Patchwork Paradise(68)

“This is pretty nice,” I said to Thomas.

“Yes, it’s not a bad place to be.” He glanced at the kitchen. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Sure.” I sat down and waited while he went to talk to Liesbeth. The room wasn’t big enough that I could avoid overhearing, but I kept my gaze fixed on the window anyway.

“How are you doing?” Thomas asked her.

“Not bad. I miss Milo a lot, but I can see now that I made the right choice coming here.”

“Do you know what’s going to happen when you can go home?”

The tap ran, so I missed some of her reply. “. . . for six months. Then he’ll be with you for seventy-five percent of the time and twenty-five with me for another six months, and after that, fifty-fifty if that’s good with you. Have you two decided if you’ll be staying—”

“No,” Thomas said quickly. “Not yet.”

I bent down to look at Milo. His bottom lip stuck out like he was pouting over something in his sleep. It made me smile. His little socks were coming off his feet, but I didn’t want to risk waking him yet by pulling them up. He scrunched his nose and made a kissy face.

“You’re too adorable,” I whispered. “I mean, how could you not be with parents like that? You’ll be real clever too, like your dad. And I bet your mom kicks ass too. I thought maybe I wouldn’t like her, but yeah, she seems really nice.” I swallowed hard. “You’re going to turn out just fine, little boo. No matter what.” I straightened and found two pairs of eyes gazing down on me. “Uh.”

“Here,” Thomas said, handing me a cup. “Too sweet, just as you like it.”

I felt my face go hot. “Thanks.”

Liesbeth sat down cross-legged on the floor. Milo kicked his legs and opened his eyes. He yawned widely and with his entire face, in that way only babies can. And then his gaze fixed on his mother. I nearly burst into tears when he gave her the most beautiful smile.



The thing with babies is, sometimes they cry and cry, and no matter what you do, they won’t stop. We arrived back at the house around four, and Milo had been crying since we got in the car.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, turning around in my seat. All I saw was the back of his carrier. “Do you think he’s missing his mom?”

“I think he’s too young to realize what’s going on. Maybe he has a dirty diaper.” We’d stopped twice and checked it, but it’d been wet, that was all. Thomas worried his lip. “Do you think he has a fever?”

“Why don’t you come inside for a second? Your little first aid kit is still here. We can check it.”

“Okay.” He stared at me with wide eyes.

“What?”

“It’s one of those baby ones.”

“Well, yeah. I’d expect it to be.”

“It’s a rectal one,” he said.

“Oh.” I leaned into the passenger door. “Well, dude. You’re the dad. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Shit. Okay, let’s do this.”

I went to unlock the front door as Thomas freed a still-crying Milo from the car, and led the way to the dining table.

“You haven’t put anything away,” Thomas said.

My cheeks heated. “No.”

Thomas hesitated as he looked at me, then dug through the little first aid kit and produced a tiny thermometer.

“No, I’m googling this first.” He pulled out his phone and made a series of faces I’d have found hilarious if I weren’t becoming more and more worried about Milo squirming in his arms. “Right. I got this. We have to take off his diaper.”

I held back the duh and put Milo on the towels. “It’s okay, little fella,” I told him as he tried to throw a punch. “Good thing your arms are so short or I’d have two black eyes right now.”

Thomas worked him out of his onesie and diaper, then picked up the thermometer. “Can you hold his legs? Tight, so he can’t kick loose.” He paused. “But not too tight. We don’t want to hurt him.”

“Thomas,” I said, “I’ve got this end. You deal with the other end.”

“Okay.” He blew out a deep breath, dabbed some Vaseline on the tip of the thermometer, and pinched his lips together.

Milo’s face drew in like a thunder cloud. “I know, buddy. It’s not fair, is it? Oh look, he’s really getting mad now, Thomas. Look at that, his face is going all re—”

“Oh God.” Thomas straightened quickly.

“Well.” I made a face, reached for a box of wipes, and handed them to Thomas. When I looked down at Milo, he was smiling. “I guess now we know why you were crying, huh?”

“No fever,” Thomas said weakly, and I laughed.

The crying must’ve worn Milo out, because he fell asleep in Thomas’s arms not long after.

“Do you think he can nap in his crib here for a while?”

It made my heart hurt that he thought he had to ask. “Of course.”





I hadn’t seen Thomas or Milo in two days. I hadn’t slept, had barely eaten. My house felt like an echoing cave in its silence, and I ached for Thomas so much. Maybe a year was fast to move on, but I couldn’t help how I felt. I loved Thomas, and I wanted to live with him. If that meant selling this house, I would. He was right. The past stuck to me like cling film, and while I adored this place, at the end of the day it was only a house.