, I don’t tell her I’ve had more bad days than good lately. “It’s like there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done, and I’ve felt like crap about myself lately. I can’t shake the extra twenty pounds I’m still carrying since I gave birth to Chase and?—”

“Shannon, you have to stop tearing yourself down. Look at me.” Shyley grabs my hand, and I force my gaze up from the table to meet hers. “You are gorgeous. You’re an amazing mom and wife. Plus, you’re the smartest person I know.”

I roll my eyes at her, deflecting to hide the fact I am afraid. I’m afraid she’s wrong. Maybe I used to be all of those things, but I’m pretty sure I’m not anymore.

CHAPTER2

SHANNON

I glance at my watch for the hundredth time in the last half hour. Troy should have been home by now. His twenty-four-hour shift ended an hour and a half ago. I push down my annoyance and the intruding thoughts that he’s probably having a leisurely cup of coffee with some of the guys before heading home. He’s doing that, and I’m sitting on our living room floor in my yoga gear, holding Chase.

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