My brain is not normal. If she could see inside of it, she’d realize how disgusting it is. I keep nodding and rubbing my eyes, trying to take the attention off me. I don’t want to admit the source of my anxiety: sex over a baby. But sitting here, agreeing with them that my panic is a normal motherly emotion makes me feel like a lying liar.
“I just need some air,” I mumble and push off the couch. I pause and lock eyes with my little sister before I leave. “I’m really sorry…for everything.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says softly, exhausted tears welling in her eyes. “I wish you would accept that. It’d make me feel better.”
Humans are cursed, I think. These are emotions too complex to overcome. Maybe it’ll take a lifetime to finally let go.
I just nod. It’s all I can do. On my way outside, I pass the dining room and retrieve Maximoff.
“We can watch Max,” my dad says, staring fondly at my baby who has a little grin on his face. My dad even reaches out and tickles Moffy’s foot. His garbled happy noise melts my heart. I glance at my mom who feeds Jane a bottle, Rose sitting next to her.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “He hasn’t been outside all day.” I don’t know if I still look upset, but I sense the worry from all corners of the room, cloaking me like a hot blanket. It’s almost suffocating.
I want them to believe that I’m strong enough to be a good mom.
Some days, I think I am. Other days, I have to convince myself all over again. But I’m going to get there. And I won’t give up.
I buckle Maximoff into his carrier and then pass through the side door, into the back patio. The weather lingers in the awkward stage between summer and fall, unsure of what it wants to be. I place the carrier on an iron chair and sit on the adjacent one, folding my legs beneath my butt.
“You know I love you, right?” I ask him, fitting his little blue hat snug over his dark brown hair that’s grown in. He grabs onto my finger with both hands. And my melted heart starts to swell. “More than anything in the whole world…right up there with Loren Hale.” The warm air billows, and he lets out a tiny baby squeal, kicking his legs. I smile and sniff, rubbing my runny nose.
The glass door slides open, and I crane my neck to see who followed me outside.
“Hey.” Lo’s voice almost ignites another wave of tears.
“Hey,” I whisper, blinking repeatedly to restrain the waterworks. “I’m just getting some air.”
“Yeah, Ryke told me that you were out here.” Lo drags a chair near me, the iron legs scraping the cement. He sets it beside me and then touches Moffy’s cheek with the gentle rub of his finger. Our baby is glowing at the affection.
“He loves you,” I say.
“He loves you too, Lil.” His amber eyes narrow on me. Confused. Concerned. All of the above. “Are you going to make me ask?”
I exhale a heavy breath. “I don’t want to be thinking about…you know what when I should be thinking about him. It’s not right.” I run a shaky hand through my thin locks, not greasy. I did wash my hair this morning. I remember to do that more now.
He frowns. “That’s it?”
My mouth falls. “That’s bad enough, Lo.”
His forehead creases, and his expression carries so many words: no, not even close. “Normal people think about sex and other things besides their children. It’s okay.”
“Then why does it feel gross?” I tickle Maximoff’s chest, and he smiles so wide that he drools a little bit on his chin. What a goober. God, I love him. I wipe the spittle up with the edge of his blanket.
Lo turns to me, trying to hide his smile. “It feels wrong because you’ve conditioned yourself to think that even the thought of sex is bad. It’s not. It’s just your way of keeping yourself grounded. I’ve thought about screwing you plenty of times since we had Moffy. It’s all normal.”
My shoulders loosen. “I just don’t want to choose sex over him.”
“You won’t,” Lo assures me. “If you’re worried about it, I know you won’t. And thinking about it isn’t the same as making a choice between him and sex. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
It’s his turn to let out a heavy breath now. “We have therapy in a couple days. Can I bring this up? Maybe we can talk through it again.”
I nod. “I’d like that.”
He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the lips, warming all the cold in my veins. When he breaks away, his hand drops to my neck, his thumb brushing my skin. “You were thinking about birthday sex, weren’t you?” His smile dimples his cheeks.
“Belated,” I remind him.
“Belated birthday sex. Tell me all about it.”
I love how he makes me feel normal. How my brain isn’t some vast deep filthy wasteland to him. In his eyes, I’m some kind of perfect.
44
LOREN HALE
Lily is tangled and twisted in our red sheets and champagne comforter, even more when she rolls over onto her back.
“You practicing to be a taco?” I ask her, kneeling on the bed. I fed Moffy this morning and let Lil sleep in. She’s been getting shit sleep lately, too restless from the lack of sex.
“Maybe…” she mutters, peeking from the edge of the comforter. “Do I look like a good taco?”
“I’d eat you,” I say with a nod.
Her cheeks redden. Shit.
“Two more days, Lil.” I tap her foot in encouragement and then clasp her ankle, yanking her closer to me. The comforter and sheets come with her.
“It seems like eternity,” she whines.
I scan her body quickly, noticing how the blankets rise and fall with her ragged breathing. I peel the heavy comforter off, just leaving her wrapped in the red sheet. “You remember when we were teenagers?” I ask, spreading her legs apart with a firm hand.
Her mouth slowly falls as she hones in on my movements.
I sink my weight onto her, and my lips brush against her earlobe. “When we were alone in my living room, pretending…” I kiss the base of her neck, using my tongue. Her body trembles beneath me.
We always “practiced” together. Not going all the way but far enough. We’d put on a show for passing staff in the house, just in case they reported back to my father. I always pushed her limits. I know this.
“I would have you against the wall,” I breathe, my gaze traveling along her collarbones, peeking from a black V-neck shirt. My shirt that she wore to bed. “And I would brush my fingers through your short hair.” I run my hand up the soft flesh of her neck. She’s small beneath me, thin and delicate, even if she’s likely to jump on me and grind.
“Lo,” she chokes, her voice hoarse. I can remember the past fully now. To say the words, to bring it up and relive some moments—it doesn’t hurt anymore.
I think we’ve both accepted it for what it is. Our f**ked up beginning. But it’s our beginning. And no one can take that away from us. “Do you remember what I would do next, love?”
She’s fixated on my lips. “You’d press yourself against me.” Her neck flushes. “I could feel your erection, did you know that?” Her eyes flit up to mine, eager for my answer.
“I knew you made me hard, yeah,” I say with a smile.
She hits my arm. “Not that.”