Page 106 of Better Daddy

To keep myself from blurting every one of those suggestions and going over the list of reasons why I think she should quit her job—which will only raise my wife’s blood pressure—I turn on music.

Sloane slumps against her seat and closes her eyes, mumbling along with “Don’t Stop Believin’,” every word wrong, as usual. As I head through the Lincoln Tunnel, my heart squeezes impossibly tight. I love this woman so goddamn much. When we finally pull up to the building in Jersey, she’s sound asleep. I, on the other hand, am wound tighter than a bowstring, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I guide her inside and lead her straight to bed. Minutes after I’ve helped her change and tucked her in, she’s out cold.

Only then do I rush out of the flat andstomp up the steps to Madame E’s place. It’s early. Not even dinnertime, but even if it were two a.m., I’d have no qualms about bothering her. The woman inserted herself in our lives, so she only has herself to blame. Now I can’t do a goddamn thing without wondering what Madame E knows.

The door swings open with a flourish, and she appears, totally at ease and dressed in one of her typical flowing dresses with a gold belt that jangles around her waist. “Good evening, Sullivan. Sebastian and I have been expecting you.” She waves behind her to the ghost she alleges lives in our building.

I sneer. I can’t help it. I’m too out of sorts to even hide my disdain for the ridiculousness she brings to every interaction.

Am I really asking a woman who believes in ghosts for advice on my wife’s medical condition?

Then I remember the way Sloane’s hands trembled this afternoon in the doctor’s office and shake off any hesitation. “Tell me my wife and baby will be okay.”

Madame E’s expression softens. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll put a pot of tea on and we can chat.”

“What do you know?” I plead. I can’t just sit around. I need todosomething.

The older woman frowns. “Sully, I only?—”

“If you say you only see what you see, I’m going to lose it.”

She shakes her head like she’s at a loss, but footsteps on the stairs behind me catch our attention before she can respond.

Fuck. If I turn around and there’s no one there, I really will get on the Madame E and Sebastian are real train. I turn around, and when my brother and Brian approach the landing, I breathe out a relieved breath. They’re peering up at me with worried expressions, like they’ve heard our entire interaction.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Do you want to come in for tea?” Madame E offers.

Brian shakes his head. “Another time. Come on, Sul. Let’s let Madame E enjoy her evening.”

I nod woodenly, suddenly feeling foolish, and follow them downstairs. It isn’t until the door to our flat is shut behind us that I even take a breath.

“Want a beer?” Brian asks as he heads toward the fridge.

I survey the living room. “Where’s Lo?”

“Reading to the boys.” Cal picks up a table tennis ball and tosses it in the air. “Want to tell us why you’re such a broody dudey?”

Brian returns with three beers, tops all off, and hands one to me. I tip it back and drink half of it in one go. Not because I need the drink, but because I need the time to collect my thoughts. It’s hard to explain this sensation inside my chest, the way I feel like if I don’t hold on tight to what I have and make the exact right moves, I’ll lose everything.

They wait me out, though Cal continues to toss the ball in the air.

I finally lean forward and snatch it.

To my surprise, he doesn’t stop me and he doesn’t complain. Bollocks. He must be really worried about me.

“The doctor said her amniotic fluid is on the low side and her blood pressure is higher than she’d like.”

Cal’s eyes widen, but Brian simply nods, the calm in every storm.

“Does that mean bed rest?” Cal asks, all teasing and walkie-talkie jokes long forgotten.

“She doesn’t want that,” I grumble.

“The doctor or Sloane? If it’s Sloane, we can talk to her. Lo can talk to her.” My brother stands like he’s about to interrupt story time.

I yank him back down. “The doctor. She said Sloane needs to take it easy, but she doesn’t need bed rest. Not yet.”