Me: It’s not saintly to want to help someone. The kids can’t help their situation. They needed a safe place to go.
BestBrotherEver: Wren’s place.
Me: Yes
BestBrotherEver: Was there any planning in that decision?
Me: None whatsoever.
BestBrotherEver: Where are you sleeping?
Me: None of your business.
BestBrotherEver: Use a condom, that’s all the advice I have for you.
Me: Go away
BestBrotherEver: Oh, and Lark says Wren snores.
Me: Good night
I don’t remember Wren snoring last night. I do, however, remember how she felt curled up against me. I remember how her breath felt as it brushed the side of my neck. I remember how the curve of her bottom fit right in my lap.
Shit. This kind of thinking will get me nowhere. I go to my room, a very tidy guest room on the opposite end of the hall from Wren’s room, and pull back the covers. I change into some pajama pants and a t-shirt, since I’m pretty sure at least one of the kids will have me up during the night.
My mind flits quickly to the four little lives that are mine to protect for the next little while. I don’t even know how long I’ll have them. Then my mind lands squarely on Wren and how she is probably drying off now after her shower.
I squash the pillow over my face and groan into it.
Having her just down the hall from me is going to be sheer torment. Torture. Of the most wonderful kind.
Wren
A noise jerks me from my sleep and I sit up quickly. Ever since the miscarriage, I wake up sometimes with the sound of a baby crying in my head. But this time, it doesn’t shred my insides. It’s real. And it’s in my own house.
I toss the covers back and get out of bed.
I find Anna and Devon in the hallway, and they’re both staring into the nursery, watching inside.
“What’s up, guys?” I ask quietly.
Anna scrubs her eyes. “I heard crying.”
Devon yawns. “Me too.”
“You guys go back to bed. Mick and I can take care of this.” They don’t move. They just stand there staring at me. “Do you need me to tuck you in?”
Devon nods.
I smile and follow them back to the room with the huge bed they’re sharing. They crawl beneath the covers and I pull it up to their chins. “How does your mom tuck you in?” I ask, as I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“She rolls us up like burritos and says ‘snug as a bug in a rug’.” Anna giggles. “Then she pretends to tickle us a little and we go to sleep.”
“So, like this?” I pretend to plump them in the blankets, tucking it beneath each of them in turn. Then I tickle across their tummies until they giggle. Their laughter sounds like tiny bells. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” I say as I adjust the covers for the last time.
“Do you think our mom will come and get us?” Anna suddenly asks.
“Of course she will,” I say automatically. But I honestly know no such thing. “She’s just gone to see the doctor so she can feel better.”