Something In Between: Sequel to On The Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 52

With each passing day, life appeared back in Billy. He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in his bed, but I welcomed him into mine. It was soothing to have him close, knowing he was okay. He was even returning to his regular schedule, although he worked from his home studio with Tim acting as a go-between of the full studio and Billy's house. As the week slipped towards the weekend, his mood only improved with Viv and Jackson's impending return. On the other hand, I was nearing panic at the thought of 24/7 children.

"Lil, it'll be great. Viv loves you, and she's picky. I think she gets it from her godmother." Billy winked over our last peaceful dinner.

"But what do they do all day?" I couldn't wrap my head around what children actually did. I had no recollection of myself at that age.

"They hang out just like anyone else. Viv is four, so she's like hanging out with Tim. Jackson's only two, so he's like hanging out with Tim when he's cranky." Billy chuckled at his analogy. "It'll be fine. You may even enjoy having kids around; I know I do."

"But, like, what do they eat?" I sincerely asked.

"Lil, they're human children; they eat food." He shook his head. "I promise it'll be fine," he added again.

"So, they're here all weekend?"

"Yeah, I have them until Tuesday. Sarah has to go out of town for some photoshoot."

"So, three days," I murmured to myself.

"Lil, look at it this way; I'm their dad, so I'm the responsible one. You're just a person near children. You can handle this. I promise."

I poked around at my salad a bit.

"What?' Billy said as he tried to cover his laugh with a sigh.

"Nothing. I was trying to think of what we should do with our last night."

"Kids are not a prison sentence. I'm getting offended about how you're talking about my children." He hit to word 'my' hard. "You've hung out with them before."

"I know, but there were always loads of people around, and Tim. Now, they're going to, you know, interact with me."

Billy sighed. "Why don't we do something quiet tonight? I'll admit that, until they go to bed, quiet time is a limited commodity."

We settled into bed with our books. It was peaceful, the kind of life I had always longed to have with Billy. He would absently reach over from time to time and adjust the blanket to ensure I was warm or rub my knee, but he never lifted his eyes from his book on the collapse of the Bronze Age civilizations.

I was less focused. The calmness that Billy's proximity provided kept pulling my eyes to him and the slight parting of his lips as he read. Eventually, I gave up. I set my book down and reached for my hand moisturizer. I had picked it up at a farmer's market in town. For some reason, a poorly labeled moisturizer off the back of a truck always appealed to me. It was probably good that I wasn't around when tonic salesmen would travel from village to village peddling their goods. I'd have been conned weekly.

I squeezed a bit out and set the tube down on my nightstand. Naturally, I took a whiff. It smelled terrible. The only thing I could think of was snot. I panicked and looked around for a tissue or anything similar that I could use to wipe it off my hand. I was committed enough to get rid of it, but getting out of bed and washing my hands never crossed my mind. However, I took a second and third sniff in some futile hope it'd suddenly smell like shea butter and I would avert the crisis. No such luck; with each tentative sniff came the wince of the horrid smell.

"What's wrong with you?" Billy finally flopped his book down in annoyance.

"My new hand cream smells like snot."

"What?" He didn't bother to hinder his laugh.

"I got a new hand cream at the farmer's market, and it smells like snot," I explained as I continued to weigh options to get rid of the cream. "Maybe it's gone bad," I offered my hand to him to smell.

He didn't oblige. Instead, he pushed my hand away quickly. "There are so many things going on with you right now." He shook his head with his broad grin that made his dimples appear.

"What?" I knew snot was childish of a description, but it was the most accurate.

"Okay, let's start with; snot doesn't have a smell." His eyes glimmered with far too much enjoyment.

"What are you talking about? Of course, snot has a smell."

"No, snot can't have a scent, or else it'd be all anyone ever smelled," he argued.

"Maybe you are always smelling snot," I shot back.

"That's ridiculous. If every day were sunny, there'd be no sunny days; there'd just be days. So, you extend that to snot; if snot had an odor, you'd smell it all the time and never smell it."

I let my head flop dramatically to my chest.

"What now?" He chuckled.

"I'm broken; you have officially broken my brain."

"Yeah, what's that like?" He absently spoke as he turned his attention back to his book.

"Well, it kinda smells like snot." I smiled without lifting my head.

"I strongly dislike you right now," he murmured. "And I think you'll be fine with the kids," he added.