Page 32 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
THIRTEEN
Maddie
FATHER RECONFIGURED
I wouldn’t say that Declan is perfect, but I never wanted him to change either, even when he was at peak exasperating mode, back when he was my boss. But something seems to have shifted in him this week, and not in a bad way. He might be all up in his feels because his first Father’s Day is coming up tomorrow. Maybe it’s the result of a week-long hangover. Or maybe not getting any has made him just a little bit humble.
I’m not interested in extending his period of not getting any, but whatever it is that’s making him feel this way, I like it.
Ciara was fast asleep when we got home, but as soon as Nolan was out the door, she woke up and started crying. I went in to say hi and pick her up. She settled down, but now she’s fussing again. Declan is insisting he’ll take care of her in a minute, after he shows me something. He leads me to the spare bedrooms, or the Bedrooms of Despair, as I’ve come to think of them, and I blink and rub my eyes when he turns on the lights for me.
No more cardboard boxes.
Not even empty boxes.
Or folded-up boxes.
Declan no longer has the posture of a defeated man as he steps into the center of the room and spreads his arms out. He is beaming. His dimple is on full display. I almost want to ask if Nolan did this, but he looks so proud of himself, I don’t have to ask.
“I did it, babe,” he says. He holds up his phone. “I took pictures of where I put everything, and you can decide if you want to rearrange things. All the photos are in a folder on a flash drive. I broke down the boxes—all forty-seven of them—and had the doorman get rid of them for us.”
“You did all this while I was at Aunt Mel’s?”
“Started right after you left. Good thing it takes so much longer to get to Staten Island from here.”
“Yeah. Good thing.” He even vacuumed. Before I can ask him if he found my favorite scented candles and other bath-time furnishings, he takes my hand and leads me to the master bathroom.
“Ignore that pile of stuff in the den,” he says, shielding my view of a corner of the den with his hand.
He opens the door to the master bathroom, and even before I step inside, I tear up because I recognize the fragrance of my favorite candles. The sage and sea salt mixed with tea and cedarwood. He must have lit them when I was in Ciara’s room. The bathtub is filled with hot water. He has placed the container of my favorite bath salts on the counter, next to a new orchid arrangement. Did he have them delivered while I was out? He must have. I definitely would have noticed a bouquet that looks almost exactly like the one I held at our wedding. My teak bathtub tray rests across the tub, and on it sits a glass of red wine, a mug of tea, and my bath-time paperbacks.
“Dec. I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, that’s a first. I’ll give you some time to figure it out. Your iPad is on the counter if you want that. The Bluetooth speaker is there too if you want to listen to music on your phone. I’ll go take care of the baby, and we’ll meet back in bed when you’re done soaking in my love and awesomeness.” I grab him before he turns to leave, holding him tight and pressing my cheek against his chest. Somehow he doesn’t smell like a man who just got off a crowded boat that he didn’t get off on. He smells like he always does—antique leather sofa sex after eating campfire s’mores. “Hope you don’t mind that I didn’t consult with you about all this first,” he teases.
Okay, so he’s still pretty cocky.
I’m glad.
“It’s Father’s Day Eve,” I say. “I should be doing this for you.”
“I wouldn’t be a father if it weren’t for you, Cooper.” He kisses the crown of my head. “Relax. Take as long as you want. Think about that time we probably made Ciara.” He pulls away from me and winks.
Damn.
We agreed we’d wait until Ciara’s two years old before we make our second child. But I’m feeling that urge to procreate with him again. It’s just like him to cause me to question my own logic.
“See you in bed?” He grins.
“See you in bed.”
I feel a rush of cool air when he closes the door behind himself as he leaves me alone in this steamy, fragrant, candlelit room.
* * *
When I emerge from the bathroom in my plush terry-cloth robe, my hair up in a damp, messy bun, my cheeks flushed from the hot water and from memories of that time we probably made Ciara…I find my husband asleep in bed. His iPad case rests on his chest, and I can hear Daniel Day-Lewis talking about drilling for oil. He’s been on a Daniel Day-Lewis kick lately. I can’t believe he fell asleep duringThere Will Be Blood. He must be exhausted. He loves that movie because he watched it for the first time with his dad and that led them to talk about raising sons. He said it was one of the top three conversations he ever had with his father. I wonder if he’s thinking about having a son now.
I pause the film, turn off the iPad, and close the case.
Declan surprises me by reaching for my leg. His hand slides up under my bathrobe and squeezes my thigh. His eyes remain closed. He strokes my warm, bare skin for about two seconds before going limp and then turning over and burying his face into his pillow.
He was trying to seduce me in his sleep again.
I pull the covers up over his shoulders and kiss the back of his head.
I’m gonna celebrate that man so hard tomorrow and give him the Father’s Day he deserves. If all goes as planned. Parenthood in general and this week in particular has taught us that things do not always go as planned. But it also teaches us how important it is not to lose hope. And I’ve known for three and a half years now how important it is to not lose Declan.
