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Rachel sighs and turns on her heel. I stifle a chuckle as she stomps up the stairs, shouting, “I’m working on it!”
Alex gives me an annoyed look while Hunter sighs. “If you need us,” Hunter starts while edging toward the couch, “we will be in the living room, reading a very interesting tale about a mouse and a cookie.”
“Has she been like this all day?” I ask Alex when Rachel is far enough away.
His irritated nod is all I need as answer.
“I’ll handle it,” I say with a sigh, trudging up the steps and toward Rachel’s room.
Honestly, we all should have expected this. Rachel hasn’t taken a trip in nearly a year. This is her first time spending a weekend away from Maria. I’m sure preparing for the trip was stressful enough for her, and now she has to deal with being an hour away, worried something might go wrong. It might be too soon for her, and if it is, we all need to support Rachel and put the trip on hold.
“Rachel,” I say softly while knocking on her door.
The door is cracked, so I push it open when she doesn’t answer. Rachel is throwing different things into her giant suitcase. I don’t even think she sees what she’s putting inside. Tentatively, I step toward her, frowning when I see she’s packed several different swimsuits and at least five dresses with different matching bras and underwear.
“Is everything okay?” I ask when she huffs and stomps around me toward her closet.
“No,” she groans, her back still facing me as she tilts her back, looking up at the ceiling.
I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close so I can bury my face into her neck. “It will be fine,” I whisper, breathing her scent in, letting it fill my lungs.
“How do you know?” Rachel whispers, her voice wavering.
“Because I know Hunter and Lucas. They would never let anything bad happen to Maria. Besides,” I add while turning her around to face me, “Maria knows the both of them. She will be fine. It’s better than leaving her with a babysitter.”
Rachel nods, but her gaze doesn’t meet mine. She’s staring at something in the distance, her eyes glazed over as if she’s making a list of all the things that could go wrong—of all the things that she should do to ensure nothing happens.
“We don’t have to go,” I say while stroking her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
Her gaze lifts and her frown deepens as she says, “But I want to go.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You don’t look like you want to go.”
“But I do.” Rachel’s shoulders slump and she sticks out her bottom lip. “I feel guilty for wanting to leave. Like I’m being a bad mom.”
“You could never be a bad mom.”
Rachel’s lips tremble, her eye glistening with unshed tears. “How do you know?”
“Because you worry so much. Because you desperately want to be a good mom. Bad moms wouldn’t be as invested in their kids as you are.”
A tear slips from Rachel’s eye and I catch it with a finger, quickly wiping it away. “I will do whatever you want to do, Rachel. We can stay, or we can go. But, just so you know, you’re not a bad mom if you want a weekend to yourself. You’ve been working your ass off these past few months. You deserve a break.”
I tilt my head, smiling down at her, wondering how I got lucky enough to have her stumble into my arms all those years ago. Especially when I had been such an asshole. And now we have a kid together. It still amazes me.
“You don’t need to feel guilty, Rachel,” I whisper while pressing my forehead against hers. “But I have a feeling Alex is going to be shouting in about five minutes, wondering what’s taking so long, so you should probably make a decision soon.”
Rachel chuckles. “You’re probably right.”
“I usually am.”
Rachel shakes her head. “Fine. I’m going. And you’d better get packing. I don’t want to be breathing in your underwear stink all weekend.”
With a final brush of my lips against her forehead, I finally release her and make my way into my own bedroom. I begin sifting through the pile of dirty clothes littering the floor, excited for the weekend, and happy to know I could be there for Rachel.
