Relapse

2 - Percy

Annabeth isn't in bed when I wake up the next morning. I go to put my arm around her and am met by an empty space. My head hurts, and I can tell I'm hungover. I hardly drink, but when I do I try not to drink much. I don't want to end up hurting Annabeth or the kids.

And that's exactly what I didn't do last night.

I get up and put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. I can't help myself, and I pop the fake bottom out of my nightstand and pull out the pearl ring I was going to propose to Annabeth with last night.

Why didn't you do it? I scold myself. It was the perfect opportunity and you screwed it up again! How many times are you going to do this?

The first time I tried to propose to Annabeth was on her 21st birthday. That was over a year ago. I've tried God knows how many times since then. I've set up romantic dinners, family events, nights out, even just cuddling on the couch and I never find my perfect moment. Not only my perfect moment, but Annabeth's perfect moment, too.

I don't even know if she wants marriage. We've never talked about it before. What if she just wants to be boyfriend and girlfriend forever? What if she says no and I make a fool out of myself and she can never look at me the same way again? Is this what anxiety feels like?

I put the ring back and make my way into the kitchen. The twins are sitting at the bartop, Nutella and powdered sugar smeared all over their faces, and Annabeth is standing at the counter taking a waffle out of the waffle iron. I come up beside her and put my hand on her hip and she puts her face up to kiss me. "Good morning," I say to her.

"Morning," she smiles and cuts up some strawberries.

"Eeewww," Sia says. "You guys are gross."

"You'll understand when you fall in love one day, Si," Annabeth teases.

"I'm never gonna fall in love. Love is gross, and so is kissing."

I laugh. "Okay, Sugar." I kiss her vibrant red hair. "You need to eat those strawberries," I say, gesturing to the ones she took off her waffle.

"Strawberries are gross too."

"No they're not!" Rainer shouts. "Strawberries are the best!"

"Everybody likes different things, Ray," I explain. "But Si needs to eat them if she wants another waffle."

"Mom only ever gives us half anyways."

Annabeth whirls around. "Where did you learn the world 'half'?" Annabeth asks.

"It's easy," she said. "If you cut something into two even pieces, it's half. You always cut one waffle into two and give me one half and Ray the other."

I stare at her, dumbfounded, and Annabeth does the same. We're surprised every time they say something intelligent. They've always been smart and early bloomers. You'd never guess they were 4 by the way they talk. They got Annabeth's brains and my looks.

"That's very good!" Annabeth says after a second. "But you still need to eat the strawberries."

"Dang it." She quickly shoves the berries into her mouth and swallows them without chewing.

"Don't do that," I scold. "You're gonna choke."

"You know dad," Rainer says, "it's actually more better if you tell us what to do instead of what not to do."

"It's also more better if you don't say 'more' and just say 'better.'" I remark, kissing his head as well. His hair is starting to get lighter, blonder, while Sia's remains the same as it's always been; a deep, dark, cherry red color. The color my grandma's hair was when she was young. I've seen pictures.

The waffle iron beeps. "Percy, your waffle's done." Annabeth goes to take the waffle out of the iron and spread Nutella on it.

"Wise Girl, let me do that." I try to grab the knife from her. "You sit down. I'll make you one, too."

"No way," she says. "I already had one, I'll be fine."

"Don't you have to get ready for work?" I ask.

"I don't work until noon." It's only 8:30 now. Being parents has made us adjust to going to bed around 10 and waking up at 6 or sometimes even earlier. I have to watch the kids today, since it's Saturday and daycare is closed.

"I don't care," I say. "Go sit. I'll do this."

"Nope. You."

I groan. "Why do you need to be so stubborn?"

"Why do you have to be so chivalrous?"

"I don't know what that means but I'm assuming it's a compliment. Now get out of the kitchen, woman."

"Don't you know?" She smirks up at me. "The kitchen is a woman's sacred area." She holds up my waffle, covered in Nutella, powdered sugar, and strawberry and banana slices.

"Did you do that all while you distracted me?"

"Sure did."

I smile and take the plate. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yeah, yeah." She goes back to what she was doing and I sit by the kids. Most Saturday mornings are like this, with waffles and talk. It's what I've become accustomed to. It's what makes this place my home.