Page 54 of Wylder Ranch
“It happens all the time.” Clementine giggles, but in the compulsory hushed tone that one does in a spa, even though we have the place to ourselves. “Once I was with one of my girlfriends on holiday in the South of France, and she snored through the whole thing. I could hear her in the next room. It was like a pneumatic drill.”
“Okay, I wasn’t that bad.”
Our laughter bounces off the tiled walls, evidence in surround sound that I’m relaxed. Happy. Freer even, but I know it has nothing to do with this spa.
“Falling asleep is a compliment.” Holiday yawns, pushing her lavender-soaked eye mask up, as she stretches out her body the full length of the lounger. “It means they’ve done their job in relaxing you.”
Easing up on my elbows, it’s hard not to stare, because this is a woman I’ve only ever seen on the screen, or on billboards and magazines, and she’s every bit as perfect in person. Long, toned limbs, perfect smooth skin. I’m very conscious of the fact that my wearing a bathing suit is the most naked I’ve been in front of a person since the last time I had sex—and had a baby—and I probably wouldn’t have chosen one of the world’s most beautiful actresses todo it in front of. Or Clemmie, who’d look good in a trash bag.
Fortunately, I’m too relaxed to care. Even the mom guilt I felt at leaving Everly has reduced itself to around 25 percent. And I can live with 25 percent.
I’ve decided I’m not a mom today, I’m not a slave to a tiny little love terrorist.
I’m just Haven, and I’m enjoying myself.
We’re three hours into our treatments, where we’ve already been scrubbed and massaged to within an inch of our lives, followed by a facial that left me with skin as soft as Everly’s. And after our massages, we were sent to the pool area—built like an ancient temple—where glasses of cucumber water were laid out for us.
It’s so fricking tranquil it’s no wonder I fell asleep. I can barely keep my eyes open now.
“That’s a very good point, Hol.”
“Thank you.” Holiday’s lips twitch with amusement. “I have been known to make them sometimes.”
My smile stretches wider. I’m going to need my cheeks massaged. Aside from falling asleep on the table, I’ve had a smile on my face since yesterday afternoon, when Alex told me about my surprise, and I got over my initial trepidation about spending time away from Everly.
“How d’you think Alex is coping?” asks Clementine.
The dial on the mom guilt creeps up to 30 percent, because I haven’t thought about them in terms of coping or worrying if they’re getting along okay, but maybe I should have. I’ve only been thinking about Alex and the way he looks at her, the way he’s taken to being a father in two short weeks.
How he’s stepped up to the plate quicker and moreadeptly than I ever expected him to.
Better than I did at becoming a mom, that’s for sure.
I knew they’d be okay together. And Alex wouldn’t be coping, he’d be excelling.
I’m the one who copes.
Things that took me weeks to figure out, Alex has managed in mere hours. Like the way to hold Everly so she takes her bottle without throwing it up afterward, or changing her diaper without her screaming the house down, or how to get her into her crib without waking her up.
The ugly truth is that Alex is a better parent in two weeks than I’ve been in two months. But on the flip side, my confidence continues to grow, and that’s because of him. Now that I have him helping, I’m less of a frazzled mess, and my brain fog is lifting.
“Awesome, no doubt. But he said he was going to call your brothers.”
“They’re going to the pub for lunch.” Holiday scooches off her lounger and perches on the edge of the pool closest to us. There are five in total, all of different temperatures. I dipped my toe in the smallest one, which happened to be freezing cold, and decided to seek refuge on the cozy lounger. “All the boys, Max and Everly.”
“That’s going to be chaos.”
Clemmie raises her glass of cucumber water. “As long as we don’t have to clean up the mess, they can make as much of it as they want.”
“Amen.”
“This was such a good idea of his.”
I sit up, as abruptly as I’m able in my relaxed state, and shoot her a bemused look. “This was Alex’s idea?”
Clementine nods. “Yes, he asked me to bring you here because, and I quote, ‘she’s a new mum. It’s incredibly stressful.’ Actuallybeggedme is more accurate.”
“Huh.” I lay back on the lounger. “I thought you were inviting me.”
