Moving from Chicago to New York as a single mother, hoping that your new business does well, is scary. But what happens when you find out your best friends new husband is the leader of something even scarier, and the only person who seems to give yo...
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What is that?
What is that weight on top of me?
I blink my eyes open to be met with the bright sun lighting up the room. I groan and shut my eyes, trying to roll over and bury my face in the pillow, but the weight on top of me prevents me from doing so.
I glance down at my chest to be met with a face full of Mikhails fluffy, black, morning hair. It's sticking up all over the place, unlike the normal pristine way it always is.
I run my hand through it, and it's just as soft as I imagined it would be.
"Mikhail." I whisper, and softly continue to brush my fingers through his hair. "Mikhail." I say a little louder. He continues to just lay on top of me, practically crushing me to death.
I sigh and look at the clock on the bedside table to see that it's 3 o'clock. We haven't been asleep for long, maybe a half hour, but I have somewhere to go today.
"Hey." I poke his forehead hard, "wake up, Mickey."
He groans and buries his head in between my breasts, "stop calling me that." He grumbles.
"Well your name is hard to come up with nicknames for. Plus you let Asteria call you if."
"She's the only exception." His eyes flutter open and he glances up at me.
"Well damn. I'm hurt." I fake pout, "I think you like my daughter more then me."
"Well she does keep me company when I'm working in my office, and she colors me lots of pictures." I smile at his words.
"Speaking of Asteria." I wiggle underneath him trying to get out but he just wraps him arms around me tighter. "Mikhail, I have to take her to the doctors in an hour, so your gonna have to let go of me."
"What's wrong? Is she okay?" His face is filled with worry.
"Um." I sigh, "I scheduled this appointment to get some answers. I want to help my daughter the best I can, and I know something is bothering her and making her life difficult. So I want a doctor to say the words I think he will say, I just need to hear him say them."
"What do you think he will say?" He asks.
"Um," I hesitate to tell him, "I don't want to be wrong because I want to help her and make things easier for her, but I believe she might be on the spectrum."
He doesn't seem surprised by my words, instead his eyes soften and he nods his head.
"I'm not gonna lie. When you thanked me for helping out with her, that night you left, and you told me about all the things she struggles with, I did do some research. I couldn't get it off my mind, and I did a ton of extensive research, staying up late just because I wanted to help you out."
He pauses and I nod my head for him to keep going, "and I came to the same conclusion, that she might be on the spectrum."
My eyes water as I look down at the man I've known for barely two months, the man who has changed my life and my daughters life for the better.
