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Chapter 188

But God, it feels good not to be alone

— Lana Del Rey, Dance Till We Die

. . . . 

When I get home from work, Harry's outside in the front garden throwing Max's red rubber ball to him and waiting for the little seventeen-month-old toddler to chase after it. Harry tells Max that I'm home, and I watch from the side of the car as the small child turns to look at me, the handsome wide grin shining over his face.

"Mama!" He cheers and toddles over to me.

I lift him into my arms then gather my bag from the other side of my new SUV. I carry him over to where Harry's at in the grass and drop my bag onto the stoop in front of the door.

"What were you two doing out here?" I ask my child.

"Ball!" He says, pointing to his ball in Harry's hands.

"Do you want me to play?"

He watches me with his bright eyes and points to the ball on the ground. I kick off my shoes by the front stoop and pick up his ball, rolling it along the grass. He runs after it, his arms spread at his sides. Meanwhile, his father comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders and collarbone.

"You've been home for how long and you haven't acknowledged me," he points out needily, his lips by my ear while we watch Max run after the ball and bend down to pick it up with both hands.

"I've been home for, like, one minute."

"And sixty seconds is plenty of time to say hi to your handsome husband."

"Communication goes two ways, babe," I tell him and lean down to Max's height to pluck the ball from his hands. I hover the ball in front of my face and lift it to play peek-a-boo with him. He squeals with joyous giggles and his little fingers lift to his mouth. "Daddy wants me all to himself, buddy, but he needs to know that you're my little man now."

I lift him into my arms and the ball falls. The baby is sandwiched between both of his parents and is swallowed up in love and kisses. When we head inside, Max runs around and chases after me while we all move into our bedroom. Harry sits him down on the bed where Gunther is sleeping peacefully atop Harry's pillow. I get changed out of my work clothes then relax on the bed beside Harry who's resting on his side watching his son stroking the cat's fur with a stiff, flattened hand.

"How was your day at work?" I ask him, relaxing my head on my pillow and coiling our fingers together.

"Lots of meetings," he answers simply.

"So, not great?"

"Eh, it was alright. I'm happy to be home with you and the kids."

Max hobbles unsurely on the bed and right to his father. Harry engulfs him in a giant hug and stands up from the bed. Facing me still relaxing on the mattress, he tips Max upside down and springs him back up to his chest. Max shrieks and giggles, his thin hair flipping around with him. They both look so happy together, like a picture straight from a stock photo of a father and son who appear to be so genuinely fulfilled in life. I love seeing these two together more than anything.

"Should we cook Mummy dinner together?" He asks the baby when Max is upright.

"That would be nice."

I hug my pillow to my chest and watch the pair, completely in love with both of them. There's a gentle knock on the door and when we both look in that direction, Lilly's standing in the doorway dressed up as if she's about to go out somewhere. She has her purse at her side, the bag hitting at her hips that are covered in high-waisted, light-wash jeans. She has a pale yellow t-shirt on that hits just at the top of her jeans and her white shoes on her feet.