She slips away quickly and quietly through the dark without any light to aid her way from the pull-out couch we’re sleeping on into the one bedroom she’d dedicated to her daughter’s nursery.
I roll over on the thin mattress, coming to sit on the edge. The hinges and coils squeak with the movement, and I know my back will probably be sore tomorrow. I don’t know how Anna handles sleeping on this piece of shit, but I have to sincerely admire her desire to be independent. She had told me tonight over the dinner she had cooked for me—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn—that her mom had wanted her to move in with her after Jimmy’s death.
Anna had until Avery’s birth, mainly because she was having some pregnancy-related issues due to the stress of it all. But within a month of Avery’s arrival, Anna got this apartment and made a go of it on her own. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t receive help from her mom, because she does, only that it makes her feel good about herself to be as independent as she can. It is her way of showing Jimmy, wherever his soul may be, that she’s okay.
I push up off the bed, wondering how badly the neighbors hated us after the amazing and quite loud sex we’d had on it after she’d put Avery down to sleep. I smile at the not-too-distant memory, because uncomfortable couch or not, sex with Anna is on an almost divine level for me.
Reaching out blindly, I manage to grab my briefs from inside my previously discarded jeans. I pull them up my legs for the sake of some modesty. Personally, I don’t care about staying naked, but in deference to Anna, I cover up. After we’d had sex earlier, then cuddled and talked, she’d slid out of bed to use the restroom. When she’d returned, she’d put on a t-shirt and panties, as well as a bra. She’d explained it was just easier to sleep with the bra especially, given her need for pads to combat the leaking.
I know I should be freaked out by that stuff, but I’m not. I have to admire the no-nonsense way in which Anna handles it. Frankly, it’s damn sexy to me that she’s venturing into a sexual relationship with me while dealing with these issues that aren’t typical when two people start to get intimate with each other.
Maybe I’m just weird.
Padding toward the nursery, I manage to catch my toe on the metal leg of the pull-out. I stifle a curse and hobble toward the nursery, guided by the warm light of the lamp Anna had turned on.
I find Anna sitting in her rocker with Avery suckling at her breast. As I’d done once before, I sit on the floor and lean against the dresser. I’m content to sit quietly as she rocks, noting she hums a song to Avery while she feeds her.
It’s odd to me how beautiful I find this moment to be. Watching Anna feed her daughter—Jimmy’s daughter. I’ve not given kids much thought in regard to my future. I know I’ll have them one day, but it’s been neither a burning desire nor an abhorrence. I just figured it will either happen or it won’t.
It doesn’t seem to matter to me that Anna has a child by another man, though. There’s no jealousy or desire to have her all to myself. I knew coming over tonight would partly be about Anna and me spending time together, developing this new path to our relationship and cementing our bonds—particularly sexually.
But I also know Avery is a part of Anna’s everyday life. As in, there won’t ever be a day I’m with her that I won’t take a backseat to Avery’s needs, and I’m okay with that.
Furthermore, there’s something about Anna being fully in her element of motherhood that is not only beautiful, but also comforting as well. I know she can handle anything, and her stability helps to anchor me, too.
Anna shifts Avery to her other breast. I’m fascinated as she helps position her, and at how easily the tiny human finds the nipple and instinctively knows what to do. I imagine it wasn’t easy at first, but Anna and Avery both seem to be professionals now.
“Will that hold her through the rest of the night?” I ask in a low voice.
“Until the early morning hours,” she replies softly, her smile gentle as she gazes at her little girl. “She usually gets up sometime between five and six. Which is perfect as that gives me plenty of time to get ready for work, then get her over to my mom’s house.”
I shake my head, a little awestruck. “It’s amazing how well you juggle it all.”
She waves me off. “Nah.”
“Yeah,” I say pointedly. “You’re amazing.”