The Marriage Rival

“I’ll go sleep on the couch. There’s no room for me,” I whisper, leaning in and kissing his lips. “Good night. I love you.”

“I love you, too…”

The lamp clicks, turning off the light, and with a spare blanket and pillow in hand, I make my way to the sofa and try my best to get comfortable.

Family life—who would have thought it would be this hard?

I often question how my good friend, Charlie Edwards, and her husband, Lex, manage to raise three girls. Much like Haden, Lex is barely home running his empire, and Charlie has her own law practice. I make a mental note to schedule lunch sometime with her this week. Maybe I need some girl time to simply unwind.

Soon, my eyelids become too heavy, and I fall into a deep sleep.

The smell of coffee lingers through the house, instantly catching my attention as I attempt to move my stiff neck from the crappy position I’ve found myself in. A cup of coffee is brought to the table beside me, and Haden is standing over me dressed nicely in his charcoal pants and a crisp white shirt.

“Thank you.” I yawn.

“How did you sleep?”

“I’d be lying if I said I was comfortable. We really need to invest in a better couch.”

“We had a nice couch before someone decided it was a trampoline.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes to break the sleep. “Speaking of that someone. Where is he? He’s awfully quiet, and when he’s quiet, he’s usually up to something.”

With my mug in hand, I blow the steam away and take a sip before venturing off to Masen’s room. The door is open, and he’s lying on his bed quietly playing with his cars. He is running them up and down his pillow, void of the usual burst of energy he wakes up to in the mornings.

“Morning, sweetie. You’re awfully q

uiet for someone going to pre-school today.”

“Momma, I don’t feel well.”

On closer inspection, he looks rather pale with gray circles under his normally vibrant hazel eyes. I sit beside him and place my hand on his cheek—he is burning hot.

I yell for Haden to come, and then yell again for him to bring the thermometer. Haden races to the room, handing me the thermometer which I gently place in Masen’s ear.

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

“I don’t feel well, Daddy.”

I’ve seen this face before, it’s the face of a child who is just about to…

I push Haden out of the way as Masen falls forward, vomiting on the floor as he cries out loud.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I soothe him while directing Haden to grab cleaning products from the laundry.

“I… I sorry, Momma,” Masen cries, again.

Picking him up in my arms, I take him to the bathroom, stripping off his vomit-stained clothes and running the shower so I can clean him off. His sickly demeanor and small cries continue to break my heart. I know he needs me today, and that means staying home and taking him to the doctor. I think, for a moment, of asking Gemma to help but the guilt begins to eat away at me.

The meetings and work have to wait—my son needs me.

Making my way back to the bedroom to grab a t-shirt, shorts, and fresh underwear, Haden has cleaned up the mess in Masen’s room and is in the kitchen packing his laptop.

“So, I guess you’re staying home with him?”

His tone, unapologetic, strikes a nerve with me. “Yes, well, you certainly won’t?”

“Don’t do this.” He shakes his head, refusing to make eye contact with me. “I don’t like seeing my son sick, but I have shareholder meetings that I’m expected to lead. I can’t play hooky and stay home, okay?”