I’d finally found a way to shut up the dirty boy.
21
“What are you doing here?” It comes out harsher than I intend, but I'm totally blindsided. I wasn't prepared for a confrontation, not until his tour ended.
Not to mention the fact that Max is practically giggling in his dad's lap.
The same lap that had a girl squirming about in it a little over a week ago.
Alex's brows knit together. “I got the first plane I could. Things were crazy.”
“Bullshi—” My retort is cut short by the arrival of Tina. She bustles in, a big smile on her face. “Oh, there you are, Lara. All better? Did you have a nice rest?”
She makes it sound as though I've popped home to freshen up. Doesn't mention the fact I've been here four days straight without a break, or that I was starting to smell like a piece of the hospital furniture.
“I got things done.”
I can feel Alex staring at me, and I know he's still frowning, but I can't even bring myself to look at him again. Max grunts as he finishes his bottle and I hear Alex say something to him, but in my fury and frustration I can't make out what it is.
“How's he doing?” One of the nurses walks into the room, immediately making a beeline for Max and Alex. “Would you like me to take him for you?” I swear I can hear her batting her eyelashes.
“It's okay, I can do it.”
Of course you bloody can, I think. You haven't had to lift a finger for over a month. There's a part of me—one I
'm not proud of—that feels aggrieved he's waltzed back in and taken over. Everybody's smiling at him, bar me.
Even Max, the little traitor.
“Alex flew through the night,” Tina feels the need to tell me. She picks up some of Max's muslin cloths, folding them neatly. “He didn't even stop to go home. He was so worried, he came straight here.”
Give the man a medal. He's only four days late.
“How are you doing, babe?” He turns his eyes on me. “I'm so sorry I wasn't here.”
“I'm fine.” The tone in my voice lets him know I'm anything but. “We coped without you.”
“Is everything all right?” He sounds confused.
Of course Tina has something to add. “She's been doing so well. But the depression is very hard on her.”
It's as if I'm in a parallel universe. A few hours ago I knew where I was. My baby was getting better, my friends were taking care of me, and my husband was halfway around the world doing God knows what, with God knows who. But now... it's as though I'm upside down on a roller coaster, desperately trying to work out which way is up.
“I'm doing fine.” It's the second time I've said it, but this time I enunciate each word with purpose. Alex is aware that fine is international woman code for 'you're in deep trouble'. Maybe that's why he busies himself by chatting with the nurse.
“Is there anything we need to do when we get home?”
The nurse launches into an explanation about bronchioles and oxygen saturation, while Alex nods with interest. Digging my nails into my palm, I try to keep myself calm. Stable. Sane.
Because what the hell?
The feeling that I'm in some kind of weird dream still hasn't dissipated. There's this man sitting in the corner holding my son, and I’m not sure if I even know him. I'm so confused I'm not sure what I should do next. But the anger that's been brewing in my stomach for days shows no sign of leaving.
“We can do that, can't we?” Alex says to me.
“What?”
“Keep an eye on him when we take him home. Make sure his breathing stays normal.”