I sat. He looked momentarily startled at the sound, and for a second, I thought he was going to cry. But then he let out a loud giggle, which made me laugh right back.
“You like that, buddy, huh?” I leaned closer to him and filled my cheeks again. “Quack. Quack.”
My son studied my face as if I were an alien, then broke out in a giggle fit. After the third or fourth time, he caught on, and I watched as he tried to make the same sound. His little cheeks would fill, but only a rush of air with some spit would come out of his mouth. No quack. It didn’t discourage him.
After every one of his attempts, I’d make the sound, and he’d watch intently and try again. At one point, it was his turn, and I thought it might finally be his shining moment. He sucked in a big mouthful of air and then…held his breath. His chubby cheeks started to turn red, and his face was so intent. That’s my boy. If at first you don’t succeed, work harder. I had a proud dad moment there. My boy was going to be a hard worker.
He did the red-face-holding-his-breath thing a few times and then started giggling again. It was my turn. So I leaned in close to quack, and when I sucked in the air, I realized during that last round he hadn’t been working on his quack. He was shitting in his diaper.
We both laughed for ten minutes as I changed him. Although I think he was laughing at me and not with me.
Shortly after, the little shit machine conked out. I stared at him in wonderment for a while. This wasn’t exactly how I’d seen my life as I looked forward three years ago, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. My son was everything to me.
By the time ten o’clock rolled around, being annoyed because Alexa hadn’t come home yet started to morph into worry. What if something had happened to her? I swiped my phone from the kitchen counter and checked my texts. Still nothing. So I dialed her phone. It went right to voicemail.
The living room window in our third-floor condo faced Broad Street, a quiet, tree-lined block on the outskirts of Atlanta. Most of the world had been out partying last night, so the street was particularly quiet this morning. Which was why I couldn’t miss the bright yellow, souped-up Dodge Charger with the number nine painted on the side coming around the corner. Even though the windows were closed, I could hear the roar of no muffler and the screech as the driver took the turn too fast.
What an asshole. That corner was a big blind spot. Alexa could have been crossing the street with the stroller, and that idiot wouldn’t have seen them until it was too late. I shook my head and watched the car from the window as it rolled to a stop a few buildings over. It sat idling loudly for a few minutes. Then I watched as the passenger-side door opened, and a killer pair of legs peeked out.
I was married, not dead. Looking was okay.
Then the woman exited the car, and I realized looking was definitely okay.
Because the woman getting out of a street racecar a few buildings away from where we lived was my wife.
Chapter 15
Emerie
I arrived at the office before Drew. When he walked in at almost ten, I greeted him with sarcasm. “Wake up late? Perhaps I can recommend something that might help you sleep.”
I’d expected a comeback worthy of blushing. But I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me.
“Morning.” He disappeared into his office and immediately got on the phone and into what sounded like a heated argument. After I heard him hang up, I gave him a few minutes to settle and then took the morning’s messages to his office.
Drew was standing behind his desk looking out the window and sipping a tall coffee. He looked a million miles away. I was just about to ask if everything was okay when he turned, and I got my answer. He hadn’t shaved, his normally crisp shirt looked like he’d slept in it, and he had dark circles under his usually bright eyes.
“You look terrible.”
He forced a half smile. “Thanks.”
“Is everything okay?”
He rubbed the back of his neck for a minute and then nodded. “Just some personal shit. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”
“Talking