Mood gone?

I look down at my groin.

My mood is definitely not gone.

Thank you, she adds. And I’ll make it up to you when I come home.

I’m throbbing. I look like I have a joystick growing out of my sweats. Henry got to look at Chloe’s naked, sprawling, hot show.

And this is where being a nice guy sucks.

But I do it anyway.

It’s fine, I say, finding some mature part of myself I don’t really like.

It’s not fine, she texts. None of this is fine. But you made it all safe. Thank you.

I soften in more ways than one.

Any time, I reply.

I’d like that, she answers.

Like what?

To be with you any time.

Holly begins to squall and squawk in the other room. Damn. Timing is everything.

And babies are cockblockers.

I’d like that, too, I text back, with a silly little heart, as I stand and relax, back to being casual, practical Nick, and do what needs to be done.

Chapter 22

Chloe

When the plane begins its descent into Logan, I signal the flight attendant. Of course it’s a full flight. I have the window seat, about six rows from the back of the plane, so it takes her a few minutes to get to me.

“When we land, I have to get off the plane right away,” I say urgently. “It’s an emergency. My baby.”

“I’m so sorry,” she responds sympathetically. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you need to get to the hospital?” Understandably, she looks around me, searching for, you know.

A baby.

“Oh, no, I have to get to my boyfriend’s house.”

She just looks at me.

“My baby’s there. I was stuck in New York in the storm.”

“And something happened to the baby?” she asks, still concerned.

“No, no, she’s fine. But I’m sure she misses me, I’ve been gone since Friday morning.”

The attendant has lost interest. In fact, that almost looked like a tiny eye-roll.

“We’ll do everything we can to unload the plane quickly,” she says. “I’m sure everyone is anxious to get home.”

“But you don’t understand!” I start, but she has moved off.

My seat mate looks at me. “You can go ahead of us, honey,” she says. “Ours are teenagers. We’re nothing but an ATM and tech support to them.”

* * *

I text Nick when we land: Landed

I text him when the plane reaches the gate: At gate

I text him from the cab line: In cab line

He texts back: We’re fine, relax

The cab pulls up outside Nick’s house. I am so frantic to get out, I can’t calculate the tip, and I’m not going to take the time to swipe my credit card and wait for it to go through. I hand the driver three twenties and pull my overflowing tote bag out to the curb.

By the time I make it up the front steps to the door, I am weeping with relief. My yearning for Holly is a physical ache. My yearning for Nick is not much different. A little different, but not much.

Okay, pretty different.

He opens the door, and I throw myself into his arms.

“I’m so glad to be home, I thought I would never get here, I’m so sorry, thank you so much, where is she?”

Nick laughs and holds me tight. “Take a breath, she’s fine. You’re so cold! Give me your coat.” He yanks my bag into his foyer.

“Nick, where is she? She must miss me so much, and she doesn’t understand why I’ve been away from her. Where’s my baby? Did she eat anything?”

“She’s right here,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me down the hall. He stops at the doorway to the little sitting room off the kitchen, and motions to me to be quiet. I peek around the door frame.

There’s Holly. There’s my girl. My heart actually leaps. Holly is sitting in Jean-Marc’s lap, although he’s watching the football game on television and not paying much attention to her. Nick’s girls are kneeling on the floor with puppets on their hands. Princess puppets, and a dragon. My baby girl has a teething wafer in one hand and Amelie’s long blonde hair wrapped around the other hand. She is enthralled.

I look at Nick, and back at the kids. Holly is wearing a little shirt I’ve never seen before. It’s purple and has a big, sparkly pink sequin heart on the front. She is also wearing what appears to be a miniature pink tutu. There is a big satin bow somehow attached to the wispy hair on top of her head.

“The girls went shopping,” Nick explains, stating the completely obvious. “They thought we needed a few things.”

On the floor sits a stuffed toy lamb. Life size. Beyond it is a pile of alphabet blocks, and beyond those is some kind of round plastic table with a seat in the middle and toys attached to the tray. Nick’s normally austere sitting room, with its black leather sofa and grey plaid carpet, is a sea of pink plush and purple plastic. On the cocktail table are the week’s papers, buried under a stack of board books.

Holly looks up and sees me, and I’m across the room in an instant. I scoop her up and bury my nose in the sweet smell of her neck. The world falls back into place for the first time in days. Okay, a day.

Holly squirms in my arms, struggling a little bit to push back from my hug. She twists her little body around and leans down to Jean-Marc, holding her arms out to him.

Her face wrinkles up and she starts to cry. She kicks me. Kicks me!

I am horrified.

She has forgotten me. I left her, and now I am a stranger. I am a Bad Mother. She hates me.

Jean-Marc reaches up and takes her back. “Hey,” he says to me, and “Sshhh,” to Holly. She settles back down in his lap, quiet.

I am appalled.

The girls jump up. “She is SO sweet!” they are saying. “We had so much fun! Can she come back next weekend?”

Nick puts his arm around me. “Come on, we’ll pack up her things so you can get her home.”

I follow him into the kitchen, looking back over my shoulder. I open the fridge to get her formula, and Nick hands me a tote bag.

Nick’s refrigerator is usually pretty well stocked. Charlie makes sure of that. But pulling the door open now, I can’t even see what’s on the shelves. They are packed to overflowing. Baby yogurt, four six-packs. Fruit sauce in squeeze containers, a dozen flavors. A teething toy. Little yellow Cheerios containers.