Well Suited (Red Lipstick Coalition #4)(62)

On my way to my bedroom, I paused, hearing the scoot of furniture in the baby’s room.

My frown deepened.

I pushed the cracked door open.

My mother was hinged at the waist, dragging the changing table across the hardwood floor. The rug had been rolled up and propped in the corner, the crib pushed against the wrong wall, and the armchair was facing the wrong direction, just out of the way of whatever path she had the changing table on.

“What are you doing?” I shot.

She jumped, giggling as she fell back on her ass in surprise. “Katie, you scared the life out of me.”

I scanned the bedlam. “What are you doing?” I asked again, trying to quiet the surge of irrational rage and violation.

“The energy in this room was all wrong, Katie-Bug. The chi was hitting walls and flying out the window, so I’m just putting everything where it belongs.”

I unceremoniously dropped my bag in the hall, rushing into the room. “It belongs where I put it,” I said, grabbing the changing table and throwing my weight behind it.

“But you don’t want to put the crib that close to the window, or her energy will get sucked right out.” She flung her hand from the top of her head toward said vortex window.

I pushed blindly at the stupid changing table, which was heavier than I remembered. Probably because Theo had moved it before.

His name climbed up my throat and stuck there. I swallowed it down with my inexplicable tears.

“Feng shui is not science, Mom.”

“Maybe not to you, but it is to me,” she said quietly as she stood. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just trying to help. Here, let me move it back.”

I shrugged her off. “I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Katie. Let me help,” she said with aching kindness that did nothing but fan the frantic flame in my heart.

My control was lost, gone in a bang and a flash.

“No!” I cried, hot tears stinging my eyes as I let the changing table go and turned on her. “You’re not helping, don’t you see? But of course you don’t see,” I reminded myself. “You can see the future in a deck of cards, but you can’t see how this would upset me. Do you know me at all? Do you understand me in any context? I want things the way I want them. Theo and I put these things where we wanted them, and you didn’t even ask. You didn’t ask a single question, just came in here and did. You had to know this would upset me, which makes you cruel. And if you didn’t, you’re just blind.”

Angry tears rolled down my cheeks, not only for my frustration, but with guilt. She looked so small, her face bent in sadness and regret, as her shoulders curled in on themselves. She was cowed and cowering, and the apology written all over her only made the whole thing worse.

I felt him before I saw him, his presence behind me drawing the attention of every nerve in my body. When I turned to him, his face was tight with concern, his eyes scanning the room, my mother, and then me.

“I…I’m so sorry,” Mom said, sniffling. “I wanted to surprise you, but I…you’re right. I should have known. I’ll put it all back just like it was,” she promised.

I couldn’t speak. All my energy was tied up in trying not to cry.

Theo’s hand was on my arm, pulling me into his side.

“It’s all right,” he said even though it wasn’t. Nothing was. “Just leave it where it is. I’ll put it all back.”

“No, it’s my mess. I’ll sort it out,” she insisted, stepping toward us to shoo us out. “Go on. I’ll make it right.”

He nodded, guiding me out of the room. I was trembling, my knees unsteady, my lungs locked, my thoughts spinning. I couldn’t understand why I was so upset, why I was hysterical over something so stupid as furniture. I felt unheard, misunderstood by the one person who was supposed to know me better than anyone.

But she never had heard me. She never did understand.

When we stepped into Theo’s room, I forgot my mother instantly—what waited there shot my lungs open in a gasp.

The room was lit by glowing, golden light, filtered through the white sheets of a blanket fort. It was held in place by tethers stuck to the walls, the sheets draped in a feat of engineering, the interior strung with fairy lights. When I peered through the parted entrance, I found floor pillows and throw pillows and blankets laid out like a nest.

He kicked the bedroom door closed but didn’t stop walking, steering me around the bed, toward the tent.

“How…what…what is this?” I asked stupidly as he bent, ducking into the tent.

His hand reappeared from the entrance, seeking mine. “A blanket fort.”

I slipped my fingers into his palm. “Well, I can see that, but…why the hell did you make a blanket fort?”

When I climbed in, my eyes widened. It was dreamy and cozy, more like a room than a temporary play tent. The lights were so soft, the textures and feathery lightness of the pillows swallowing me up. He was sitting with his long legs stretched out, his torso propped on one elbow. The other hand pulled me down to him.

“Well,” he said, wrapping me in his arms, pulling me into his chest, “I ordered a pillow fort kit for the baby and was testing it out. I wanted to make sure I knew how to do it and that all the pieces were included. And that it was as epic as I imagined.”