The babysitter

Interrupted

Lucy was out of the car before Tim had even come to a complete stop in their driveway. Her heart was pounding with the kind of panic that only a parent could understand—that primal fear that something was wrong with her children and she wasn't there to protect them.

"Lucy, wait—" Tim called after her, but she was already running toward the front door in her heels, her navy dress hampering her stride.

The combination of adrenaline, panic, and impractical footwear proved to be Lucy's downfall—literally. Her heel caught on an uneven section of their walkway, and she went down hard, her palms scraping against the concrete as she tried to break her fall.

"Damn it," she muttered, not even pausing to assess the damage. She kicked off both heels right there on the walkway and scrambled back to her feet, ignoring the sharp sting in her palms and the throbbing in her ankle where she'd twisted it.

"Lucy!" Tim's voice was sharp with concern, but she was already at the front door, her hands shaking as she tried to get her key in the lock.

The door swung open to reveal their living room bathed in the soft glow of the lamp they always left on, but something felt off. It was too quiet—the kind of unnatural quiet that came when children who should be making noise weren't.

"Tamara?" Lucy called out, her voice tight with worry.

Tamara appeared from the hallway, her phone pressed to her ear, her expression serious but not panicked. "I'll call you back," she said into the phone before hanging up and turning to Lucy. "They're both okay," she said immediately, reading the terror in Lucy's eyes. "They're sleeping now."

"What happened?" Lucy demanded, already moving toward the hallway that led to the children's bedrooms. "You said something was wrong—"

"They both got sick about an hour after you left," Tamara explained, following Lucy down the hall. "Emma started first—said her stomach hurt, then threw up. Then Evan started fussing and had the same symptoms. I think it might have been something they ate."

Lucy pushed open Emma's bedroom door to find her daughter sleeping peacefully, though her face was still a little flushed. She moved to the bed and gently pressed her hand to Emma's forehead, checking for fever.

"Her temperature was a little elevated earlier, but it's come down," Tamara said quietly. "I gave her some children's Tylenol and stayed with her until she fell back asleep. Evan's fever broke about twenty minutes ago."

Lucy moved to Evan's room next, her maternal instincts still in overdrive despite Tamara's reassurances. The baby was sleeping soundly in his crib, his breathing even and calm. Lucy's hand hovered over him, not quite touching but close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest.

"I called the pediatric nurse line," Tamara continued, keeping her voice low. "They said it sounds like a mild stomach bug—probably something that will pass in twenty-four hours. Both kids are keeping fluids down now, and their fevers have broken."

Tim appeared in the doorway, having finally caught up. His eyes immediately went to Lucy, taking in her disheveled appearance and the way she was favoring her right ankle.

"Are they okay?" he asked quietly.

"They're sleeping," Lucy said, finally allowing herself to breathe normally for the first time since Tamara's phone call. "Stomach bug."

"I'm really sorry to cut your date night short," Tamara said, gathering her things from the living room. "I know how much you both needed that time together. But I thought you'd want to know, especially when Emma started asking for her mom."

"You did the right thing," Lucy assured her, though she was still obviously shaken. "Thank you for taking such good care of them."

"Of course. They're my family too." Tamara paused at the front door, looking between Tim and Lucy. "Lucy, you're bleeding."

Lucy looked down at her hands for the first time since her fall, noticing the scrapes on her palms that were indeed bleeding, along with what was probably going to be a spectacular bruise on her knee.

"I fell running up the walkway," Lucy admitted sheepishly.

"In heels," Tim added, his tone a mixture of exasperation and affection. "Because of course you did."

"I'll leave you two to play doctor," Tamara said with a small smile. "Call me if you need anything else. I can come back tomorrow if the kids are still sick."

After Tamara left, Tim guided Lucy to their bathroom, his hands gentle on her shoulders. "Sit," he instructed, gesturing to the closed toilet seat. "Let me look at those hands."

"The kids—" Lucy started to protest.

"Are sleeping peacefully. Emma's fever is down, Evan's breathing is normal, and you heard Tamara—the nurse line said it's just a stomach bug. They're okay, Lucy."

Lucy finally allowed herself to sit, the adrenaline starting to wear off and making her aware of how much her various injuries actually hurt. Tim knelt in front of her, carefully taking her hands in his and examining the scrapes.

"These need to be cleaned," he said gently, reaching for the first aid kit they kept in the bathroom cabinet. "And your ankle is already swelling."

"I panicked," Lucy admitted quietly as Tim dabbed antiseptic on her palms. "I heard 'something is wrong' and I just... I couldn't get to them fast enough."

"I know," Tim said, his voice full of understanding. "I was right behind you, ready to do the exact same thing. Parental panic doesn't care about practical footwear."

Lucy winced as the antiseptic stung, but she was more focused on Tim's gentle care than the pain. "I ruined our date night."

"You didn't ruin anything," Tim said firmly, applying bandages to her palms with the same precision he used for everything else. "Our kids needed us. That's what parents do."

"But we needed that time together," Lucy said, frustrated with herself and the situation. "And now you're patching me up in our bathroom instead of sharing dessert at a romantic restaurant."

Tim finished with her hands and moved to examine her ankle, his touch careful and professional. "Lucy, look at me."

She met his eyes, seeing nothing but love and understanding there.

"There will be other date nights," he said simply. "There will be other romantic dinners and uninterrupted conversations. But our kids are only going to be little once, and they're only going to need us this desperately for a short time. I'd rather be here, taking care of you after you literally ran to them, than anywhere else in the world."

Lucy felt tears prick at her eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion, residual worry, and the depth of love she felt for this man who always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.

"Besides," Tim added with a slight grin as he wrapped an elastic bandage around her ankle, "watching you run in heels was pretty impressive. Stupid, but impressive."

"Shut up," Lucy said, but she was smiling now. "Next time I'm wearing sneakers to dinner."

"Next time, we're checking the weather, traffic reports, and making sure both kids have been healthy for at least 72 hours before we leave the house," Tim replied, helping her to her feet.

"Deal," Lucy agreed, leaning into his support as they made their way back to check on the children one more time before bed.

Their perfect date night might have been cut short, but somehow, taking care of each other and their family felt just as romantic as any fancy restaurant could have been.