I grin at the list that’s already growing. “That’s an acceptable list. I can manage that one.” I wish she’d add herself to it, but she’s already at the top of mine. As long as one of us looks out for her—and it helps that it’s me. I don’t have to navigate murky channels of emotional connections to make a move; I have no problem plowing through whatever or whomever stands in my way.
She sighs, bogged down by this conversation. “I wish people would just stay in line.”
“They will,” I assure her. “But only if they believe there are consequences if they don’t. You stay out of my way and I’ll keep everything running smoothly.”
“I’ll do my best. If I can’t help myself and I forget down the road, you don’t have to put on a whole production—just shove me out of the way and do your thing. You know my heart is yours, wholly and completely. You know I’ll never stop loving you.”
The production served many purposes, not just teaching my lovely wife a lesson in staying out of my way; there’s no reason to tell her that, though. Instead I give her one more kiss, then roll off the bed. “You go take a nice, relaxing shower, then wait naked in bed for me to come back.”
The sparkle comes back to her eyes and she smiles. “I will.”
I can’t bring myself to leave the room in sweat pants, so I make a quick stop in the closet to pull on some pants, a shirt, and a jacket. I don’t bother with a tie, but I feel more myself when I slip out. Mia’s already in the shower, so there’s nothing to further distract me. I retrieve a small item from the drawer of my night stand, grab my phone, and text Adrian for Meg’s whereabouts.
As I head for Mia’s old room, I find myself unhappy with the arrangement. I’m so used to finding Mia in that room that just walking toward it gives me a surge of pleasure. Not that I visit Meg often, or anticipate doing so in the future, but I don’t like setting myself up for disappointment. I’m going to have to move her to a different room.
I crack open the door and hear the familiar sound of Roman’s complaints. Meg paces in front of the couch, jostling him slightly and trying to convince him life isn’t all that bad. His incessant crying would seem to indicate he is unconvinced.
I smile faintly just as she looks up.
“He’s crabby,” she tells me.
“He doesn’t like to sleep,” I inform her.
“Yeah, Adrian told me. He wasn’t joking. Ju happily handed him over.”
“Hopefully he becomes less difficult once he adjusts to existing.”
Meg snorts. “At least he’s cute.”
I nod, my gaze dropping to the baby. “He is. He’ll be much cuter when he accepts that nighttime is for sleeping.”
She paces for another minute, but Roman is inconsolable. It’s hell on the nerves. Mia’s baby whisperer comments resurface. She might not be wrong; she always manages to calm him down. Since she’s not here though, it’s just me or Meg right now. I walk around the couch and decide to take a whack at it myself, taking him and settling him against my chest.
That’s more familiar to him. This is only the third time Meg has held him in three days, and the first time was only for a minute. It may take a couple more days for him to recognize her as a regular caretaker. He still fusses a little, resting his tiny hand against my chest.
“That’s enough, Roman,” I tell him firmly, giving his back a little rub.
He frets one last time, then goes quiet.
Meg smiles. “He already knows the ropes, I see.”
“Mia puts up with his shit. I don’t.”
She nods. “Well, sure.”
I peek down at Roman. He’s happy enough, so instead of taking a seat, I just remain standing. One never knows what might set him off.
I swear, if this is what my kid is like, I don’t even want to think about the temperament of Vince’s. No way Mia’s going to bend much there, either. I’ve paid close attention to how devoutly she cares for Roman, and Dominic will have no co-parent. He’s all hers.
Oh well, I’ll train his little ass, too.
Nighttime is mine.
“So, where do we go from here?” Meg asks, tentatively.
I could tell her what I’ve come up with in the time it’s taken me to walk across the house to this bedroom, but I decide to give her a brutal dose of honesty instead. “I don’t know. Up until an hour ago I assumed you were dying tomorrow. I think the first thing we need to do is move you out of this room. The ivory bedroom might be better. There’s a small adjoining room that can be easily made into a nursery for this little gremlin.”