Page 57 of The Write Choice

I cut up some strips of paper and write a few outrageous suggestions on them. I place them in the jar and mix them up, a smirk playing at my lips.

Chapter 17

Brandon

Friday morning, before the sun even peeks above the horizon, Mason bursts into our room. I groan and cover my eyes with the crook of my elbow. Katie barely stirs.

“Today’s the day I get to have a playdate with Brody after school!” he squeals.

I wince as Mason’s voice pierces through my brain. It is way too early for this.

I roll over and grab my phone, tapping it awake. “What are you doing up at five-thirty in the morning?” I half-grumble, half-growl, trying not to open my eyes too far and fully wake myself up. There’s still a chance I can get some more sleep if I can just get him to leave.

“I’m excited!” he shouts again.

I shush him. “Your mother is sleeping.”

“Only the dead could sleep through this,” she mutters out of the side of her mouth, not opening her eyes.

“Go back to bed, Mason. Wait for your alarm,” I say.

“Okay!” he exclaims, and practically skips down the hallway back to his room. He leaves our doorway and the hallway light on, though, so I have to get out of bed to at least shut off the light. The cold air immediately hits my bare chest and jolts me further toward fully awake. I crawl back into bed as quickly as I can.

Katie hasn’t moved. I’m almost certain she hasn’t fallen back asleep yet, but I don’t want to take any chances and wake her again. I lay on my back and fold my arm beneath my head, tilting so I can watch her for a moment. Her closed eyelids flutter ever so slightly, and her full lips are parted and relaxed. Her blonde hair falls over her jaw, and I want to brush it away. I don’t, though, fearing my touch would wake her.

For the next hour or so, I move in and out of sleep. Just when I start to doze off again, something bumps me awake, and by the time I can hear Mason’s alarm going off down the hall, I feel more run down than I did when he burst through our door.

Katie’s breath is deep and even. I roll over slightly and press a kiss to her temple. She groans and opens one eye.

“I’m not feeling great. Do you think you can do the morning stuff today?”

“Of course,” I say. “Do you want me to cancel tonight?”

She closes her eye, looking content. “No. It’s… I’m not sick. I just need some extra time.”

I look down to where the comforter has slipped down to her waist from when I moved, and she’s clutching a hot water bottle to her lower abdomen. I didn’t even notice she had that last night, though she was reading in bed by the time I got home.

Katie has always had terrible monthly cramps with her period. She said they got worse after she had Mason, too. She’s seen several doctors over the course of our marriage and never received any answers aside from the advice to use a heating pad and take some over the counter pain medications. She was hopeful her IUD would help, but no such luck.

I hover my hand above the hot water bottle. It’s lukewarm at best. I slide it out from under her hand. She doesn’t protest, but she does curl further into herself as she presses her eyes closed. Her breathing has become more labored, and a slight line has appeared between her brows.

No one else seems to be stirring yet—there isn’t even a sound besides the alarm coming from Mason’s room, so I throw on a shirt and pad down to the kitchen. I run the tap and as it heats up, I distribute the old water from the bottle into the potted plants by the window. Then I refill the bottle once the water is as hot as it will go. I fill a glass with cold water and grab the bottle of pain meds, too, and make my way back upstairs.

Katie is still curled up, so I gently pry her fingers open and press the medicine into her palm. She opens one eye at me again, and I hand her the glass of water. She props herself up on her forearm and greedily shoves the medicine into her mouth before she downs the whole glass of water and flops back on the bed. I slide the hot water bottle back over her abdomen, and watch as her expression smooths out.

I walk through the bathroom and into our walk-in closet to start getting ready for the day. It doesn’t take me long, but when I’m done, I’m surprised Christine isn’t up and Mason’s alarm is still blaring. A quick look at my watch tells me that we’d better get moving if everyone is going to make it to where they need to be on time. I walk over to the bed and pull my phone off my charger, but as I turn to leave the room, Katie grabs my wrist and tugs gently.

I lean over the bed so I can see her face. She smiles slightly.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

My heart swells almost out of my chest. One word. That’s all it took, and I’m a goner.

I squeeze her hand, and when she releases her grip on me, I pull the comforter up over her shoulders. She shimmies a bit to snuggle underneath it, and it’s so fucking cute I can barely contain myself. If I had the time, I’d hold her tight until the aching stopped—hers and mine.

No time for that, though. I’ve got to get these snails moving or we’re going to be late.

I leave the bedroom and close the door behind me as quietly as I can. Christine’s room is closest, but Mason is the most self-sufficient, so I start with him. I burst through his door in a little bit of retaliation for earlier. Not my proudest moment, but I’ll take the wins where I can. I find him in his loft bed, just a lump under a blanket.