to her outside the holidays when my parents passed the phone around when I called, but I thought we’d figured things out the last time I’d seen her.
“Shh,” Mark said, his hand running soothingly over the back of my head. “It’s okay, baby. Shh. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
He shushed me over and over again, but he never let go or stopped running his hand over my hair until I’d cried myself out.
“I’m done,” I finally rasped out just as Olive began to stir. I wiped at my face as I pulled out of his arms.
“Hey,” he said, catching me before I could turn away. His hand cupped my cheek as our eyes met. “Everyone’s done shit they’re not proud of, Cec. Give yourself some grace, yeah?”
“I’ll try,” I replied.
He huffed. “Good enough.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips softly against mine. “I’m gonna go get our stuff out of the truck. You need anything while I’m out there?”
“Could you grab me some water?” I asked.
“Of course. Be right back.” After stealing another kiss, he left the room.
Turning to Olive, I sighed. I hated that everything about her first month of life was being overshadowed by the monster stalking us. Even introducing her to my family felt strange. I wasn’t ready to show her off, comfortable in our surroundings and sure of our welcome. Even with the older crowd welcoming me back warmly, I still felt like an interloper.
I also wondered if she’d feel like she was cursed when she was finally old enough to learn about this time in her life—the same way I’d felt cursed when I’d learned about being kidnapped as a baby. I hoped not. It took having Olive to realize that what had happened to me, Cam, and my mom as a kid just sucked. There was no rhyme or reason for it—just a douchebag with a grudge. Somehow, I’d have to make that clear to Olive, too.
“How you doing, sweet thing?” I cooed, leaning over the bed to stare into her slate gray eyes. “Are you getting hungry?”
She answered me with flailing fists, and I couldn’t help but grin. Even with everything happening around us, she was like sunlight chasing away the clouds. It was a miracle that I’d grown something so perfect. I couldn’t even keep plants alive, and yet here she was, strong and healthy and getting bigger every day. Even if I got nothing else right for the rest of my life, I was suddenly certain that this was one arena in which I would excel. I wouldn’t allow myself to fail.
“Jesus,” Mark mumbled as he came in the room a few minutes later. “Seeing you with her is like a punch to the chest.”
“I’m not even sure how to respond to that,” I replied, taking the diaper bag out of his hand.
“You don’t need to respond,” he said, rubbing his sternum. “I’ll just have to get used to it.”
“You’re a big softy,” I said quietly, turning back to the baby.
“Only when it comes to you,” he said, stepping in behind me so he could kiss the back of my neck.
“You know I can’t have sex, right?” I blurted, refusing to look at him as I changed Olive’s diaper. “Not for another month—at least.”
Mark’s hand tightened on my hip before letting go.
“Where’d that come from?” he asked, moving across the room to drop the rest of the bags on the floor.
“You’re being sweet,” I replied. I lifted Olive into my arms and turned. “And you were saying all of that stuff in the truck.”
Mark scoffed. “Cecilia, even if you were all healed up and wet as a rainstorm, I wouldn’t fuck you tonight.”
I jerked in surprise.
“You’re dealin’ with a lot of shit right now. It’s not the time to start any of that.”
“Then why are we sharing a room?” I asked, both relieved and slightly humiliated. A part of me understood what he was saying, but my pride wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t have sex with him ever.
He looked at me like I was stupid. “I’m not sleepin’ without you,” he said simply.
“That makes absolutely no sense,” I argued as Olive began to fuss.
“You want me out?”
“I never said that,” I replied mutinously. Olive started to cry in earnest, her mouth gaping like a little fish.
“What is your problem?” he snapped.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped back.
“Jesus Christ,” he said over the noise. “Fuckin’ feed her already.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I spat, even as I sat down on