Alcohol You Later (48)

My heart beats triple time as I ascend the steps, scrubbing my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans. I feel weird altogether. Discombobulated. Nick and I have never been at odds, not really. The logical part of my brain realizes that I’m angry and need to protect my heart from further injury, but it feels unnatural, like I’m playing a role. All I want is for him to wrap me in his big strong arms and comfort me. He’s the only one who can soothe this ache in my chest—an ache he put there to begin with.

“There she is!” Lyle shouts when I round the corner into the living area.

“Told ya’ll she was coming.” Nicks voice is music to my starving ears. “They’ve been asking for you all day,” he adds as the twins barrel across the bus right into my arms.

Nick looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Whether that’s from the stress of what we’re going through or being worn out from the kids, who knows?

I hold them close, kissing the tops of their little heads, shocked by how much I’ve missed them. By how right it feels to hold these babies, when two weeks ago, I didn’t even know they existed.

They look good. Clean and happy and still alive. I knew he could do it. I just wish I could have been around to see him finally interacting with his children.

“Y’all can go.” I look up from the twins and smile. “Have a great show.”

“I was gonna come back here and hang out for a bit after soundcheck…change on the bus?” He’s so hopeful. But I know myself, and if I don’t keep some physical distance between us, I’ll break.

“You have a dressing room, right?”

He flinches, smoothing a hand over his chest. “Right.”

The forlorn look he wears as he passes me on his way out is more than I can stand. “Nick,” I call quietly.

He turns back.

I reach into my shirt, lifting the pendant to where he can see it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He nods, grabs the other half from his chest and squeezes it in his fist. “I’ll keep you wild.”





I spend the afternoon cuddled on the couch, watching Frozen with the babies, enjoying the comfort of their squishy little bodies plastered to my sides.

For dinner I whip up a quick spaghetti—in hindsight probably not the best choice, as half of it ended up in their hair, stuck to the walls, or lining the floor. But they seemed to enjoy eating it almost as much as they did flinging it around the room.

Today they don’t seem as overwhelming. Their demand for constant attention and incessant mess-making is keeping my mind off their father, and I welcome the distraction.

After cleaning the kitchen, I give them a lavender bubble bath in Nick’s big tub, fix them each a sippy cup of milk, brush their teeth, and put them in their zip-up cribs. Then, I sit on the floor between them, humming “You Are My Sunshine,” until they drift off to sleep.

As I peel myself from the floor, I can’t help but smile over how much easier this whole nanny thing is becoming now that we have an actual bedtime routine. There’s no more screaming. I no longer feel so overwhelmed, and more importantly, they seem settled. These babies have had to do more adjusting in their short lives than is right or fair.

I’m brimming over with pride one second, and in the very next, a tidal wave of sadness pours over me, threatening to pull me back under.

Rather than succumb to it, I decide it’s probably time to return my sister’s frantic calls.

“Well, it’s about fuckin’ time.” Nora sounds hurt and angry, and I’ve certainly given her reason to feel both. We’ve never gone this long without talking.

“Sorry.” Maybe I should have texted her instead. I’m regretting this already.

“What the hell’s going on with you and Nick? I saw the TMB post.”

I sigh, trying to decide how much I can say. “It wasn’t as dramatic as they made it seem.”

It was worse.

“So, are you two together or not?”

“He wants us to be…”

“Uhh,” my sister groans. “And you don’t?”

“I do…there’s just a lot going on that I’m not at liberty to talk about.”

“I’m your sister.”

“And I love you to bits. Trust me, if it was my story to tell, you’d be the first person I’d confide in, but this isn’t about me—not entirely, anyway. So, you’re just going to have to accept that for now there are some things I can’t talk about.”

“Fine,” she growls. “But I don’t like it.”

That makes me smile. “I didn’t think you would.”

“How are you? Is he treating you okay?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m okay… I sort of put my foot down with him and desperately want to pick it back up.”

“Ahhh…” Her tone is all knowing. “You’re horny.”

I scoff, my cheeks and chest flushing. “No! I mean, maybe, but it’s not that…I miss him.”

“Uhh-huh…” I can practically see her cocking her head to the side, all sassy like. “You miss that man meat.”

“I hate you.” I’m laughing, actually laughing, and it feels so damn good.

Nora snorts. “Whatever. You love me.”