Page 34 of Beautifully Messy
It takes me a second to catch on. He means breastfeeding,the horror.
“That’s not appropriate.” He gestures with two fingers, sharp as an accusation, toward Anna on my chest.
“Mason,chill,” Jules snaps. “She’s feeding your daughter.”
Margaret remains carefully composed. Gary disappears.
“No, seriously. Don’t feed her out in the open.” Mason’s face reddens. “You’re… you’re all exposed. Please go upstairs to feed her.”
The request hangs in the air.
A year ago, I might’ve said okay. Six months ago, I might’ve reached for a blanket.
But today?
“Actually,” I say, meeting his gaze, “I’ll feed our daughter wherever I choose.” I shift Anna gently against my shoulder. “But she’s done eating.”
I stand, adjusting my sweater with calm precision. “I’m going for a run. Margaret, would you mind watching the monitor? I’ll bring it down before I leave.”
Margaret nods, a little too quickly. Jules offers a small, satisfied smile. One that saysfinally. And Mason? He doesn’t have a word to say. A muscle in his jaw twitches and he follows me upstairs, gearing up for round two.
But I have something else in mind.
“I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that in front of my parents,” Mason mutters, unzipping his bag while I lay a sleeping Anna in her crib.
“I’m sorry, Mase.” I turn and lift my top over my head, letting the moment unfurl as my breasts spill from the nursing bra, full and tender. Making sure he’s watching, I slide out of my jeans, revealing lacy boy shorts. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I part my legs and lean back on my hands, presenting the body he once couldn’t get enough of. “Can I make it up to you?”
He looks me over, but instead of desire, all I see are the same dull, bored eyes I’ve been seeing for months, since my pregnancy started to show and my body changed. Grabbing his clothes, he disappears into the closet.
I change fast, not looking in the mirror.
And that’s been the biggest shift over the past year. No matter how distant Mason and I have always been, he wanted me. That desire was the tether; the thing that made it bearable.
But now? I’m invisible.
That shift—quiet at first, now loud and unmistakable—has turned the space between us into a chasm. Something I can’t smooth over or deny. And because we don’ttalkabout things in our marriage, it festers, grows in the silence and stretches wider with every passing month.
***
Afterdinner,MargaretwhisksAnna away, giving me a rare moment to enjoy uninterrupted adult time. I settle beside Jules and the others out on the back deck, the fire pit crackling behind a curtain of sparks and smoke. The air is crisp, the kind that bites your nose but feels oddly comforting. Conversation flows easily, a rhythm of familiar banter and easy laughter.
Jules and Tom fall into their usual game of one-upmanship. Their version of foreplay.
“You won’t believe what happened during a delivery last week…” Jules begins, launching into a wild tale of medical chaos that sounds more likeGrey’s Anatomythan anything from a real hospital.
Tom counters with an equally absurd story, eyes sparkling, trying to out-charm her.
Being surrounded by adults is a reprieve. But I’m quieter than usual, unsure how to slip in when my world revolves around nap windows, cluster feeds, and baby-wearing hacks.
Ivy snuggles beside James, draping her legs across his lap. He sits stiffly, hands clenched into loose fists instead of resting on her.
Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second.
Barely anything.
But it’s enough.
Because I see it. The same look he gave me earlier, out on the snowy road.
