by Alex Grayson
“Say Dada.”
“Baba.”
“Dada,” I say again as we get to the changing table.
“Dada,” her tiny voice says with a little squeal.
“Maybe you can teach your sister, huh?”
Peyton turns her little head toward her sister’s crib and sighs. Yeah, I feel ya, kid. I really, really do. Once she’s changed and dressed, I have both girls in my arms. Elle is saying mama as we walk down the hall and Peyton is resting her head on my shoulder.
“All right, little ladies, we are going to go see Grandma. Who’s excited?”
Crickets.
I’ve been through a lot of situations in my life. Busting up my knee, telling my best friend I wasn’t going to college with him, helping one of my closest friends through a pregnancy, but those moments pale in comparison when putting the girls into their car seats. I don’t wish this nightmare on anyone.
2
On days when I have the girls, Katelyn leaves me her car. Putting two car seats in the front seat in my truck is never a good idea. There have been times when I’ve taken one with me if Katelyn and I are both running errands in different directions, and the car seat barely fits between the backrest and the dashboard. My old truck simply wasn’t made for today’s style of car seats, and I’m definitely not built for Katelyn’s little Honda. With the driver’s seat pushed as far back as I can possibly get it, I squeeze myself behind the wheel. My knees come up to the middle of the dashboard console, and my head rubs on the ceiling. Our need for a family car is long overdue, but finances prevent us from throwing money around. I suppose it would be an investment, purchasing something larger, with more space for the girls, and me. As it is now, we hardly drive anywhere together because there isn’t enough space.
After starting the car, I change the radio station from whatever Top 40 Katelyn keeps it on before putting in one of the Disney singalongs we have for the girls. Every time I get into the car, I do this, mostly because the last thing I want to hear is Liam singing. It’s hard to lose your best friend, but even harder knowing he walked away from his life without a second glance. Not even a goodbye. No phone call or letter explaining what he’s doing, why, or when he’ll be back. Gone. Off to Los Angeles to live a life none of us ever knew he wanted until it was too late, all while missing out on the most important part of him – his son. I visited his agent’s office once, after reading an article about Liam and his newfound fame. I thought once he found out Josie was having a baby, his baby, he’d come to his senses. Every year, on Noah’s birthday, I make the same phone call and leave the same message, “Please have Liam call me as soon as possible there’s something he needs to know.” I know someday, I’ll quit calling.
The drive over to my parents is filled with me singing my heart out. Elle is doing the same even though Peyton is the only one who can understand her, and according to the mirrors Katelyn has in the backseat, Peyton is doing nothing but staring at her sister. I’ve never met two people more opposite than Peyton and Elle. Everything Katelyn and I read before the girls arrived told us they’d be similar, they’d walk and talk alike, and have their own language. The language part is accurate; I see them communicating in a way we can’t understand, but they’re as opposite as night and day.
As soon as I pull into the driveway of my parents, my mom comes outside and goes immediately to the passenger side to get Elle, who is much happier now than she was earlier. At least we made it over to my parents without her screaming. After I shut the car off, I’m tending to Peyton. I lean down and give her some kisses on her cheek, knowing full well my scruff tickles her. She giggles and it makes me laugh, so I do it again and again until my dad is hollering for us to come into the house. My dad meets us at the bottom of the stairs and takes Peyton and her car seat. I follow them into the house and find my mother already on the floor with Elle, playing patty cake.
“Have the girls eaten?” my mom asks.
“Not lunch. They just woke up from their nap.”
“Nap?” dad looks at his watch and makes an inquisitive face.
“We put them down after breakfast this morning. We had a long night. At three a.m., Elle had a nightmare or decided it was time to wake her sister and scream bloody murder.”
“They’re called night terrors, Mason. You had them when you were little. Have you spoken to her pediatrician about them?”
Well, that’s news to me. “No, but I’ll mention it to Katelyn or Nick the next time I see him.”
“Babies don’t scream for the fun it?”
I glance at Elle, who’s laughing and cooing with my mother. “You sure about that because she screams like a banshee.”
“You just don’t understand her,” my mom says. Yep, I’ve heard that before, just not with my daughter, but her mother.
After my dad is done showing Peyton all the photos in the house, he swaps granddaughters and repeats the process with Elle. I followed him once, listening to what he said to my girls and found myself paying attention. My mom loves photos and has pictures all over the house. The hallway is filled from floor to ceiling with photos, mostly of me. My dad tells the girls about my life, growing up, and when Katelyn came into the picture. Our first homecoming picture, prom, and numerous shots of us growing up are on the wall.
My dad disappears down the hall with Elle, and I take a seat on the couch. “Katelyn working today?”
“Yeah, she is.”
“It’s a shame she has to work two jobs.”
“She doesn’t have to, Mom. Josie needs help today, that’s all.” Something tells me my mother doesn’t believe me, but whatever. Katelyn and I are managing to stay afloat. So, what if we live off a budget? Someday, we won’t have too. Someday, the girls will have everything they’ve ever wanted.
“Are you and Dad doing anything tonight?”
“Valentine’s Day is a made-up holiday, Mason. You should show Katelyn how much you love her every day.”
“Geesh, Mom. I am. You don’t even know why I asked.”
She laughs and picks Peyton up and sits down next to me. “You’re asking because it’s the 14th and you want to show your wife a nice evening.”
I smile and look away. She’s good at figuring me out. “It’s just we haven’t really been alone since the twins were born, and it would be nice to have some private time.” Telling your mom you want to wine and dine your wife is a topic of conversation I never want to have, yet here I am, asking my parents to take the girls for the night, or at least for few hours so I can properly love up on my wife.
“I hope you’re being safe, Mason. The last thing the two of you need is another baby right now.”
My head shakes back and forth so fast, I swear it’s going to come off. “Not until they’re at least five and in kindergarten, and yes, we are very careful.”
“As much as I love being a grandma, I’m happy to hear it.” She brings Peyton close to her face and they touch noses. “I want to enjoy the girls for a little bit.”
“Us too. So, for a couple of hours tonight, you free?”
She nods. “We’ll keep them overnight.”
It’s an odd feeling, standing in our living room, surrounded by family photos, throw pillows, and toys, under complete silence. Normally, the television is on or the girls are in one of their chairs and Katelyn is singing along to the radio while she’s cooking dinner. Even at night, the static from the baby monitor fills our bedroom with background noise.
I don’t know what to tackle first, but I have a list in my head. As I look around, I realize the flowers I bought Katelyn in Allenville are still in my truck, so I run out to get them. Any other time, I’d get a bouquet from Josie, but I want Katelyn to be surprised when she comes home. Of course, the trip to Allenville brought up a crap ton of memories from when what’s his face and I were best friends. The trouble we used to get in, the Beaumont Police Chief would call the Allenville Chief. We used to be certain they had some side deal going on. Not that it mattered because
Beaumont High always prevailed over AVHS. When you have the best and most sought after quarterback playing for you, it sort of gives you an edge.
Along with her flowers, I grab the bag of groceries I picked up. Tonight, we’re going to have steak and potatoes, then share a slice of pie from the bakery. I’m not much of a cook, at least in the kitchen. For whatever reason though, I can grill like I’m some master chef.
First things, first. I’m going to clean the house. It takes me about twenty minutes to find all of Katelyn’s cleaning supplies, mostly because I’m enthralled by the yellow gloves I found under the sink. They’re tight and very constricting, but I see her wearing them all the time, so they must be needed. With the radio on a country station – not my favorite to listen too – I get to work. I’ve never understood how so much time can pass while cleaning until now, and I get why it can take all day to clean the house. It makes complete sense why Katelyn has a schedule. She cleans the bathroom on Saturdays, vacuums the floors and does the dishes nightly, and the kitchen floor is mopped on Sunday nights after we’ve all gone to bed. She says she likes to wake up on Monday morning to a sparklingly floor, and for all I know I’m probably screwing it up.
Once the living room and dining room are done, I take on the bathroom. It looks clean, but . . . sex earlier. So, I spray, scrub and scour, and when I’m done, I use her lipstick to leave a message on the mirror. Katelyn will definitely love this!
My final room is our bedroom. I change our sheets, tuck in the corners, make our bed, and fluff the pillows like I’ve seen her do numerous times. I also pick up my dirty clothes and start a load of laundry. It takes me about twenty minutes to figure out how to use our washer, though. In college, I’d dump my bucket, add some detergent and quarters and come back a day or so later, praying my clothes were still there. Things were much easier when Katelyn and I lived with Josie and Noah because the women did my laundry for me.
With the house clean, I start to decorate with the bag of rose petals the florist sent home with me. When I told her what I was doing, she suggested scattering rose petals on the floor and showed me a picture from one of her magazines. The concept is great, but I have a feeling my execution will be subpar at best. Nonetheless, I’ve made sure there’s a trail to the bedroom, but none on the bed. I don’t want my ass stained red.
Finally, dinner. I’m not ashamed to admit I asked my mom for directions on how to cook the perfect steak in the oven, and by the aroma coming from the kitchen, I have to say I think I did pretty damn good.
As the sun sets and the sky turns darker, I pace until I hear the rumble of my truck coming down the road. I dim the lights, pick up the vase of flowers, and then set it down. Maybe I should pose or take off my shirt? No, she’d laugh and bust my ego. The vase it is. I pick it up and hold it close to my chest. The door from our breezeway opens slowly, and she turns on the lights to our dining room before she’s fully in the house.
She gasps and covers her mouth. Her eyes go wide as she takes me in, and a smile forms. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I say to her as she comes closer.
Katelyn touches one of the roses delicately and bends to inhale its scent. “Mason,” she says my name softly. “I thought—”
“I know what we agreed upon,” I say, cutting her off, “but you deserve this. Everything you do for the girls and me, this is the least I could do. Someday, I’ll be able to do so much more. I can’t wait to take you on a lavish vacation where we do nothing but sit around on a beach all day, sipping drinks with paper umbrellas while basking in the sun.”
“Sounds amazing.”
I set the flowers down and pull her into my arms. “It will be. Our dreams will come true. We’re just taking the long way around instead of a shortcut.”
“I love our life, Mason. I don’t care if we didn’t follow the plan. We did things our way, and the girls are an added bonus. Speaking of, where are my children?”
I can’t help but smile as I lean down and kiss my wife. “My parents are keeping them overnight with the caveat that we don’t create any more children tonight.”
Katelyn steps away from me and puts her hands up. “You keep your baby maker far from me, mister.”
“Said ‘baby maker’ was balls deep in you earlier and you didn’t mind,” I point out. I walk toward her until her back is against the wall and place both hands on the side of her head, caging her in. The distance between our mouths is minimal. I could kiss her, remind her of how much she means to me, but I wait. “Like you said, you’re happy with the twins, and so am I. The plan was five years, we have four more to go and then we can talk about having more, but tonight is about us, taking our time and loving each other, knowing our babies are being spoiled by their grandparents. I can make love to my wife for hours without feeling like we have to rush. How does this sound?” I twirl a piece of hair between my fingers and she grips the hem of my t-shirt.
“But first, we should eat because whatever you’ve made smells amazing, and I’m starving.”
I shake my head slightly and smirk. “Woman, you will be the death of me.”
Katelyn pulls me toward her. “Sorry to break it to you,” she says after kissing me, “but we are stuck together for the rest of our lives.”
“Growing old with you is something I look forward to. Come on, let’s eat because you’re going to need your stamina for tonight.”
We walk hand in hand into the kitchen. Katelyn hops up onto the countertop and happily accepts the glass of wine I hand her. While she sips, she tells me about her day, and I finish putting our dinner together.
“How was Josie?” I know the answer before I even ask and wish I could take it back.
“She puts up a good front, acts like she’s happy with Nick, but I see right through her. She’ll never get over Liam.”
“Maybe I should hunt him down,” I say with my back facing my wife. She doesn’t have any idea I’ve called his agency every year since Noah’s birth.
“I think,” she says, then pauses. I feel her arms wrap around my waist as she presses into my backside. “You’re the most amazing man on this planet, but Josie needs to find happiness with Nick, and if she can’t, she needs to move on. Liam’s not coming back, and we all need to accept it.”
Easier said than done . . . but I agree with her.
Hello Reader!
Thank you for taking the time to read a bit of Mason Powell point of view. This story has been a long time in the making and won’t be an easy one to write but should be told. You can read more here.
About Heidi
Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers.
Originally, from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband, two daughters, and their three dogs.
In 2012, Heidi turned her passion for reading into a full-fledged literary career, writing over twenty novels, including the acclaimed Forever My Girl.
When writing isn’t occupying her time, you can find her sitting courtside at either of her daughters’ basketball games.
Heidi’s first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Rothe, and opened in theaters on January 19, 2018.
Visit her at www.heidimclaughlin.com
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Make Love to Me
The Love Plan Short Story
Erica Marselas
Meadow is a horny pregnant wife with a stubborn, cautious husband.
His heart might be in the right place when it comes to her pregnancy, but at the end of the day, she only has one goal in mind.
Get her husband to make love to her.
1
STUBBORN: MY HUSBAND, Dexter Greene, is the definition. I’ve known the man my entire life, and once he has his mind set on something, there’s no going back. So why would I ever think he would change now?
/>
Like when he finally realized we were more than just “best friends” and that he was in love with me after years of built up sexual tension.
He had to almost lose me before he recognized that we were meant to be. Though that’s a different story.
I love my husband, but I think I might have to hurt him. Because if he doesn’t change his stance soon on having sex with his crazy, horny, pregnant wife…Let’s just say he’s going to find himself in an early grave.
Alright, let me back up a little and calm my hormones. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex with me; he’s just being overly cautious.
AKA stubborn. AKA pigheaded. AKA insufferable.
I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant with our second child and spitting nails horny. (In case you missed it.) My last pregnancy with our son, Wes, was a little bumpy at the end. I had developed preeclampsia at thirty-two weeks and then ended up going into labor at thirty-five weeks.
It had been when I passed out after my water broke that left Dex traumatized. He was at work when it all happened, and it was hours before he could get to me because he got stuck in traffic. Admittedly, it was scary, and I was lucky my mother was with me at the time and I made it to the hospital safely. In the end, Wes and I were fine and there were no complications.
I thought Dex was good after the shock wore off. He even talked with a therapist after it happened, as it brought back some old memories to the surface of when we were teenagers, and lost our best friend, Wesley. Whom we honored by naming our son after. But now, I’m seeing from his helicoptering ways that maybe the fear will always linger there.
