Patchwork Paradise(52)

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mom said. I hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Thomas, I’ll get Milo changed. You grab a shower and put a shirt on before Oliver spontaneously combusts.”

My face went so hot I thought it might actually catch fire. I mumbled something about coffee as I hurried down the stairs. Mom followed at a more sedate pace. She wrestled Milo into a new diaper and change of clothes as if he weren’t screaming the house down. My left eyelid kept twitching, and for the first time since I’d lived in the house, I worried about the neighbors.

“You hold him while I make his bottle,” Mom said, then pushed a crying Milo into my arms.

“Okay, little man,” I said, wishing Thomas would hurry the hell up. “It’s okay. Your bottle will be here soon.” I shushed him in any way I could think of—singing, bouncing, making silly facing, putting him down, picking him up—but he was inconsolable. By the time the bottle was ready, I’d lost part of the hearing in my left ear.

Since I was holding Milo and his mouth was wide open anyway, I decided to pop the bottle right in there. His mouth closed, his eyes flew open, and his cheeks began to work like a hungry chipmunk’s.

“Hey,” Thomas said a minute later, looking freshly scrubbed and completely scrumptious. He glanced toward the kitchen and dropped a quick kiss on my mouth. “I tried to hurry.”

“It’s fine. He’s happy now.” I looked down at Milo. “And don’t worry about my mom. She figured it out last night.”

Thomas gave me a wide-eyed look as he sat down beside me. His hand went to my leg, and he stroked me lightly. “How?”

I shrugged. “She knows me too well.”

“What did she say?”

“To be careful. It’s not just you and me now.”

“No,” Thomas said, his gaze drifting to Milo, who was happily scarfing his formula down. “It’s not.”

“She also wants me to be happy,” I said. “So there’s that.”

He gave me a sweet smile. I put my head on his shoulder when he scooted closer. Tentatively he put his arm around me. “Will it be weird, you think?”

“You and me? It didn’t feel weird last night.”

He made a small noise, then turned his face to nose my hair. “No,” he whispered. “It really didn’t.”

I wanted to stay like that forever, but I needed to burp Milo, and he needed entertaining, and by the time he went down for his morning nap, I was still in my sweatpants and ready for a nap of my own. Mom had made breakfast, and I told them to help themselves while I quickly showered.

Sunday had always been us time, and over the past year it had been me time, and yet once I had showered, changed, and turned human again, I didn’t mind it one bit that my house was filled with people. Mom was sitting on the couch while Thomas lay on the floor, with Milo in tummy time on the colorful little blanket.

“Go on,” Thomas was saying. “You can do it!”

Milo lifted his head, tried to look around until it began to wobble, stuck out his tongue, and put his head down again. Mom and Thomas applauded, and I looked at them like they were aliens.

“What a strong boy,” Mom cooed. “Yes, you are. Such a strong little boy.”

I bent down and said to Milo, “Now they’re cheering for you carrying the weight of your own head. Next thing you know, bringing home straight As won’t even get you a congratulations.”

“That was one time!” Mom cried, and I laughed and danced out of the way as she tried to pinch my arm. “I had a lot on my mind.”

I pressed my hand to my chest. “Scarred,” I told her. “Scarred for life.”

“Go get your breakfast, you,” she huffed.

I caught Thomas smiling at me and fled before Mom saw me being all moony-eyed at him. She’d never let me live it down.

The rest of Sunday was relaxing and hectic at once. We went through bursts of madness when everything had to happen at once and we were all scrambling to entertain the little fella. Then suddenly we had to have an absolutely quiet house as he slept.

In the afternoon we finally tried out the stroller as Mom made another trip home.

“So are you back to work tomorrow?” I asked Thomas.

“Just for the morning,” he said. “Tuesday and Wednesday I have to go in all day, and I have Thursday afternoon and Friday off. I’m on call for the weekend though. The on-calls are planned ages in advance, and I couldn’t get out of that.”

“It’s fine. Mom and I will be here.”

Thomas took one hand off the stroller and slipped it into mine. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” I took a deep, slow breath. I knew that Sam’s death hadn’t been a hate crime, but I still felt exposed for some reason. I’d never cared about who saw me out and proud before, so it didn’t make sense to be jumpy now. I pushed it aside. It was fine. I squeezed Thomas’s hand and kept walking.

“What about you?” he asked. “Working all week?”

“Not on Wednesday afternoon. The trial starts.”

“Oh no, Ollie.” Thomas stopped the stroller and peered down. Milo was taking in his new surroundings with big eyes. Reassured, Thomas looked back at me. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry. I promised I’d go with you and now . . .”