Page 173 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“But what?” I prompt.
He looks at me and sighs. “I thought it would be us first, you know.”
“Spencer—”
“I’m not saying that to guilt you or anything. It’s just the truth.” He drops a hand to the sand and fists the grains before letting them sift through his fingers. “I heard back from my therapist. He said he can fit you in on Monday.”
“That soon?” I blurt in surprise. “And he replied back to you on a holiday?”
“I’m his favorite,” he jokes.
“I’m not looking forward to it,” I admit. “But I know I need to do this.”
“I think it’ll make you feel better.”
“I hope so,” I sigh.
The fireworks become more frequent, making conversation difficult as it reaches its crescendo. When they’re over, Spencer stands and offers me his hand.
“Just remember,” he says softly. “You’re not doing this for me or Monroe or anyone else but you. It’s okay to take care of yourself and prioritize your own feelings. It doesn’t make you selfish.”
It’s what I needed to hear.
Sometimes it’s hard to realize that I need to take care of myself to be there for others. As women and mothers, it’sbecome a little too natural to always put ourselves last. He’s right, it’s time I started taking care of my own feelings and therapy is probably the best place to start.
CHAPTER 71
SPENCER
SIX YEARS AGO
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Monroe. Happy birthday to you,” everyone sings.
“Blow out your candle, sweetie.” Harlow points to the number one shaped candle sticking out of the tiny cake we got just for the baby.
Monroe giggles and babbles, swatting at the cake, and Harlow blows the candle out for her. Monroe claps her hands in excitement.
I can’t believe a year has already passed since our daughter was born. It’s been both the best, and most stressful year of my life. Harlow swipes her finger through the pink frosting on Roe’s cake and smears it on my nose, laughing.
It’s good to see her doing better.
In the past two months, she’s become more confident in motherhood and I’m so happy to finally see her blossoming in it. I believe she’s been killing the mom thing the whole time, butshedidn’t feel that way.
Monroe smashes her hand into the cake, and we all dissolve into laughter.
It’s safe to say that as the only grandchild on both sides, and Willa’s only niece, she’s a very spoiled baby.
I wipe the frosting from my nose and lick my finger clean. Harlow watches me with heat in her eyes. It’s not that things were rocky between us after Monroe came, it just became harder to find time for just the two of us, but I feel like we’re beginning to come out of that fog.
When the cake is gone, we let Monroe attempt to open her presents which mostly involves the two of us starting it for her and her playing with the paper until one of us inevitably takes over to get it all off.
It’s a nice day, though, being with everyone and celebrating our little girl. It’s a beautiful, sunny day—a stark contrast to the storm that was hitting Santa Monica a year ago.
“I’m going to put her down for a nap,” Harlow says, scooping up Monroe from my arms. “Mom said she’d keep an ear out for her if we wanted to surf.”
“I’ll grab the boards.”
Her dad has several surfboards in the garage that are always up for grabs for anyone to use.
