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I was almost there, on the precipice of my orgasm, until the unmistakable voice of my son broke through. “Mama. Mama.”
“Is that Tristan?”
I couldn’t help groaning. The timing couldn’t be worse. “Um, yeah. Give it a minute. Maybe he’s only dreaming.” I grabbed the monitor, hoping to see him back fast asleep. Instead, he was standing in his crib, waiting.
“Maaaaaaammmmmmaaaaa”
“Um, I need to go check on him. He’s standing up.”
There was a smile in Mark’s voice. “Make sure you put some clothes on first.”
Right. Shit. I scrambled into my sweatpants, pulled a sweatshirt over my head, and paused. “Hold, please.” I used my office voice, causing him to laugh.
I made a quick detour to wash my hands—because masturbation and mommy-mode did not mix—and then walked to Tristan’s room. I tried not to think of the love of my life as a total cock block. Bad, bad mommy.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked, opening his door.
He stood in the corner waiting on me. “I wet.”
I felt his PJs and sighed. They were indeed soaked. “Aww, you sure are. Straight through the diaper.”
Okay. I needed to get him cleaned up and then change the bed. None of which was conducive to phone sex with Mark on hold in the other room.
Picking up my son, I placed him on his changing table and stripped him of his clothes, afterward running a wipe over his skin to get him at least semi-cleanish. I then put him into a dry diaper before carrying him into my room and onto the bed. One second too late, I realized the vibrator was still sitting in the middle of everything.
Mother-of-the-year material right here.
I scooped it up quickly, put it into the drawer, and huffed out a breath. “Mark. Uh, I’m going to need a raincheck. I’m sorry. He was soaked through. Although I changed him, I still need to put clean sheets on his bed.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Mark, Mark.” Tristan recognized his voice and grabbed for the phone.
“Hey, Tristan. How are you?”
From phone sex to talking to a toddler. I let Tristan babble on for a bit but then intervened. “Okay, baby. Say goodnight. I’ve gotta change your bed, and you need to go back to sleep.”
“’Night ‘night.”
“’Night, buddy.”
“Good night, Mark.”
“’Night, Jules.”
If I’d needed a reminder of the order of my life, this was it. First mom, then everything else.
