Back to You(10)

That is a good hurt. It proves that you’re alive. I mean, if you can’t love fully—with every molecule that you’re made of—then what’s the point? But I worry that Mia’s hurt comes from actual pain. The pain of guilt—letting go and moving on and trying to forget mistakes.

“I know, baby. But there’s no more room for the bad hurt, okay?”

She rests her head against my chest and I run my fingers along her spine, hoping to lull her. There are things we’ll need to talk about on this trip. Keeping it bottled up has obviously taken its toll on her and I can’t bear to see her hurting for one more second of our life together.

I just hope that together we can figure it all out without making any more mistakes.





Cara lets out an ear-piercing wail, “She has my cup, Mom! I want the blue one!”

“Blue is mine. You get pink!” Charlie holds the cup close to her chest, like it’s the chalice Jesus used at the Last Supper.

Jesus Christ, is right! Where the hell is my mother-in-law already?

“Girls,” Declan reprimands, coming down the stairs with the last bit of our luggage. “Enough bickering. Do you want Mommy and Daddy to come back? Or stay away for good?”

I shoot Declan an ‘if only’ look, winking. I’d love to run away and never return when they’re acting like this. But I try to remember that they won’t always be this way. Right? My mother swears that one day I’ll miss hearing them fight over nonsense. I doubt it, but I have no choice but to take her word for it.

Or actually run away.

“Come on, girls. Nana and Pops will be here any minute. Give us big squeezes that will last all week.” I inch down to their level and Charlie jumps in my lap first.

“Not fair! You love her more! She’s your favorite!” Cara sulks.

I scoot Charlie over on one knee to make room for Cara on the other. “Look I have two laps. One for each of you. Now get over here and give me a smooch!”

The little witch with premature PMS sticks her tongue out at her sister as she hops on my other knee. “I’m gonna miss you, Mommy,” she whines with her blond curls tickling the crook of my neck.

Not even a second later, Charlie’s singing the same tune. “Do you have to go?”

Is a pig’s ass pork? “Yes, girls. We have to go, but you’ll forget all about us being gone because you’re going to have the best week ever with your grandparents!”

Declan leans against the door frame, staring out our three-girl pile-up. “Yeah, girls, just think… ice cream for breakfast, cartoons ‘til midnight. Totally take advantage while you can.”

“Dec, are you out of your mind?”

“Who cares? We won’t be here to deal with their sugar highs. Be total animals, girls. In fact, don’t we have the movie Problem Child on DVD? Let them take some pointers.”

“Oh my God, you’re terrible!” I scold him, using my hands to cover the girls’ ears.

“I want ice cream for breakfast!” Charlie chants as she slides down my knee.

“Yeah! Me too! When are they getting here already?” Cara follows devil number two to the window to watch for their victims.

“See,” Declan says, walking closer to me. He snakes his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “They’re not whining about us going anywhere now. You gotta know how to work ‘em, babe.”

He leans down to nip at my ear and I back away, swatting his broad shoulder. “And your poor parents are never going to let us take another trip again thanks to the shit they’re gonna pull.”

“You forget they raised me and Connor. Don’t worry about them. Worry about me and all the ways you plan to please me this week.” He lunges for me and I make a dash for the kitchen chair, but he catches me before I have the chance to tease him. He surprises me by roughly claiming my mouth, as his hands roam my body and wind up tangled in my hair.

I give in to the moment because it feels too good not to and just as my hands creep into the waistband of my husband’s jeans… we’re stopped by toe-tapping and throat-clearing.

“Can’t you two wait a few more hours?” Sheila, my mother-in-law, asks with a drawn-in eyebrow cocked. “I guess I should be expecting grandchild number three after this little getaway, huh?”

“Ma, really?” Declan groans, his arms still wrapped around me. “We’re trying to get away from the kids. Not make more of them.”

“I know you don’t need a lesson in the birds and the bees so if you don’t want another curly, blonde whirling dervish popping out in nine months, be safe.”