Woman on the Edge(15)
She was a new mother who needed help, too, Nicole thought to herself. But she didn’t say it. Greg’s eyes scanned her up and down. She could just imagine what he saw—the bluish-red smudges under her eyes; limp, lank hair; and the same black Breathe yoga pants and white T-shirt that she’d worn for days. How could she have created a multimillion-dollar empire yet not have the energy to shower and change her clothes?
“Is Tessa coming over at some point today?”
Nicole shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“It would be good for you to have some female company. Actually, I was thinking we should get some real help, paid help in, so you have more time for yourself. Even a spa day. We could go together, like we used to.”
Her chest pinched. Greg just didn’t get it. She didn’t want to leave Quinn for a second. In his eyes, she saw a sadness she’d never seen from him before, as though the spark had dimmed. She remembered how his face had lit up when she’d surprised him with first-class tickets to Paris for their first anniversary. How they’d barely made it to their hotel room before ripping each other’s clothes off, and he’d held her hand on every cobblestone street they’d strolled.
He’d proposed only six months after they’d started dating. On one knee in the Breathe lobby, in front of all her employees, he’d said, “I’ve never known anyone who embraces life with the confidence and passion you do. I want to share my life with you.”
Where was her confidence now? When Breathe’s fourth international storefront opened in Singapore, Greg made a reservation, under Nicole’s name, at Everest, her favorite restaurant. He’d waited there, on the fortieth floor of Chicago’s Mercantile Exchange, for an hour by himself because she was on a conference call. Greg didn’t mind. He would have waited for her forever back then. Now she felt so disconnected from him. But she didn’t know if it was only coming from her.
“You’re so tired, Nic. I really think we should get a nanny.”
“No nannies,” she said quickly, and dug the heel of her hand into her forehead where a headache drilled into her temples. “Do you know what happened to my pills? They weren’t beside my bed.”
Greg frowned. “You left them down here in the pantry next to the formula, and I put them in the medicine chest in the bathroom.”
Nicole racked her memory. Is that where she’d left them? She could barely remember to brush her teeth anymore.
He brought her a warmed bottle of formula and tears sprung to her eyes. Just this small kindness made her want to fall apart in his arms. But she didn’t want to seem weak. She had to keep it together.
Quinn was sobbing. Nicole slipped the bottle between her rosy lips, and the kitchen became so quiet that Nicole almost wept at the respite. Every time her child let out that heartbreaking cry, she felt like it was her fault.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her yoga pants. It had been Tessa’s brilliant idea to add pockets to the spring line last year.
Greg took Quinn from her arms and smiled down at his daughter. For that brief moment, Nicole reveled in her little family. Everything would be okay. This was a massive adjustment. But they would get through it. He’d always put her career first because he knew how much Breathe meant to her—to them and their dreams of success. Together they could do anything.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was a text from Tessa, the only person she could talk to these days.
Can I come by later? We could go for a walk. I bought a dress for Quinn.
Nicole wrote back: Not sure I can manage a walk just yet. But come by after work. Please.
She looked up from her phone. Greg and Quinn were no longer in the kitchen.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, tinny sound broke the silence—“Rock-a-Bye Baby,” a lullaby she never played for her daughter because it reminded her of Amanda and that harrowing summer day. Nicole froze.
Where was it coming from? She and Greg hadn’t yet opened any of the musical toys they’d received.
The eerie melody stopped.
“Honey,” she called out to Greg. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” he called back from the living room.
Had she imagined it?
Her hands shook violently. It had sounded like it was coming from upstairs.
Rather than have Greg look at her yet again like she was crazy, she decided to investigate herself. Her pelvis throbbing, she went to the stairs and started climbing. She approached each step like it was a mountain. She made it to the top, triumphant.
Upstairs, silence. She was just about to go back downstairs when the slow, sinister timbre of the lullaby started up again. It was coming from the nursery. Nicole pushed open the door.
Cherry blossom decals climbed the dove-gray walls, bracketing a white shelf filled with plush stuffed animals. It was a dream room, perfect for her baby girl. But spinning in lazy circles above the crib was a mobile of pastel-colored butterflies, one that Nicole hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. It was the exact same spinning toy that had hung above Amanda’s crib all those years ago, the mobile Donna had changed the batteries in on a weekly basis.
“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall . . .”
The lullaby stopped. Nicole scanned every corner of the room. Who had done this? Was someone in here still? But the room was empty, and the mobile went silent.