A Model Romance (True Love Book 3) (6 page)

“OK, thank you, Becca. It sounds so nice. We’re officially even.”

I pack a small overnight bag and head over Mel’s house on Friday. The boys have flag-football games on Saturday, and Katie and Jason will have them for the better part of the day. Brian and Mel have decided to go up to Wisconsin to a bed and breakfast on Lake Michigan.

I order pizza for us, and after Lou goes to sleep the boys and I stay up and play video games. I love these guys; they are so sweet around me. Brian’s influence has rubbed off on them considerably. Their jerk of a dad, Chris, continues his same erratic behavior, but their home life is stable and full of love. It warms my heart to see them happy.

Saturday morning is like trying to put out a four-alarm fire with nothing but spit. They are all over the place, trying to find uniforms, and round up snacks and water bottles. I thought I got up early enough to make them breakfast, but all I have time to do is to spill Lucky Charms into bowls and splash milk at them. Katie comes over, assuming I may need assistance, thank God, and helps get everyone out the door. Poor Baby Lou is upset in her highchair watching the madness around her. Mel makes this craziness look easy. Once the chaos is removed, I take a moment to pick up the house, and feed Lou her breakfast. She’s still sniffling from her earlier crying jag from when I wasn’t holding her before. It’s quiet so she calms down as I sing and feed her some scrambled eggs. I need a good shower this morning. Wait, how am I supposed to shower? Who watches her while I’m in there? Crap. No shower. I guess I’ll have to wait until she naps.

I put some clean clothes on Lou, and wipe her face as best I can while she wiggles. I’m about as good as I’m going to get this morning with my yoga pants and a T-shirt. I want to take her to the neighborhood park down the street, so I throw on my socks and shoes. I don’t care what I look like; no one really knows me here anyway.

She climbs into her stroller and off we go. The downtown park is a little farther to walk than I thought. It’s such a nice day, I don’t mind. I packed her enough juice and snacks to last through a blizzard. It’s busy out here, with the weather being so nice, everyone had the same idea. I hear a “click” and see that my little angel has taught herself a new trick; she can unbuckle the stroller belt buckle. She wiggles out, and gives me the “chase me” look and tries to run. The best she can do is waddle a little faster than her toddling speed, thank goodness. The boys have taught her how to play chase and hide-and-seek. Even at just one, she picked it up fast.

I grab the diaper bag and abandon the stroller to follow her. I let her believe I’m giving chase, and that elicits the cutest squeal and she tries to pick up the pace, which sends her tumbling forward. She starts to cry, and I drop the bag like she’s been shot. I scoop her off the ground, and she doesn’t even have a scratch. I kiss her tears, and she wiggles to get back down and begin the game again. Dear God, how does Melanie do it? The post-traumatic stress from the morning madness is dragging me down. My half-cup of lukewarm coffee isn’t pulling its weight today; I’m going to need something stronger.

There’s a little coffee shop across the street, so maybe I can bribe her with the promise of a cookie. The stroller is now too far away to bother to retrieve it, I’ll just carry her. We get to the shop, her squirming little body protesting to get down, and I order the largest cup of coffee they offer, with an extra shot of espresso. My wallet is at the very bottom of the never ending chasm that is the diaper bag. I set Lou down for a moment, and dig through until I find it. I pay the young, impatient barista-she can dream on any chance of a tip-and turn to leave. I take two steps and feel like I’m going to throw up. Lou! Where’s the baby? I do a full spin to look all over the small shop. There is a young couple engaged in conversation, and the two kids that work here are chatting away behind the counter.

“Any of you see a baby?” I scream, as panic rises in my throat. The couple looks up, irritated, and shake their heads in unison. They couldn’t care less. The front door is propped open, I assume to let in a breeze, and I race out.

“Lou! Lou! Aunt Becca wants you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I look both ways up and down the sidewalk, and pray that she didn’t cross the road. There is very little traffic along this street, thank goodness, and I don’t see her across the street. I randomly turn left and run down the sidewalk, looking in every nook and cranny along the way. I feel tears pool in my eyes out of sheer terror. I feel someone behind me, and I turn quickly. It’s a policeman, holding Baby Lou, who’s pointing at me.

“Miss, does this wee one…”

I snatch Lou out of his arms, and squeeze her so tightly she whines. I hear myself crying out loud, while the poor guy stares at me. He’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t see his expression, but I’m sure he thinks I’ve lost my mind. I can only imagine how I look, yoga pants, dirty shirt, wild hair and now a tear-stained face to boot. I can’t even form the words to say “thank you” to this poor individual who saved my world. I rush past him and sprint toward the stroller with a death grip on Lou. I see the cup that I must have discarded as I ran outside. There is a large coffee splatter all over the sidewalk. I didn’t even notice when it happened.

We make it to the stroller and I buckle her in tight and run all the way back to the house. My heart feels as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. Somehow, my little angel falls asleep on the way home. All the excitement must have knocked her out. As gently as I can, I take her out and take her up to her crib. She stays asleep, and snuggles up in the corner. I feel an immediate bone-deep fatigue set in. I want to shower so badly, but I have to lie down or I’ll pass out on the spot.

“Bec, Bec, Bec, Bec,” I hear coming from down the hall. Oh shit! It’s Baby Lou. We both slept for two and a half hours. She’s probably starved for lunch. I bring her downstairs, and buckle her into the highchair. I go to make her some lunch, and I hear the “click” once again.

“Oh, no you don’t you little shit! You’re not going anywhere!”

I’m at her side before she slips out. I loosen the slack on the belt, and tie it in a knot. She’s not ever going to get away from me again! She wiggles and wiggles, but to no avail. It gives me enough time to give her a bowl of yogurt and a banana. I flop down hard in the chair beside her. I take a piece of banana, and pop it in my starving mouth. Just then, I hear noise coming from the back door. The boys are back.

“Hi, Aunt Becca, we won our game, but Matthew lost his. How are you guys?” John, ever the sweet one, says as he walks over to see Lou. He kisses the top of her head, and she giggles. Thank God she can’t speak. This afternoon will be our secret to the grave.

Katie follows the boys into the house, and sits down with me.

“Hey, Mom-in-training, you’ve looked a lot better!” She giggles as she gives me the once-over.

“At least you got to do all this one child at a time. I started with
four
this morning!”

“Here, let me finish feeding her lunch. You look like you could use a nice hot shower.”

“Bless you!” I run upstairs, and slam the door to remove these disgusting clothes. I run a shower in Melanie’s
Architectural Digest-
worthy bathroom. As soon as the warm water meets my face, the jolt of reality hits that something really bad could have happened today. I have to sit on the shower floor and hug my knees to my chest to calm my nerves. How do parents do this? I’ve never been one to show much emotion, but today I feel like I’ve made up for it. After a nice long cry in the shower, I get out. My skin is red, and my eyes are still puffy. I still have to make it through tonight and most of the day tomorrow.

Katie sees me as I come down the stairs, and she kindly offers to let the boys stay over her place.

“No, I can’t do that. I wanted to spend time with them, and I made the promise to Brian and Mel,” I say halfheartedly.

“Becca, look at yourself, you’re a wreck! It’s OK to accept help, especially when kids are involved. You’re not used to this. It’s no big deal for us, and you spend plenty of time with the boys. Calm your nerves and enjoy Louise. I’ll bring them back for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Katie. I have so much respect for you and my sister and every other parent out there. I take back every joke I ever made about moms looking haggard. I know the reason now!”

“Well, she and I have good men in our lives who help. She didn’t always, and I don’t know how she ever held that together. You have to find someone willing to work alongside you. Good times, and bad.”

She smiles, and calls the boys to come with her. I finally exhale for what seems like the first time today.

Chapter 5

Baby Lou and I have a quiet night, and an even quieter morning. The boys stayed up late, so they came home, ate some breakfast and crawled back into bed. Lou is taking a nice early nap, so I’m able to clean up a little, to look presentable for when Mel and Brian come home. A little after six, they come in looking well-rested and content.

“Oh, Bec, we owe you big time. I might score fifty points in next week’s game, I feel so good. Nothing like uninterrupted time with this one to ease my stress,” Brian says as he kisses Melanie on the back of her hand. Just kill me now: That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

“How were the kids? I spoke with them when they were at Katie’s last night. They sounded happy. How was Lou?” Melanie asks with trepidation.

“Are you aware of our little Houdini’s latest trick?” I ask with a smirk.

Melanie looks over at Brian, and they both laugh.

“You mean Baby Lou, the famous escape artist? Yes, Luke taught her how to unbuckle. Stroller, car seat, highchair, everything she can push down onto.”

“Yeah, well, you now have a very tight knot in the highchair belt. I had to carefully maneuver her out because I couldn’t undo it. Good luck with that,” I say heading out the front door to my own blessed, quiet place. I need a drink.

I call a new friend, Mandi, to see if she wants to meet somewhere. She’s another one of Barry’s models. She’s a genuine person, even though ridiculously beautiful, and I like her. She mostly does swimsuit ads, and layouts. Her body, all natural, goes on for days. I’ve always been the more traditional runway type, tall, lean, smallish chest. Essentially, most designers want a coat hanger that walks to show their goods. She says she’d love to hook up, and can I meet her at her place downtown and we can go from there? I decide to take the train. It’s so much easier and she lives only a couple of blocks from the station.

I’m feeling the need to look like the young, nonmother I am. I take my time getting ready, perk Number One with no kids, since I have no real time schedule, perk Number Two. I luxuriate in the peace and quiet, while I pay close attention to my hair and makeup. I style my hair with loose, sexy curls that reach halfway down my back. I have an abundance of hair, which makes me look like Princess Merida from
Brave
. I make my green eyes dark and smoky to go with my sexy hair. Skin-tight leather pants and a low-cut shimmery top complete the look. Worlds away from how I looked yesterday morning. I’ll be thrilled to never visit that version of Becca again.

The trains are running smoothly tonight, and I arrive at Mandi’s place in great time. When I reach her door, I hear music thumping, and I have to knock loudly for her to hear.

“Hi! I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few more people to hang with us,” she says, as I look inside and see four guys and a stunning woman, drinking and swaying in a half-dance to the music. I recognize a couple of them; they’re all models, I’m sure.

“Of course, not! The more the merrier. Where are we going?” I ask as I wave to everyone and grab a glass of wine.

“Well, we thought we could hang here for a little while until the clubs start hopping, around eleven or so.”

Oh God. I feel tired hearing that. My body hasn’t adjusted from the early-to-bed, early-to-rise. I’ll have to dig deep to find the energy, especially after my weekend.

“Great!” I say, trying to sound energetic, but not quite pulling it off.

“Come on, I know you’ve been out of the scene, but you’re young and hot. Let’s party!” As she says that, the other people in the room hold up their glasses and shout.

OK, Bec. You can do this. I raise my glass along with them and down the whole thing in one gulp.

* * *

Oooh…

I wake up in my bed, and feel like I shouldn’t have. I should rightfully be dead, feeling the way I do. A human can’t function like this. My head is swirling, and so is my stomach. I try to stand up, and it takes me a couple of tries before I can properly right myself. My temples are throbbing so hard, I feel like I can count the beat. Last night is fuzzy after we got to the club. I remember doing some shots that the guys in our group took turns buying. Turned out, I did know one of them, I had worked with him in New York. All of them gay, so no interest in working us over. I miss my gay friends, they’re so much fun to hang out with. No pressure or pretense about what they want from you at the end of the night.

Speaking of which, he’s there on my couch. For the life of me, I can’t remember his name. He’s snoring, loudly, and still has some glitter on his face from the club. I walk over and nudge him gently.