Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
She’s woken him with kisses and whispers. When he opens his eyes, fear is laden inside. His cries pierce our ears as she tries to soothe him. “Can you hand me a sippy cup from the cooler?” I get it quick. “Thanks,” she says, giving it to him. He takes it from her hands and then promptly throws it. The moment it hits her jaw, she flinches and covers the area with her hand. “No, Maxwell!”
He's turning red in the face, oblivious to the pain he’s caused her, as his pitch goes up two octaves. I grab an ice pack from the small cooler on the floorboard and come around her, holding it to her injury. “Hold this on it, and let’s switch places.” I climb over and let her slip across the seat. Grabbing the cup he threw, I move next to Max. “Do you want this?”
Screaming once, he releases his anger before he begins to calm down. He stares at me, but I can’t give him the usual smile I have for him. Not when he’s choosing violence against his mom. He tries a cute smile and clapping hands, but I’m not budging this time. He won’t be rewarded for that behavior. “You don’t hit Mommy, Max. That’s a no-no.”
I don’t know how my parents stayed calm with all we put them through, but this is tough. Caught between anger Liv got hurt and guilt for being firm with him, I don’t like this feeling. I glance back at Liv. “Are you okay?”
“He really got me, but I’ll be okay.” Her eyes have reddened around the rims, but she’s not crying. She’s the strongest person I know, and she proves it over and again.
When I turn back to Max, I ask, “Are you going to drink or throw your cup?”
“Cup,” he says, patting his lap. “Cup. Cup.”
“Okay.” I hand him his cup, and he starts chugging it like he’s the thirstiest person on earth. “Why’s he acting like we’re the bad guys here?”
I feel her hand rub my shoulder as she rests back. “Some days it’s a no-win, but that’s not today.” I look at her over my shoulder. “You did great, Noah. You’re a natural.”
“Then why do I feel like I failed?”
“You can be riding high, feel your kid is taken care of and healthy. Some days, I feel like I finally have this mom job under control. The next day, you get a sippy cup to the jaw. That’s parenting for you.”
That she’s managing to smile gives me some relief.
And then we pull up to the gate to my parents’ property, and I’m right back where I was earlier with nerves.
I tell the driver to take it slow, which gives us a few minutes to cruise the driveway through the property and for us to all prepare mentally for what’s about to come. I have him stop in the front of the house. That will give us a few extra minutes before we go around the back, where everyone has gathered.
Liv puts the ice pack in the cooler, and asks, “How is it?”
“Red from the cold, but hopefully that keeps the bruising to a minimum.”
Despite all that went down, she looks at Max as if she can’t summon the anger to be mad at him. He stretches his hand out for her and wiggles his fingers. She pretends to bite them, sending him into a fit of giggles with the bonus of milk running down his chin.
We clean him when he appears to be done with his cup. Liv touches up her makeup while I change his diaper and his outfit. Now we’re standing on the driveway. I have Max in my arms, and I’m holding her hand. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, she’s carrying a bag full of flowers and a strawberry pie she bought from a bakery.
I look at her, and she looks at me, and we start walking.
32
Noah
I find myself not only holding Liv’s hand tighter but also holding Max protectively to my chest. He’s awake now but still resting his head on my shoulder.
Liv looks as pretty as a summer day in her pale blue dress. Not needing a lot to look naturally beautiful, her style shines in her small gold earrings and beige flat-soled sandals.
Max’s head pops up as soon as we round the corner to the back of the house, stopping in our tracks. The hustle of movement—Harbor and Lark sitting at the table under the umbrella with my mom and dad, Marina with her big sunglasses floating in the pool on a giant pink flamingo raft practicing her future role as a movie star, and Loch and Tuesday at the small buffet table near the kitchen—halts the instant they see us.
“This was a mistake,” Liv whispers under her breath.
To keep her from running, I hold her hand firmly in mine. No way is she leaving me to face this alone. I say, “Hi, guys.”