“I’m hurrying,” I repeat, yanking at my tangled hair a little harder.
Ouch.
I can’t even remember the last time I showered in peace. Heaven forbid I take a moment for myself. If I had a husband or someone I could rely on, I could pass her off for a few minutes. I could open up to him about how close I am to breaking. How desperate I am to strip away all my obligations and simply…breathe.
For a minute.
It’s all I want. All I need.
A few minutes to myself to simply breathe.
Because this pressure of being the perfect mom, and the perfect Baby Mama, and the perfect house guest, and the perfect sister is too much.
I’m second-guessing every decision I make, knowing it’ll affect more than me, and it’s terrifying. But the worst part is, I have to do this alone, and with everything else going on in my life, I feel like I’m drowning.
“I’m hurrying,” I whisper again, opening the glass shower door separating us and bend down to rock the bouncer, hoping to soothe her. “I’m right here. It’s okay. Can I have two minutes, please?” I beg, my voice cracking.
She screams even louder.
I knew parenthood would be hard, but I had no idea it would push me to the emotional limits like it has. Or maybe it’s life, in general, beating me down, leaving me a shell of the person I used to be. I wipe water from my face, giving her a pained smile as another stone of defeat falls on my shoulders.
I’m a terrible mom.
“Sh… It’s all right, Peanut. It’s––”
The bathroom door flies open and bangs against the wall as Penny’s wails grow even louder.
“Shit, Mads,” Milo barks, his tone bordering on frustrated yet relieved at the same time.
“Don’t you knock?” I screech as I try to cover my very naked body from my ex, who’s simply standing there.
Looking at me.
“I did knock,” he counters, his chest drenched in sweat from the gym. “I’ve been knocking. I thought you slipped and fell or some shit.”
“Well, I’m fine!” I yell over Peanut’s cries with one arm wrapped around my chest while I attempt to cover my lady bits with the other. It’s useless, though. He can see everything right now.
Everything.
Face reddening, I demand, “Can I have some privacy, please?”
Without waiting for an invitation, he steps into the bathroom and picks Penny up, cradling her against his chest as he eyes me warily. Like he doesn’t know what to do with me. Like he doesn’t know what to think or how to handle the current situation.
Well, fun fact, Milo. Neither do I.
When Dove suggested I shower to cool off and clear my head, I didn’t anticipate this. A mental breakdown with a side of libido shock.
I feel as if the walls are closing in on me. On us. Especially when he’s looking at me like––I peek over at him again––that.
We’re close. Too close.
And I’m too naked. Too vulnerable right now.
And he’s too familiar.
Like a warm, comfortable blanket I want to wrap myself in. Especially after the morning I’ve had.
Maybe I don’t need a shower. Maybe I need a distraction.
But Milo can’t be it.
Penny’s wails soften to whimpers, and she snuggles closer to him, desperate for his comfort and warmth––like I am––until the only sound encompassing the small room is the water cascading down the drain behind me. Still, neither of us move. I’m not sure if either of us can.
“You sure you’re okay?” His warm gaze slides down my naked body again, first in concern before transforming into something with more heat. More appreciation.
Slowly, I twist my torso away from him, giving him a better view of my back than my front as I search for an ounce of modesty and self-preservation when my attention catches on my reflection in the mirror. My entire body floods with shame.
Man, I’m pathetic.
And apparently, delusional too.
I’m not the same girl he knew intimately. My body’s changed. It’s softer. Curvier. With stretch marks etched into my lower stomach and heavy breasts far from perky after carrying milk to feed a baby. I’m not like the lithe, twenty-two-year-old he brought home a couple of nights ago.
Nope.
Not even close.
And it makes this so much worse.
Because I know this is normal. When a woman has a baby, it’s a blow to her self-esteem and self-image. But she usually has a significant other to make her feel beautiful. Wanted. Yet here I am, under the microscope that is Milo Anders, feeling less comfortable in my own skin than I’ve ever felt.
“Privacy, Milo,” I spit, snapping him out of his daze. “Ever heard of it?”
He clears his throat and drops his chin to his chest. “I’ll, uh, I’ll watch Penny until you’re done.”
“It’s fine. I was finishing up.” I turn off the water and yank the towel off the hook hanging on the wall with way more force than necessary. He snags the other end and tugs it from my grasp.
“Give me the towel,” I order, my chest heaving.
“You still have white shit in your hair.”
“I’ll rinse it in the sink after she’s eaten.”
“You’re allowed to take a shower. You can feed her once you’ve finished.”
“She’s hungry,” I argue.
He drops his gaze to the quiet, wide-eyed bundle in his arms to prove his point. “She looks fine to me. Take your time.”
“I’ve been in here long enough.”
“Bullshit. You look exhausted. Take a break.” He hangs the towel back on the hook, turns on his heel, and reaches for the bathroom door to close it behind him.
“Milo, I’m fine––”
The door shuts, cutting off my rebuttal as I stand naked in the bathroom, staring at the piece of white wood separating me from the outside world. From my baby. My problems. And my ex, who’s more thoughtful than I give him credit for, even when he’s being a controlling jerk.
Go figure.
Chewing on my lower lip, my stubbornness battles with my need to take what Milo’s offering. Another moment to myself. Without listening for a ticking time bomb in the other room who could go off again at any second.
Because he’s got her.
And even though we might have our ups and downs, I know he’ll take care of her when I can’t. It’s who he is. He’s a rock. A very stubborn, very dependable rock.
One I’m glad Penny has in her corner.
The question is, will he still be in her corner if he finds out about Marty?
Shit.
I can’t get attached.
And I refuse to let myself rely on him.
Not this time.
Not when I know how much it’ll hurt when he leaves again.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I turn the shower back on and rinse the conditioner out of my long hair before twisting it into a tight rope to wring out the excess water. Less than thirty seconds later, the towel is wrapped around my body. I knot the white terry cloth above my breasts and twist the door handle. The door softly squeaks as I pull it open, only to be met by a bastard waiting for me on the other end.
I gasp and stumble back a step. “Shit, Milo. You scared the crap out of me.”