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“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I wiped the mascara rolling down my face with a stained burp cloth. I hadn’t put on makeup in two weeks, but for some reason, it kept magically appearing across my cheeks. Freshly fed, I passed a milk-drunk Iris off to Julian.
“I don’t think I’ve seen anything that could compare.” She stole Iris from Julian’s arms before he could straighten from his crouched position. His mother had flown in less than forty-eight hours ago from New Jersey, and I already never wanted her to leave.
Quirking his lips, he sat beside me and folded an arm across my thigh. “I still can’t believe she’s here. I imagined it, but reality blows it away.”
“Nothing will ever compare, son. This will stay with you forever.” She smirked, and casted a glance at Ryker, sprawled out in the recliner. “Regardless of how many loveable and amazing children you have.”
“Nice save, Ma,” Ryker called out in a sleepy voice. His baseball hat pulled low, he grinned and turned his cheek.
“Oh, stop it, you know what I meant.” Brushing her lips across Iris’s fuzzy head, she eyed me closely. “Why don’t you two get dressed and go out somewhere alone? Ryker and I can watch her.”
Watching Julian’s face, I knew immediately what his answer would be. He threw his head against the back of the couch and sighed. “Mom, I appreciate it, but we need to stay here. Phoebe’s tired and assembling security and dodging paparazzi isn’t worth the hassle.”
I quirked my mouth.
Just shut it, Phoebe. Don’t speak.
“Why don’t you ask Phoebe what she wants?” A warning cloud settled over Eliza’s face.
Rolling his eyes, he turned to me. “Is that what you want?”
Absolutely. Especially when you make it so enticing, jackass.
“No,” I whispered. “It’s fine. I still have gum in my hair”
“See, Mom?”
“Bullshit,” Eliza declared, handing Iris over to Julian. “She’s so flustered, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. Plus,” she shot him an accusing glare, “you’re not helping by being a giant douche sack.”
“Bag, Ma,” Ryker called out under the confines of his baseball hat. “It’s douchebag. If you’re gonna talk street, learn the lingo, man.”
Eliza waved a hand. “Phoebe needs to get out.” She pointed a finger at Julian. “I’m taking her to get her hair done and then you’re taking her to dinner. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Julian barely stifled a grin. He squeezed my knee, his eyes glinting with a hint of danger that always melted me. “You okay with all this?”
“Sure.” Getting out sounded like a dream. “Reclining in a salon sounds like the perfect nap.”
***
A light rap on the door tore me from my thoughts. “Phoebe? Are you ready?”
Opening the door, Eliza’s warm, smiling face greeted me. “I guess so. I feel like a total moron. I don’t know how they’re going to fix this.”
Putting a hand on my shoulder, she guided me toward the front door. “I’m guessing you’ll come out looking even better.” She closed the door behind her. “If that’s possible.”
I’d never had a problem accepting compliments before, but postpartum hormones had my emotions all wonky. “Trust me, nothing could make me look worse than I already do.”
She started the car and shot me a quizzical look. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
“If you’re talking about my chipmunk cheeks and three-ton ass, yeah, I see it.”
Backing out of the driveway, she shook her head. A small smile ghosted her youthful face. “I know this sounds cliché, and hell, maybe it is, but I’ve never seen a more beautiful mother in my life.”
I turned away from her. It killed me to keep secrets from her. Especially now. Julian and I weren’t exactly communicating, and my nightmares had started again in vivid detail.
A shoulder was exactly what I needed to unload some of the anxiety I carried around. Confiding in her—to finally admit I needed another female in my life who understood the anxiety…the fear…the exhilaration of having a baby—tempted me toward confession.
“Eliza?”
