Foundations - Kate Canterbary Page 0,4

it came a chorus of my parents, Andy, and our baby daughter, screaming her little blonde head off.

Matthew sighed, pressed his face between my breasts with a growl, and murmured, "I'll take this one. You hit the shower."

"Tonight we're—"

"I heard you, Lauren," he snapped as he climbed off me. "I know. I'll handle it."

2

Matthew

I tapped the stone foundation with a flathead screwdriver, looking for signs of deterioration before moving to another section. "I'm not the only one who can assess a foundation. You are also capable of doing this work," I called over my shoulder to Patrick. "Nothing especially technical here."

"But I enjoy your sunny disposition," he replied, his attention focused on the gas and water lines running through the basement's rafters. "And you're managing this project now."

I groaned, scowling at him. "Dammit, why?"

Patrick circled his mechanical pencil at the empty space. "This is a great property. It's a gift. I'm certain you can see that, even in your current state of extreme sleep deprivation."

"It's getting better."

It sounded like a whine. It was a whine. I was whining about being tired and I was tired because my kid didn't sleep at night. I was whining over my precious little girl and her difficulty in making sense of the outside world and that made me an asshole.

An asshole who didn't notice his wife struggling until she was crying into her pillows.

An asshole who watched her cry but couldn't think of anything beyond stripping her down and owning her luscious body.

The kind of asshole who seriously considered fucking his wife until she talked about her problems. And then fucking her some more to solve them.

An asshole who then yelled at his wife over making date night plans because he throbbed for her like a bad habit.

Such a goddamn asshole.

"It's better," I added. "It's improved in the past few weeks. I think we're on the upswing."

I sounded more confident than I felt. A sliver of me believed I'd be walking the halls with Madeleine on my shoulder until she was nine. Maybe longer. That sliver wanted to rage against the injustice of newborn sleep schedules.

The rest of me wanted nothing more than my wife all to myself. I couldn't look at her without a wall of emotion coming down on top of me. Love wasn't even the word for it anymore. God, no. I was a hundred miles past love. What I had for this woman lived in my bones and blood. I'd sooner bleed myself dry than fall out of love with her. I wanted to get lost in her, surrender to her, consume her from the inside out.

But I was losing my mind without her. That was how it felt—like we were separated. Between her parents, visitors, and Madeleine, someone was always betweenus, always stealing my wife away from me.

Yeah, I lumped the baby in with that lot. She was the sweetest thing in the entire world and my heart still caught in my throat when she reached for me but I envied the attention she demanded from Lauren. I adored our little girl. I treasured the place she'd claimed in our life. I had no regrets. I also wanted my wife back.

"Is that, uh, is that normal?" he asked. "Shannon's kids never had trouble sleeping."

"Of course not," I replied. "They're Shannon's kids."

"Fair point," he said. "Have you asked Nick's opinion?"

I rolled my eyes with a scoff. Nick Acevedo heard from me morning, noon, and night. I hadn't managed to go a single day since Madeleine's arrival without consulting the good doctor. "He's billing me now."

"As he should," Patrick replied. "It looks good down here. Let's go upstairs and work out a budget."

I followed him up the stairs, muttering, "Still not convinced I want to deal with this place."

"You do. It's an easy project that won't take much handholding and you'll get it done in four, maybe six weeks. You can manage this half asleep," Patrick said as he stepped into the kitchen. He pointed at the cabinets and appliances. "Everything must go."

"Everything," I agreed. "I told you, things are looking up. She got five full hours last night. It's the longest she's slept so far. That's something."

Patrick shook his head, his eyes wide and unblinking. "I can't imagine how that's anything but I'll take your word for it." He tucked his pencil behind his ear, leaned against the countertop. "How do you—you know—how do you handle that? Marriage-wise."

"Oh, you're asking if I'm having sex?" I asked, a sharp, manic laugh