Page 40 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

FOX

I wake at a little before nine the next morning, long after my usual seven—New York time—and sit up with a start. Gulping for fresh air, I search the apartment for all the things that feel different.

All the things that feel off.

But then I bring my focus down again, to the man lying flat against my mattress, his belly pressed to the bed and the ends of his hair tangling with his lashes. He sleeps silently, his plump lips pressed into kissable lines and his soft breathing almost as gentle as a lullaby.

Jesus. He’s perfect and has no clue.

His leg drapes over mine, his arm lying heavily across my hips. He’s naked as the day he was born. His muscular ass on show and his broad back, a delicious canvas to stare at and study… any other day.

But not today.

It’s a school day!

Frantic, I twist and snatch up my phone, jumping to my call log so I can call Alana and beg for her forgiveness, but I catch Tommy’s name in my text inbox first, his messages—three of them.

I think you might’ve forgotten something, New York. Don’t stress it. I’ll drive Franky today, since I’m heading to the gym after anyway.

Alana thinks you and I made that deal already, so don’t admit you forgot. It’ll hurt her feelings, and she’s deep in the post-baby hormone surge. She finally had a good sleep, so whatever you do, don’t ruin her mood.

And then finally,

Alana says she’s up to exploring outside the house today.

Which means she and Hazel are on their way to you.

Remember what I said about school drop-off.

You’re still the perfect best friend who could never step wrong.

No need to admit you’re human now. Probably shouldn’t hit an eight o’clock movie on a school night, though. Franky’s tired, too.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I toss my phone and smack Chris’ ass. “Wake up!”

He startles, pushing up to his elbows and looking straight ahead through squinting, unfocused eyes. “What?”

“Get up!” I throw his leg off and roll off the bed, bending and snatching up his jeans and shorts. “Get up, Chris! You have to go.”

“The hell is wrong?” He searches the room in a daze, glancing toward the window and crushing his eyes closed. “Time is it?”

“It’s nearly nine!”

Finally, his eyes snap open. “What?”

“We slept in. Like, a lot !” I sprint to my open suitcase and dig out a pair of underwear, pulling them up my legs and settling the band over my hips. Then I look for a shirt.

Chris slumps back to the bed with a huff. “Can’t be nine. I don’t sleep that long.”

“You did today! And now Alana’s on her way here.”

He pushes up again, meerkat style, and far more alert this time around. “What?”

“Get dressed!” I drag my shirt over my head and down to cover my torso, and running back to the bed, I grab his boxers and toss them at his chest. “There is literally no story we can tell Alana that would explain this away. Get dressed and leave. Now!”

Finally, he bounds out of bed and stumbles, tripping over his boots. He tears his boxers up one leg, hopping to get the silk up the other. “She’s coming here? When?”

“I don’t know! Soon. Tommy said?—”

“Fox?” Alana knocks on my door, the jingle of her keys like a storm siren screaming across a silent town. “You awake?”

“Oh my God!” I grab his jeans and shirt, balling and slamming them to his chest, then I fist his hair and shove him down . “Under the bed,” I hiss. “Get under the friggin’ bed!”

“Are you insane? Fox, I can’t?—”

“Now!” I find pockets of strength and slam the monstrous fighter down. Then tossing my blankets over the bed so it looks half decent, I make damn sure the covers drape all the way to the floor and hide the guy almost too long to fit without curling up on himself.

He releases a grunt, smacking his… something on the frame. A shoulder, maybe, but when the lock tumbles open on my front door, I spin and sit, straight spine and a fake smile plastered on my face so I’m ready when Alana steps through.

“Hey!” I’m still in my underwear. Just a shirt.

No bra. Standing again, I stalk across the apartment and help her with her million things, pulling an overloaded diaper bag off one arm, then scooping Hazel’s heavy car seat from her other hand until her tired frame is…

well, a little less weighed down. “You look more rested than last night.” I turn into the room and set the bag on the floor by my suitcase, and placing Hazel’s seat down, I unsnap her restraints, feeding her sweet little arms through the straps and lifting her out.

“You fell asleep at the table.” I turn and watch with my heart in my throat as she silently, robotically, wanders toward my bed. “Uh… you doing okay, honey?”

She sits right where I sat a moment ago, dropping her posture and exhaling a long, noisy breath. “I slept all night, and I still feel like I could sleep for a year.”

“You’re recovering from having a baby.” I choke on my tongue and lock eyes with Chris’, his nose just inches from Alana’s foot. “It hasn’t even been a week yet, Lan. You’re almost over the worst of it.”

“I forgot how rough the hormones are.” She brings sad, sleepy eyes to mine, the whites shining a light pink, like she’s been crying…

or perhaps needs to cry. “I forgot how cruel it all is, tearing ourselves apart, making our bodies available to a baby to eat from. Then we have the massive hormone dump, and even with the world’s sweetest, most attentive partner, I’m still waking every two hours through the night.

” She pouts. “Prisoners of war are treated more humanely than this. ”

“Aw.” I cough out a soft, amused snicker, and carrying baby Hazel with me, I wander to the coffee machine some wonderful soul had placed in here before I arrived. “You need caffeine, babes. You need a pick-me-up like your life depends on it.”

“I need a reminder next time I consider having a baby that, no, I probably shouldn’t. No more sex for me. No more sex ever.”

I snort, juggling the baby in just one hand while I place a mug under the Keurig spout with the other. “Sex is fun, though. Doesn’t always have to end with a baby.”

“Sex is really, really fun,” she sulks, slumping, and, without paying true attention to what the hell she’s doing, she grabs my bottle of lube and studies the label as though it’s as ordinary as a bottle of soda.

Or shampoo. “Sex with Tommy is like… It used to be a lot of fun. But now I have stitches that go from my butthole to my vagina, and I’m honestly not sure I’ll let that poor man touch me ever again. ”

In pain, Chris’ eyes glitter and strain, his hands clamping over his ears.

My cheeks blaze bright, bright red. I feel the warmth.

“Well…” I cough out a nervous laugh. “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. Tommy will be patient, and your stitches will eventually go away. Your vagina will go back to its normal shape, and life will go on.”

Chris shakes his head. No, no, no, no, no, no. Please make it stop.

“You don’t need to worry about sex right now, Lan.

Your body is not ready, and even if your vagina was fine, you still have a giant, gaping wound inside of you where Hazel was just a week ago.

Focus on you and on healing, and everything else will work out.

” I walk to the fridge and take out a carton of creamer, and since it’s good for her breastmilk, I add a little extra to Alana’s mug.

“Is there a reason you came by today, or did you just need some girl time?”

Tears well up in her eyes and spill onto her cheeks. “Do I need a reason? Can’t I just want to see my best friend without a gold-etched invitation?”

“Of course, you can come without a reason.” I’ve lived this one-week-postpartum-Alana before, so I stroll back to the bed and sit down beside her, leaning across to place her coffee on the bedside table.

“You’re welcome in my life any day of the week, sweetpea.

You never have to call or ask for permission. ”

“I just love you so much,” she cries. “And last time I did this, we were practically living together. You saved my life, and I love you so much for it. But now I’m basically married to Tommy, and I love him, too.

But I miss you ! I miss you being in my bed sometimes, and I miss staying up late with you, watching a movie, even though I was tired, since I knew Franky would be awake at midnight anyway, so we waited up for that feed together, then we all slept for a few blissful hours. ”

“You’re talking in really long sentences, babe. You understand this is your hormones, right? You’re experiencing the baby blues, and that’s why you feel this way.”

“I feel this way because I miss you!” Sobbing, she wraps her arm over my shoulder and rests her cheek against mine.

Then she hisses in pain. Ouch . “I wish New York and Plainview were the same place. I wish we lived in the same town again, ‘cos I don’t want to move away from Tommy, but you don’t want to move away from New York.

Now my heart is torn in two, and I’m the baby. ”

“The baby?”

“Solomon’s baby!” Her chest heaves from her stuttered breaths, her lungs spasming for air. “Didn’t Solomon tear his baby in half?”

“Uh…” I grit my teeth. “I’m not sure, sweetie. I never went to Sunday school.”

“I’m pretty sure,” she hiccups. “I’m pretty sure that’s what the story was about! Neither parent loved the baby more than they hated the other, so they tore it in half. Now you’re in New York, and I’m here, and Tommy’s here, and I love Chris, too!”

Good. If nothing else, I’m glad he gets to hear her say so during her hormonal rant.

“You don’t have to worry about Solomon or the baby, sweetie. Because I’m not tearing you. I’ll never beg you to choose me.”

“I’m begging you to choose me!” She brings devastated eyes around, trembling jaw and shaking lips. “I want to co-parent my baby girl with you, the same way I co-parented Franky with you. And I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry?”