Voice in the Thunder

22

As expected, Layla crawled into bed with us around midnight. She was running a fever, so I gave her more children's Tylenol and let her curl up with Stevie. We go home in two days, and I already made an appointment with her pediatrician.

"Babe," I mumble against Stevie's shoulder. She has me shoved to the very edge of the bed.

"Blame your daughter," She whispers. I lift my head to look over her at Layla, who is sprawled out taking up half the bed.

"She's sick," I whine, "Leave her alone."

"Can she be sick smaller?"

I have to stifle my laugh against Stevie's arm, swatting her shoulder. She looks at me over her shoulder, her sleepy eyes glinting in the warm morning light.

"Should we be functioning members of the household and get up and make coffee?" I ask, already sitting up.

"No," She whines, rubbing her eyes.

"Okay," I chuckle, heading into the bathroom to shower. I'm rinsing my hair out when I feel her warm arms wrap around my waist.

"Mm," She groans, resting her head on my back. "Why did you get up?"

"Because I need coffee," I answer, turning and tipping my head back to make sure I get the last of the conditioner out. She pouts, peppering light kisses over my collarbone.

"Coconut," She giggles, looking up at me.

"Well, yeah," I laugh. "It's your body wash."

"It's too early for you to be sarcastic."

"Mm, okay. Crabby. I'll have your coffee waiting for you downstairs," I say. She shakes her head, tightening her arms around me.

"Just stay a minute."

I spin so she's under the water, turning her around and dumping some shampoo into my palms. I lather it, running it through her hair. She closes her eyes, a small, contented sigh escaping her. I rinse it out, gathering the ends of her hair and combing through it with my fingers, working the conditioner in.

"I'll see you downstairs," I say softly, kissing her before stepping out of her arms.

I dry off and get dressed in my favorite pair of denim cutoff shorts, slipping on my white halter top. It's low-cut to the point where I know Stevie will be drooling all day. I can't believe we haven't had sex since we've been here. It's almost torture.

I run some mousse through my hair and head downstairs to start the coffee. I sit on the counter sipping my warm coffee, waiting for everyone to start filtering into the kitchen. Stevie breezes into the room, wearing white flowing pants, and a black flowing blouse that, of course, shows her shoulders.

I hand her a cup of fresh coffee, complete with a splash of soy milk and one packet of Splenda. Her hair is blow dried to perfection and falling straight down her back.

"This is good," She says, tipping her mug towards me as she takes a seat at the island.

"Thank you, I've had plenty of practice."

She chuckles, picking up Sulamith and setting her on the counter. It used to bother me, but then I watched Stevie literally wipe her paws off every time she came into the house, and realized it was fine because that was probably one of the cleanest things to go on the counter.

"What are we doing today?" Sharon asks, bouncing into the kitchen.

"I'm probably not doing much besides sitting here with the baby," I say, sliding off the counter. I head into the living room, making myself comfortable on the couch where I'll likely be spending most of my day. I get the TV turned on, propping my feet up on the coffee table.

After a while, Stevie comes to sit beside me, settling her head in lap. I stroke her hair, looking down when she laughs at something on TV. To be honest, I'm barely watching it. I help Layla onto the couch when she comes downstairs, her immediately wanting to cuddle, forcing Stevie to sit up. She lays back against the arm, holding her arms out for me and Layla. I happily settle in against Stevie, Layla sprawled across my chest, holding her security blanket tightly to her.

We spend our last two days in Italy like this, on the couch with a fussy Layla. Her doctors appointment is for tomorrow, which was the soonest I could get her in. She once again needs antibiotics.

"How is she?" Stevie asks when I come into the bedroom. She's unpacking. I flop onto the bed, covering my face with my hands.

"Fussy. Hopefully she'll feel a little better in the morning."

Stevie nods, closing her suitcase and climbing into bed beside me.

"You look tense, babe," She mutters, leaning in and pushing my hair out of my face. I close my eyes, letting out a soft sigh when she kisses me.

"Don't start something we might not be able to finish. I don't think I could take it again," I say, tipping my head back when she trails light kisses down my neck.

"I fully intend to make you finish, don't you worry about it, angel girl," She says, a wicked smirk on her face. I moan when she kisses me roughly, her hand wasting no time in sliding under my shirt.

"Stevie," I sigh softly, my eyes fluttering closed as she slowly inches my shirt over my head, her lips trailing lightly down my throat and collarbone.

"Tell me what you want, Alina," She whispers, pulling back just enough for her lips to barely brush against mine. I gasp, panting already. She hasn't even touched me yet, and I'm about to unravel.

"Momma!" Layla wails.

"Oh, Jesus," I mutter, closing my eyes. Stevie sighs, closing her eyes and sitting up. I pull my shirt back on, on the verge of tears.

"Baby, I'll get her," Stevie says, taking my face in her hands. "It's alright."

"Thanks," I sniffle, hiding my face in my hands. I feel like such a shitty mom right now. I'm annoyed with my sick daughter for interrupting something. I sob quietly into my hands, shaking my head.

"Honey," Stevie says softly, wrapping her arms around me. "Shh, it's okay. She just needed water."

"I'm sorry," I sniffle, looking up at her. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."

"I know. It's okay, babe. Just get some rest," She soothes, laying down and cradling my head to her chest. "It's been a long few days. Just close your eyes, angel. Everything will be better in the morning."

I nod, wrapping my arms around her tightly and nuzzling as far into her as I can. She somehow has the power to make everything better.