Bedroom Diplomacy

by Michelle Celmer

  “Out of curiosity, what do you wear to sleep?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Oh, well, that would be nice, too. “We have most of the night, so there’s no need to rush things. Would you like to start off with something to drink? I have iced tea and soda, or I could sneak down to the den and nab you a bottle of scotch.”

  “I think I’d just like water,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. I’m just a little tired. It was a busy week.”

  It certainly had been. “Have a seat. I’ll get the water.”

  She filled two of her nicer drink glasses with ice and filtered water, feeling a tiny bit nervous. Not about the sex—because they had no problems in that department—but because he was going to be there awhile. When they weren’t having sex, what would they talk about? What would they do? What if, when the sex was over, they got bored with each other?

  Worst case, she could always pretend to fall asleep.

  She walked back into the living room and set their drinks on the coffee table. Colin sat on the sofa, his head back against the cushion and lolled to one side, his eyes closed.

  She sat beside him and touched his arm. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  He blinked awake. “I’m sorry, did I drift off?”

  “I guess so.”

  He yawned. “I’m knackered.”

  “Which means?”

  “Exhausted.” He reached up and rubbed his left temple, wincing. “And I’ve got an awful headache.”

  She folded her arms. “Isn’t that supposed to be my excuse?”

  “It’s no excuse. I’m honestly not feeling well.”

  He did look a little pale and his eyes were bloodshot. She pressed her wrist to his forehead. “Colin, you have a fever.”

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I suppose I should have anticipated this.”

  “Let’s go,” she said, offering a hand to give him a boost. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

  He sighed and let his head fall back against the cushions. “Could you give me a minute before you kick me out?”

  Kick him out? “I meant my bed, Colin.”

  His brows rose in surprise.

  “After all you did for me, did you honestly think I wouldn’t take care of you?”

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, save me the tough-guy spiel. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me until you’re well. Now get up.”

  “What about Dylan?”

  “I’ll just keep the bedroom door closed and locked in the morning before we go down to the day care. He’ll never even know you were here.”

  “And the staff?”

  “If anyone asks, I’ll tell Betty to say that you’re in your suite, not feeling well, and don’t want to be disturbed. And if your flu is anything like mine was, you’ll be back to your old self by Tuesday when the senator is due home. Now let’s go.”

  He took her hand and let her pull him up.

  “You know, I really would be fine on my own,” he said as she led him to the bedroom.

  “Uh-huh. Sure you would.” Men were notoriously big babies when they were sick. Of course, being a soldier, maybe he was tougher than the average guy.

  She switched on the bedroom light and pulled back the covers on the bed. “I changed the sheets this morning, so they’re fresh. Is there anything you need from your suite? Pajamas maybe?”

  He shook his head and looked longingly at the bed, as if he couldn’t wait to lie down.

  “Go ahead and climb in and I’ll get you some ibuprofen.”

  She got his ice water from the coffee table and grabbed the pill bottle. Colin sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in nothing but black boxer briefs, looking like a freaking underwear ad.

  “We get a weekend together, and this happens,” he said.

  “Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow night.” She tapped two tablets into her hand and gave them to him.

  He swallowed them, then stretched out, so tall that his feet nearly hung off the bottom edge of the bed. She pulled the covers up over him, then sat beside him and checked his forehead again. He was really hot.

  “Have I mentioned that I think you’re an excellent mum?”

  She smiled. “I have my moments, I guess.”

  “Take it from someone whose mum didn’t have a bloody clue. Dylan is lucky to have you.”

  “Mine wasn’t much of a role model either. She left us for my father’s protégé. He walked out on his wife and daughters to be with her. All for a relationship that barely outlived the media circus it created.”

  “How old were you?”

  “A very impressionable and fragile eleven.”

  “She never came back?”

  She shook her head. “She met a wealthy Swede who whisked her off to Europe. They had two adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed boys she named Blitz and Wagner, which between you and me always sounded like dog names. I was in high school when the rumors about her other affairs made it my way. Apparently she had quite a reputation in Washington. And there was speculation that she only married my father because she was pregnant with me.”

  “Is it true?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t want to know.”

  “Do you ever talk to her?”

  “I get the occasional birthday or Christmas card, but I haven’t physically talked to her.”

  “So it was just you and the senator?”

  “It was mostly just me. He was never a doting father, but after she left, he completely checked out. I had this crazy idea that if I were the perfect child, he would notice me, maybe even be proud of me. But I finally realized that no matter how high my grades were, no exemplary behavior or good deed would ever please him. He only needed me around for photo shoots or fund-raiser appearances. Anything to make him look good. Beyond that, I was either ignored or criticized. So finally I decided, why be good when being bad is so much more fun? And even better, I could make him look bad.”

  “Because bad attention is better than no attention at all,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Oh, yeah, too well. The drinking and the drugs, not only did they make him mad as hell, but they had this way of making things seem better. They numbed me. Which of course turned out to be a really bad thing.”

  “Do you blame your father for your addictions?”

  “God, no. Not at all. I’m the only one responsible for my actions. It was a bad situation, and I only made it worse. My only real regret isn’t what I did to him, but all the other people who loved and cared about me. Those are the people I really hurt.”

  “But look at you now. You’ve gotten past all that.”

  “It’s still scary sometimes, though. The idea that I might backslide, that I could let Dylan down.”

  “Everyone is afraid of something. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be human.”

  “I guess.”

  He yawned and closed his eyes.

  She checked his forehead again. It felt a little cooler this time. She was about to say that she should go and let him get to sleep, but his slow, even breathing said he already was asleep.

  She sat there for a few minutes more, probably longer than she should have, watching him sleep. Though it was tempting to slide into bed with him, she slept on the couch instead.

  She woke to the sensation of someone poking her in the back. She figured it was Colin being goofy and thought that he must have been feeling better this morning, but when she rolled over to face him, it was Dylan standing beside the couch.

  “Hi, Mommy!”

  She sat up, confused and disoriented, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is Colin up?”

  “He sweepin’,” Dylan said.

  “Then how did you get out of bed?”

  He looked up at her, beaming with pride. “I cwimed out. I gedda big
bed now!”

  Her heart slammed the wall of her chest, then sank to her toes. “Dylan Michael Tate, don’t you ever do that again!”

  The pride melted away and his lower lip began to tremble. He lowered his gaze to the carpet, fat tears pooling in his eyes, and said, “Sawee, Mommy.”

  She felt instantly guilty for yelling. She gathered him in her arms. “No, Mommy is sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m just afraid that you’ll hurt yourself.”

  He snuggled against her chest, so tiny and quivering. “I wanna be a big boy.”

  “I know you do, sweetheart, and you will be. You just have to be patient.” Not an easy thing for a toddler, she knew.

  “Everything okay out here?”

  Rowena looked up to see Colin leaning in the doorway, barefooted and shirtless, his jogging pants slung low on his hips.

  “Cowin!” Dylan shrieked, darting across the room faster than he should have and wrapping himself around Colin’s legs. Colin reached down and patted the top of his head.

  “Dylan climbed out of his crib by himself this morning,” Rowena told him.

  “I know,” Colin said, and she noticed he wasn’t leaning on the wall so much as sagging against it for support. “He came in the bedroom looking for you.”

  “So much for our plan,” she said, hoping this didn’t confuse Dylan further.

  “He’s never climbed out of his crib before?” Colin asked.

  She shook her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I went fifteen rounds with a prizefighter. Everything aches. Even my hair aches.”

  “I know! Mine did, too.”

  “Spare me a few ibuprofen?”

  “Of course. Go get back into bed. I’ll bring them to you.”

  Colin ruffled Dylan’s hair. “You’re going to have to let go, buddy.”

  “Dylan, honey, Colin is very sick.”

  “Like Mommy was?”

  “That’s right. And Colin took care of Mommy, so Mommy is taking care of him. Do you understand?”

  He nodded enthusiastically, but there was no way to be sure if he really understood.

  “Why don’t you play in your bedroom for a while?”

  He dutifully toddled off to his room while Rowena got Colin pills and fresh water. He was back in bed when she stepped into the bedroom, but he was sitting up. He’d dropped his pants on the floor, and the covers were pulled up to his waist.

  “You slept on the couch last night?”

  She sat on the edge of the mattress and gave him the pills. “Yeah.”

  He swallowed the pills and set the glass on the table beside the bed. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  “I feel selfish, as if I’ve driven you out of your own bed.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “So what happened with Dylan?”

  “He’s been nagging me incessantly since he was two to get a big-boy bed, and apparently he ran out of patience, because now that he can climb out of his crib, I have to get him one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now that he knows he can do it, he’ll keep doing it. And not only could he hurt himself, but God knows what he’ll get into while I’m asleep.”

  “Isn’t there a way you could lock him in his room?”

  “I suppose I could install a baby gate. But there’s still the problem of putting him in a big-boy bed. I’m so afraid he’ll fall out and hurt himself.”

  “Don’t they make little beds for smaller children?”

  “Yes, they have a crib mattress that sits very low to the floor. He calls those a baby bed. He wants a twin-size mattress, but he moves around so much when he sleeps, I’m worried he’ll roll right off.”

  “Why don’t you start by putting a mattress on the floor? That way, if he falls off, he won’t have very far to go. If he doesn’t, then you know he’s ready for a bigger bed.”

  He was a genius! “That’s a great idea. What made you think of it?”

  Colin shrugged. “It just seemed like the logical solution.”

  It was so logical that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. “I’m definitely going to try that.”

  Colin yawned and closed his eyes.

  “Tired?” she asked, and he nodded. “Did you want something to eat before Dylan and I head downstairs?”

  “Downstairs?”

  “It’s Monday. I have to work.”

  “I completely forgot what day it was. And no, nothing right now, but thank you.”

  “On my way out I’ll ask Betty to check on you occasionally, and I’m going to keep my cell phone on me, so call if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  She started to rise and he grabbed her hand.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Something about the way he said it, the tone of voice, the sincerity in his eyes, made her chest feel tight. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Feel better.”

  She was almost out the door when Colin said, “Rowena?”

  She turned back to him.

  “I meant it when I said you’re a good mum.”

  She tried to be. And it was nice to hear someone say it every so often. “Thanks.”

  She knew it was considered archaic and old-fashioned by many young women, but she had no grand career aspirations. Taking care of Dylan, being there for him, was the only “career” she needed. It was a full-time job, and one she could take great pride in. If she ever did settle down, it would be with someone who shared those values. If that man even existed.

  Eleven

  Colin wasn’t there when Rowena got home from work at six that evening.

  “Where are you?” she asked when he answered his phone.

  “I’m sleeping in my suite tonight and I thought it would be best for Dylan if I wasn’t there when you got home from work.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “He’s your son. He has to come first. Besides, I’m feeling better already.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “Betty brought me a tray.”

  “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “I will, and thanks again.”

  One night before the senator came home, and then they were back to their pool house rendezvous until he went back to England.

  When Rowena tucked Dylan into bed, he asked, “I gedda a big-boy bed?”

  “Guess what? Mommy ordered you a big-boy bed, and it will be delivered in two days,” she said, holding up two fingers.

  His eyes went wide and his mouth formed a perfect O. “Not a baby bed?”

  “Nope. A real bed. Two more sleeps and it will be here.”

  “Yeah!”

  She knew that wait would probably feel like an eternity, so she told him, “You have to promise that until then you will not try to climb out of your crib. You could hurt yourself.”

  “’K, Mommy.”

  “You promise?”

  He nodded. “Pwomise.”

  Despite that promise, she walked into his room the next morning to find him sitting on the floor playing with his blocks.

  “I cwimed out, Mommy!” he said, excited and beaming with pride. He was just too young to grasp the danger, and since scolding him hadn’t worked the first time, she didn’t bother now. Before he went to bed that evening, she would take the mattress out of the crib and have him sleep on the floor for a night, until his big bed arrived. He would be safer that way. And the baby gate she’d ordered to keep him in his room would arrive this afternoon.

  Dylan wasted no time telling everyone at day care about the new bed he was getting, and she had never seen him look more proud.

  “So, you finally caved,” Tricia said after the morning snack, while they watched the kids darting around on the playground.

  Rowena told her about the crib fiasco and how she didn’t have a choice. “I’m not ready for him to grow up.”

  “Ready or not, you can’t stop it.”
>
  “I know. I wish he could be a baby forever.”

  “You know, you could just have another baby. Speaking of, how is Colin feeling?”

  Rowena shot her a look. “That’s not funny.”

  “Did he spend the night again?” she asked, her tone dripping with innuendo.

  “He didn’t. He insisted that I sleep in my own bed.”

  “And there wasn’t room enough for two?”

  “And wouldn’t it have been fun explaining that one to Dylan?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I see your point. So you guys are still just having a no-strings-attached affair?”

  “Yup.”

  “And that’s enough for you?”

  “Even if I wanted more than that, he’s going to be gone soon.”

  “What if he asked you to go with him?”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “But what if he did?”

  “Relationships are really hard, and they take tons of work. And after all that, most don’t even last. The last thing I want to do is get out from under my father’s thumb and jump under someone else’s. I just want to be…me. Take care of myself and Dylan. I just need to know that I can.”

  “It’s going to be hard leaving the day care, huh? This is your baby.”

  Tears burned Rowena’s eyes. The way they did every time she imagined leaving this place and all the amazing children she had come to love, who she had watched grow and change for almost two years. But if she was going to leave, there was no doing it halfway.

  “I’m working this weekend to get the spare room all cleared out.”

  “If you need help, let me know.”

  “Won’t this weekend be Colin’s last weekend here?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “So where would you rather be? With him, or cleaning with me?”

  “Good point.”

  “You know, it’s going to happen, Row. You’re going to meet a man who loves and appreciates you, someone who will be an awesome father to Dylan. And you will get your happily ever after.”

  Rowena didn’t bother telling her that fairy-tale endings didn’t happen in real life.

  Not in her life anyway.

  *