Page 11 of Cyrus
Epilogue
Billie
One Year Later…
“Do you have her bottle?” I ask.
“Yes,” Mel says.
“What about her comforter?”
“It’s in the stroller,” she says. “With everything else.”
“Her hat?” I say. “In case it gets cold?”
“For god's sake, Billie. It’s ninety degrees out here. She’s not going to be cold.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Just hold there a minute. I’ll go grab her sunhat.”
Mel grabs my arm and stops me from running up the stairs. She puts both her hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Billie, I love you, but you’re really starting to drive me nuts. I’ve raised three kids of my own. I think I can handle taking my granddaughter to the park.”
I let out a deep breath. She’s right. It’s just scary sometimes. Letting go ain’t easy.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just get worried, that’s all.”
She squeezes my cheek between her thumb and forefinger. Then taps me slightly on the side of the face. “That’s what makes you such a good mother. But you have to learn to trust other people, okay?”
“Alright,” I say.
It’s not going to be easy advice to follow.
“Now, go and put your feet up and enjoy yourself. You’ve earned a break. Even if it’s only for the afternoon.”
“And you’ll call me if anything is wrong?”
“No,” she says, being sarcastic. “I’ll just sit there with my finger up my ass.”
She opens the door and walks out of the house. Shaking her head in disbelief. Sometimes I think I might be trying her patience.
I close the door and lean my back against the wall.
She’s right.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a break.
I’ve hardly slept, and my back is achy and my feet hurt and my nipples are kind of sore from all the pumping and I’m scared to even sniff my armpits.
“Cyrus?” I yell, wondering where in the heck he’s got to.
He’s been amazing, all through the pregnancy and the birth and these last few months dealing with the baby. But he seems to have an uncanny ability to avoid the moments when me and Mel butt heads.
“Up here,” he yells. “In the bedroom. Come on up, I have something I want to show you.”
I roll my head from side to side, stretching out the stiffness, and trudge up the stairs. Each step feels like the final mile of a marathon.
When I open the door, I can hardly believe my eyes.
The place is full of candles. There are rose petals on the floor. My gorgeous, six-foot-six husband is on the bed with a massive erection.
