The Ex-Husband of Alice Langley

19

TAYLOR SWIFT
After Arlo was born, Alice dropped the news that she and Hunter were planning to move back in together. At first, I was relieved—happy even. It sounded like she was finally moving on with her own family, and I thought it meant she'd be getting her own place, giving us all a little more breathing room. But then, reality hit me. When she said move back together with Hunter, what she really meant was Hunter moving in here, with us. At first I was okay with it because that meant I'd see my grandbabies more.

But now, there are eight of us crammed under one roof. What was once a place of relative calm had turned into a whirlwind of constant noise and motion.

Every morning, there's crying—either from Arlo or Luca—followed by Alice and Hunter's quiet bickering over who's supposed to handle what. Toys are scattered across the floor, and there's always a sippy cup or baby bottle somewhere it shouldn't be. Even Travis, who normally thrives in chaos, is starting to show signs of strain. He's been finding excuses to take extra-long runs or linger in his office, just to get a few moments of peace.

It's hard to remember what the house used to feel like before all this, when we could have a quiet breakfast without stepping on a stray toy or hearing the endless hum of a baby monitor. Now, every corner of the house feels like it's bursting at the seams, with no sign of letting up.

It's chaos. Constant chaos.

Travis leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watches the scene unfolding before us. "You always said you wanted a big family," he says with a knowing smirk, trying to lighten the moment.

I give him an exaggerated eye roll. "Maybe not like this," I reply, my tone tinged with exasperation. It's one thing to dream of a full house, but this is something else entirely.

In the background, Arlo's wailing reaches a fever pitch, his tiny fists balled up in protest. Alice is pacing frantically, her face pale and drawn, dark circles smudged under her eyes like shadows of exhaustion. She's been on edge for weeks, barely getting any sleep, and it shows in every tired movement she makes.

Finally, she breaks. "Mom, I am losing my mind," Alice sobs, her voice trembling as she walks over to me, clutching Arlo to her chest. Her tears fall freely now, and it's heartbreaking to see her so vulnerable. "I—I don't know what he wants. I've tried everything. Hunter is getting diapers and he won't stop crying!"

I stand up from the table, feeling that old, familiar instinct kick in—the same one that kept me going through sleepless nights and fussy babies years ago. "I've done this a couple times. Give him to me," I say gently, holding out my arms.

Alice hesitates for a moment, then hands Arlo over, her hands shaking slightly as she passes him to me. The second he's in my arms, I adjust him, swaying slightly from side to side in that soothing rhythm only a mother knows by heart. His cries begin to soften, just a little.

"See? Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of hands," I whisper, stroking his back in slow, gentle circles.

"I need to—I need sleep. Thank you," Alice mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a reply, she turns and begins to walk away, her steps slow and heavy as if the weight of exhaustion is pulling her down.

"Wait, I never said I would—" I call after her, but Alice is already gone, the door to her bedroom quietly closing behind her.

I sigh, shifting Arlo in my arms, who has settled into a quiet, hiccuping calm, his tiny body relaxing against me. Travis leans back in his chair again, watching Alice disappear down the hallway.

"I guess we're on babysitting duty," he says with a small shrug, though there's no annoyance in his voice, just understanding.

"She needs the sleep," I say, softly bouncing Arlo. "She's been running on fumes for weeks. I'm just glad she finally admitted it."