The Perfect Mother(61)
She now has a plan.
Chapter Fourteen
Day Eight
To: May Mothers
From: Your friends at The Village
Date: July 12
Subject: Today’s advice
Your baby: Day 59
Chances are, you still have a few extra pounds to lose. Don’t let that remaining baby weight get you down. Instead, get up! Grab your stroller (and maybe a few members of your mommy group) and take a brisk walk around the park. Choose vegetables and fruit for snacks. Chew your food slowly. Stay away from carbs. You’ll be zipping up those old jeans in no time at all.
Colette sits at the kitchen island, Charlie’s hands on her swollen breasts. “Charlie, come on,” she says, nudging him away. “Not now. You know I have to work.”
“I do know that,” he murmurs. “But the baby just fell asleep in the stroller, and you were up late working again. You’ve earned your state-mandated fifteen-minute coffee break.” He glides his hands down her stomach, finding his way into her cotton pajama bottoms, cupping her inner thighs. “Don’t make me report a secret employee of the mayor for violating labor laws.”
She squirms out of his grip. “Please, Charlie, stop. I need to finish this chapter.”
He stands up, sighing. “Baby, you’re killing me. It’s been three months.”
“I know.”
“We’ve gotta turn this around.”
She swivels toward him, trying to mask her irritation. “Charlie, I know. But this minute? I’m working. I don’t come into your office when you’re writing and try to seduce you.”
He laughs. “You know what, sweetheart? If you ever feel even slightly inclined to come into my office and seduce me while I’m writing, you should act on it. Immediately. Even if I’m on the phone with my editor. Even if my parents are there. Even if I happen, for whatever reason, to be hosting a meeting with the pope. I will stop the discussion, and I will pleasure you right then and there, in a wholly spectacular fashion.”
Colette smiles. “That’s good to know.”
He nods toward his office down the hall. “You wanna give it a shot? See if I’m telling the truth?”
“Is the pope in there?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not interested.” She stretches her legs and places her toes on top of his. “I’m sorry. I need to focus. I just used the thesaurus for the word went. It’s not going well.” He extracts his feet, walking to the refrigerator for the bottle of breast milk she prepared earlier. “You leaving?” she asks him.
“Yes.”
“Where you taking her?”
“Running.”
“I’ll take her when I get back. This meeting should be quick.”
Charlie nods.
“Take the yellow sun hat,” Colette says. “The others are too big for her.”
“Yep. Know that.”
“You have the sunscreen?”
“Yep.”
“It’s supposed to get even hotter today.”
“Yep.” Charlie closes the fridge, keeping his back to her. “I know how to take care of my daughter.”
“Are you annoyed with me?”
“Yep.”
He turns, exasperated. “This is frustrating.”
“Are you going to divorce me?”
He can’t help but snicker. “Yes, Colette. I am.”
“Will you leave me the espresso machine?”
Charlie drops the bottle on the counter and walks over to her. “Nope.”
“The French press, at least?”
“Talk to my lawyer.”
“You love me?”
“A lot. But god, you’re stubborn.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
Colette pours a fresh cup of coffee and brings it to the window, peering down at the street, queasy with exhaustion. She spent most of the night on the glider, catching moments of sleep in between nursing Poppy, knowing she should put the baby in her crib, force her to get accustomed to falling asleep on her own, like every expert recommends, letting her cry for a few moments if necessary. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every instinct told her to stay with her baby, let Poppy sleep in her arms all night if that’s what she needed.
The visit to the pediatrician had not gone well. “She’s behind,” the doctor said. “It’s clear. She’s having some muscle weakness in her upper body, a little more pronounced on her right side. And I’m concerned about the way she’s holding her head.”
“What does it mean?” Colette asked, cradling Poppy to her chest.
“It’s too early to tell. All we can do at this point is watch her. Come back in three months.”
“Three months? Why so long? There’s nothing to do before that?”
“Not at this age. We just have to wait and see. Kids can outgrow this.”
Charlie appears on the sidewalk downstairs. He adjusts his earbuds and then breaks into a slow jog, steering the stroller toward the entrance to the park. He reacted to the news as she expected he would. Calmly.
“Okay, so we’ll bring her back in three months,” he said. “If he tells us then that we need to be worried, we’ll start worrying.”