when I realize that it is not my baby. Tyler is crying—loud and hungry. Where the hell is Jackson?
Storming back into the bedroom, I crawl back into the bed and haul off and kick him.
“What the fuck, Andi?” he growls, but he immediately bolts out of the bed once he realizes his baby is crying.
The crying won’t stop.
It just goes on and on. It gets louder and louder, taunting me with every passing moment.
“Make him stop,” I groan into the pillows as I try to wrap one around my head to muffle the noise.
But he doesn’t make him stop. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was in there pinching the poor thing. Jesus, didn’t he read the damn books like I did? The kid is hungry.
I hear all sorts of racket in the kitchen, and thankfully, moments later, the crying stops.
The pain in my head stops.
However, in the silence, the throb in my heart begins again.
I miss you, Thomas.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but soon, I feel the bed sink down as my husband climbs back in. I want him to hold me. I want him to tell me that everything will be okay. Instead, I lie with my back to him.
“Andi, you need to hold him.” He’s not asking anymore. He’s telling.
Fuck him. “No.”
“It’s not up for debate, babe. He’s your son now whether you like it or not.”
I sit up so fast that the room spins. Jackson turned on a lamp and looks breathtakingly beautiful in nothing but his boxers while holding the swaddled baby against his bare chest. This is a vision I dreamed about for years.
Years.
And now?
Now, it’s all fucking wrong.
“I’m sleeping on the couch,” I murmur as I climb out of bed.
His jaw clenches so tight that I’m afraid it’ll break in half. I can see the anger lying under the surface. The words he wants to say to me sit right on the tip of his tongue. So I challenge him with a glare, but he backs down.
“I’ll stay here with our baby. Tell Mommy goodnight,” he says sarcastically.
His words crush my soul, and I hobble out of the room as if they physically harmed me.
I.
Can’t.
Do.
This.
Two days. For two days, I’ve allowed her to ignore me and Tyler. But I’ve had fucking enough. Tomorrow is Thomas’s funeral, which has really sent my wife off the deep end. She’s been very active around the house while planning for it. Even though she’s supposed to be resting, I’ve watched her clean every inch of our home—except for the nursery—just to avoid us. When people come to visit, she locks herself in the bathroom.
She’s exhausting the hell out of me. I don’t know what to do. Mom thinks I should just leave her alone with Tyler. I think that’s the worst goddamned idea I’ve ever heard. Andi is too unstable, and even though I know she would never hurt a soul, in this dark state of hers, I don’t know that she wouldn’t neglect him.
The thought of her neglecting sweet Tyler kills me.
God, I just want her back.
A knock on the door startles me out of my daydreaming. It’s after eight in the evening, so I’m not sure who could possibly be here. Andi already went to bed, and Tyler is asleep in his crib. I’ve just been staring at the damn wall, trying to figure out how to wake my wife up from her mind.
After getting out of my chair, I walk to the front door. When I open it, I’m surprised to find Bray of all people standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“How is she?”
I roll my eyes. “Same.”
“Can I come in?”
“She won’t talk to you,” I mutter.
He frowns but comes inside. “Can I try?”
At this point, I’ll try anything. “Knock your socks off.”
With my permission, he strides down the hallway and into our bedroom. When he closes the door behind him, jealousy surges in my chest. Bray loves Olive more than life itself, but just the fact that he’s Andi’s ex and now in the bedroom I share with her rubs me raw.
I’m desperate though.
If he can reach her, I hope to hell he can knock some sense into
Storming back into the bedroom, I crawl back into the bed and haul off and kick him.
“What the fuck, Andi?” he growls, but he immediately bolts out of the bed once he realizes his baby is crying.
The crying won’t stop.
It just goes on and on. It gets louder and louder, taunting me with every passing moment.
“Make him stop,” I groan into the pillows as I try to wrap one around my head to muffle the noise.
But he doesn’t make him stop. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was in there pinching the poor thing. Jesus, didn’t he read the damn books like I did? The kid is hungry.
I hear all sorts of racket in the kitchen, and thankfully, moments later, the crying stops.
The pain in my head stops.
However, in the silence, the throb in my heart begins again.
I miss you, Thomas.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but soon, I feel the bed sink down as my husband climbs back in. I want him to hold me. I want him to tell me that everything will be okay. Instead, I lie with my back to him.
“Andi, you need to hold him.” He’s not asking anymore. He’s telling.
Fuck him. “No.”
“It’s not up for debate, babe. He’s your son now whether you like it or not.”
I sit up so fast that the room spins. Jackson turned on a lamp and looks breathtakingly beautiful in nothing but his boxers while holding the swaddled baby against his bare chest. This is a vision I dreamed about for years.
Years.
And now?
Now, it’s all fucking wrong.
“I’m sleeping on the couch,” I murmur as I climb out of bed.
His jaw clenches so tight that I’m afraid it’ll break in half. I can see the anger lying under the surface. The words he wants to say to me sit right on the tip of his tongue. So I challenge him with a glare, but he backs down.
“I’ll stay here with our baby. Tell Mommy goodnight,” he says sarcastically.
His words crush my soul, and I hobble out of the room as if they physically harmed me.
I.
Can’t.
Do.
This.
Two days. For two days, I’ve allowed her to ignore me and Tyler. But I’ve had fucking enough. Tomorrow is Thomas’s funeral, which has really sent my wife off the deep end. She’s been very active around the house while planning for it. Even though she’s supposed to be resting, I’ve watched her clean every inch of our home—except for the nursery—just to avoid us. When people come to visit, she locks herself in the bathroom.
She’s exhausting the hell out of me. I don’t know what to do. Mom thinks I should just leave her alone with Tyler. I think that’s the worst goddamned idea I’ve ever heard. Andi is too unstable, and even though I know she would never hurt a soul, in this dark state of hers, I don’t know that she wouldn’t neglect him.
The thought of her neglecting sweet Tyler kills me.
God, I just want her back.
A knock on the door startles me out of my daydreaming. It’s after eight in the evening, so I’m not sure who could possibly be here. Andi already went to bed, and Tyler is asleep in his crib. I’ve just been staring at the damn wall, trying to figure out how to wake my wife up from her mind.
After getting out of my chair, I walk to the front door. When I open it, I’m surprised to find Bray of all people standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“How is she?”
I roll my eyes. “Same.”
“Can I come in?”
“She won’t talk to you,” I mutter.
He frowns but comes inside. “Can I try?”
At this point, I’ll try anything. “Knock your socks off.”
With my permission, he strides down the hallway and into our bedroom. When he closes the door behind him, jealousy surges in my chest. Bray loves Olive more than life itself, but just the fact that he’s Andi’s ex and now in the bedroom I share with her rubs me raw.
I’m desperate though.
If he can reach her, I hope to hell he can knock some sense into
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