I shift in the tub, looking down at the bubbles.
I really want to cuddle with Shane. I wonder if he's still awake.
I know he was in bed when I told him I was going to take a bath.
I left the door open. Everyone is sleeping, and Owen is fast asleep in his bed.
"Shane?" I call.
No answer.
I start pouting, because he's asleep.
A moment later though, he walks into the bathroom.
"What's up?" he asks.
"Nothing." I say. "I just wanted to know if you were awake because I want to cuddle."
"Oh." He says. He sits down on the floor in front of the tub, resting his arms on the edge.
I've already washed. He sits there while I relax.
After a while, I get out, drying off.
I wander into the bedroom naked after I towel dry my hair, and I go right to his dresser.
I ditch underwear and just grab a pair of his boxers, and a get one of his shirts and climb into my side of the bed.
He climbs into his side, laying his head on my chest, his arms wrapped around me.
I run my fingers through his hair.
"I love you." I murmur.
"I love you too." He shifts, kissing me over my heart through my shirt.
<><>
I yawn, shifting, reaching across the bed for my husband.
My hand brushes against skin.
It's not him though. The limb I'm grabbing is much smalled than an arm.
I peek my eyes open, and they land on Owen's face.
He smiles.
"Hi Mommy."
I smile.
"Hi Owen." I whisper. "Where's Daddy?"
"He's downstairs. He told me to come tell you that Auntie and Danny are fighting."
Auntie is Tori.
"They're fighting?" I repeat.
"Yeah." He says.
"About what honey? Did Daddy tell you?"
He shakes his head.
"Nope. I'm gonna go have pancakes. I love you Momma."
"I love you too sweetie." I kiss his forehead.
He walks out.
I lay there for a second.
I can hear them screaming at each other outside.
I get up, changing from Shane's boxers and his t-shirt into a gray pushup bra, a gray t-shirt, a gray thong, and just a pair of jeans.
They're tight. Everything is tight.
I go into the bathroom and brush my hair and teeth, and then I wander downstairs.
My family looks stressed out.
Everyone does, but my family looks the most stressed.
Everyone is in the kitchen.
"What are they fighting about?" I ask.
