Page 50 of Sweet Escape
I drop my hands and sink onto one of the kitchen chairs. “I have ADHD. It’s probably something you should know. With my luck, our kid will have it, too.”
He crouches before me, placing his hands on my knees. “How can I help you?”
“You can’t help me. It’s just something I have to live with.” I shrug. “Some days are better than others.”
“I get that, honey. I just mean, what can I do right now in this moment to make you feel better? Can I clean up? Would that be okay?”
“You’d do that for me? It’s not even your mess.”
“No, but you’re struggling, and I want to help. Will you let me?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing along my jaw. “Please.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I nod. This gentle side of the broody cowboy is unexpected, and everything I didn’t know I needed. “Sorry. Hormones.” I stand, intending to help with the mess.
“Sit down, Liv. I’ve got this.”
“But—”
“Sit. I’m going downstairs to get you some breakfast because I’m certain you haven’t eaten recently, and when I get back, you better be on that couch waiting for me. Got it?” His commanding tone brooks no argument, and just like that, all traces of the gentle cowboy have vanished.
Wilder’s footsteps carry down the stairs. I head off into the living room as instructed, though I’m tempted to see what happens when I don’t cater to his every whim. It could be fun to rile him up.
When he returns a short while later, he places a tray across my lap with a BLT and french fries, then hands me a bottle of water. He takes a seat on the coffee table across from me like he’s prepared to watch me eat every last morsel. I take the first bite of the sandwich, savoring the fatty, tangy flavors.
He’s right, of course. I can’t remember the last time I ate, and now I feel guilty because I’m not taking care of myself, which means I’m not taking care of my baby. I wish I could call my mom. She’d know exactly what to say.
“Where did that beautiful mind of yours just trail off to?”
“What do you mean?”
“You frowned. What’s wrong?”
With a resigned sigh, I murmur, “The baby’s not even here yet, and I’m already failing.”
“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Olivia Sullivan. Do you ever just let yourself be imperfect? Do you think every parent has it together all the time? I sure as fuck don’t. So, you left a mess in the kitchen, and you forgot to eat… so what?”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I want you to promise me something, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “If you’reeverstruggling like that again, call me.”
I nod, knowing I have no intention of bringing him into the mess that is my life. We might have to co-parent, but he doesn’t have to deal with my scatterbrained nature.
“Promise me,” he says again, more forcefully this time.
“Okay. I promise.”
“Good girl. Now finish your lunch while I clean up.”
“Wilder, I?—”
He spears me with a warning glare, eliciting a small smile for the first time since he walked into the apartment, and I change course.
“Thank you.”
Wilder
The fear that consumed me when I couldn’t get a hold of Liv still lingers beneath the surface, but I manage to tamp it down enough to take care of her. Now, as I stand in the disaster area that is her kitchen, some of that fear threatens to resurface. I don’t know how I’m going to live like this, with her so far away from me, and me knowing I won't get to her in time if something happens.
Breathing in a steadying breath, I drain the sink of the cool water that’s been sitting there for fuck knows how long and start on the dishes. I want to ask her to move to the ranch so I can take care of her like this every day. It’s not a hardship, and I know she needs the support, but it’s way too soon to be talking about living arrangements. We only just reconnected. I tuck the idea to the back of my mind to revisit at a later date, refocusing on the task at hand.
