My Peace

  should go.”

  “Ok.” I walk her to the door, and when she’s gone, I set the alarm. We live in a nice neighborhood, but I’ve always been careful. Maddy says I’m paranoid, but it’s not that. I’m just realistic.

  After finding out that Pax’s mother had been murdered in cold blood so long ago by their mailman, I’ve learned that life can be tragic and random, and it’s smart to be cautious. People can be sick, and you never know what a person is really like until you truly get to know them.

  I strip off my clothes and brush my teeth and climb into our giant bed alone.

  With only me in it, it is enormous, and Pax’s side is cold.

  I stare out the wall of windows facing me, at the view of the gardens. I watch the treetops sway in the night, and I know that in a couple of hours, the sun will come up, and when it does, when the first fingers of dawn stretch into my daughter’s room, Zuzu will be wide awake.

  My phone buzzes on my nightstand.

  Go to sleep. I love you.

  I smile at my husband’s text. He knows me well.

  Quit being bossy, I answer. But I love you, too.

  Across town, Pax is lying awake in a hospital bed, and he’s just as unable to sleep as I am, because we’re so used to falling asleep entwined together.

  I’ll see you soon, I add.

  Closing my eyes, I let the darkness swallow me up, enveloping me in its silent void.

  Sleep comes quickly.

  4

  Chapter Three

  Pax

  I groan as I move.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mutter, as I attempt to get dressed. My fucking back feels like it was twisted into a pretzel and then chewed on by iron teeth. I groan again, and the young nurse walking in notices.

  “You ok?” she raises an eyebrow, her dark eyes showing concern. “I don’t think you should’ve signed yourself out.”

  “I’ve got things to do,” I tell her. “And being here isn’t going to help anything.”

  “You could rest here,” she makes her way across the room, and stops next to me, her hands on my shoulders. She palpates my tender body, feeling for… I don’t know what. Her fingers linger on my chest. “I would take very good care of you.”

  I’m startled because her tone has just gotten very suggestive and I know I’m not imagining it.

  She smiles slightly, and I move away, out of her reach.

  “That’s ok,” I tell her firmly. “My wife will take good care of me at home.”

  The nurse isn’t bothered. “She’s not trained like I am,” she points out, and she turns off the monitors, and bends slowly in front of me to straighten the pillow that I’m not even using. Her ass is in the air in front of me. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Holy shit.

  “How unprofessional,” I say. I’m not harsh, and I’m not mean, but there’s one thing I’ve learned in life. You have to be direct for people to understand you.

  She pauses, assessing me, assessing my interest.

  When she sees that I’m not interested, at all, she straightens and is back to business, pretending that she hadn’t spoken.

  She hands me a paper. “These are your discharge instructions,” she says, and she’s perfunctory now. “You need to follow up with your physician, you should avoid physical activity until your doctor clears you. Take it easy because you’re going to be sore for a while. Here is a script for pain medication. Because of your history, they are non-narcotic, but they will still help. You’re going to need them. You’re pretty banged up.”

  “You think?” I ask dryly, wincing again as I move.

  “Don’t try to be a tough guy,” she advises. “You need to stay in front of the pain. So if the instructions say take two every four hours, do it.”

  I nod. “Fine. Thank you.”

  She pauses at the door, and looks at me one more time. “Do you need anything else?”

  She appears to be hopeful. Jesus.

  “No, thanks,” I tell her.

  “Well, if you change your mind, press the ‘call’ button.”

  She disappears and I exhale. Is that what women are like nowadays? I’ve been off the market for five years, but I swear, some women see a wedding ring as a challenge.

  I am quickly distracted though, because I hear the thud of small sneakered feet and then girlish shrieks.

  “Daddy!” Zuzu bounds into the room, her blond curls bouncing as she leaps up next to me. I swallow hard from being jostled.

  “Punkin,” I hug her with one arm, and she smells like sunshine and little girl. “I missed you.”

  She looks up at me with green eyes just like her mama’s. “Mommy says you hurt yourself.”

  “Well, yeah. I guess I did. But I’m ok,” I assure her.

  Mila steps into the room. “If you’d stop stepping in front of moving vehicles, you’d be perfect.”

  I chuckle. “I hope you’re here to spring me out.”

  “Only if you promise to be a good boy,” she says sassily, and her eye gleam as she approaches. “Be careful with daddy,” she tells Zu. “He’s fragile.”

  I roll my eyes and heft myself up. “I’ll show you fragile,” I grumble under my breath. My wife just laughs.

  “You ready to go home?” she asks, her eyebrow raised. “Or were you wanting to sleep here another night?”

  “Let’s get the f…” I pause, eying my daughter. “Flock out.”

  My daughter leads the way, skipping down the corridor, making nurses smile at her. Every step I take hurts like hell, but I try not to show it. I’m not a pussy, and I’m not going to act like one.

  Once we’re loaded into Mila’s SUV, she glances at me. “I’ll go get your meds after I get you home. I don’t want you to have to wait at the pharmacy.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” I tell her, but Jesus, the seat makes my back scream. Every muscle in my body feels like it is contracting, twisting, and has been shredded though a meat grinder.

  “No arguments,” Mila says firmly as she pulls out of the parking space and onto the road. “You’re my patient now, and I’m a strict nurse. Some might even say militant.”

  “You’d better listen, daddy,” Zuzu advises from the backseat. “Momma knows everything.”

  I raise an eyebrow, even though that hurts, too. “Everything?”

  Zu nods. “Yup.”

  “Listen to your daughter,” Mila laughs. “She’s wise. She gets that from me.”

  We drive over a bump and I suck in a breath as the pain reverberates through my ribcage. Mila glances at me.

  “How bad is it?” she asks.

  “Not at all,” I lie. “It’s great. Refreshing, actually.”

  My wife rolls her eyes. “Reminds you you’re alive?”

  I nod. “Exactly.”

  She runs over another bump.

  “I’ve already been reminded,” I tell her. “Avoid the potholes.”

  “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll try.”

  We sail through the morning traffic, and when we get home, I’ve never seen anything so welcoming as our cozy Cape Cod. Even the wrap-around porch looks All-American, and I exhale as I climb out of the car.

  Mila rushes ahead to unlock the door and I climb the stairs gingerly.

  “Daddy, I’ll read you a story,” Zu offers as we walk inside. “I know two of them.”

  “She memorized them,” Mila tells me quietly. “But that’s ok. It’s how I learned to read, too.”

  “I’d love that,” I answer Zuzu. “Go get your books, sweetheart. I’ll be on the couch.” I head to the kitchen first to grab some icepacks, and then settle in the family room.

  Surrounded by the familiar artwork and our comfortable furniture, I finally relax. Home has a way of doing that to a person.

  Zuzu tucks in next to me, and ‘reads’ me her Dr. Suess books while Mila runs out to get my prescriptions filled, and the sweet childish voice of my daughter lulls me to sleep.

  I’m awakened hours late
r by Mila shaking my shoulder gently, a bottle of water in her hand.

  “Here,” she thrusts two pills at me. “Take these.”

  “I’m ok,” I tell her, but she’s already shaking her head.

  “Nope. They said to stay in front of the pain. Take them, tough guy.”

  “You think I’m pussy-whipped,” I tell her, as I swallow the pills. “But I’m not. I’m taking these because I want to.”

  She laughs. “Oh, I know. It’s completely your idea.”

  “Just so we’re clear,” I grumble. She laughs again.

  “Your grandfather is coming over tonight to check on you.”

  “Really? I thought he was coming over for dinner next week.”

  She sighs. “Pax, you’re his only grandchild. You were just hit by a car. He’s coming to check on you. Also, your father called to check on you, too. You might want to call him back.”

  “Did you call everyone on the planet?”

  She’s sheepish. “I was worried. There wasn’t much to do in the waiting room other than pace.”

  I kiss her nose, even though the movement is torture. It feels like my ribs are scraping each other, the bones digging into flesh. I ignore it.

  “I love you. I’m sorry you were worried.”

  “I love you so I’ll always worry. It’s my job.”

  She bustles out, and I love watching her go, because my wife has a perfect ass. At the door, she pauses and glances back.

  “I felt you staring.”

  I grin, and she’s gone.

  The pain pills make me sleepy, and so I lay my head back. The next thing I know, Mila is waking me up again. I know time has passed because shadows creep along the walls now.

  “Babe, dinner is in an hour. Do you want to shower?”

  I’m groggy from sleeping during the day. I’m not one for naps.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “That’ll be good.”

  Mila kisses my cheek, and her lips are warm. “Your grandfather is on his way. I’ve got a new bottle of Glenfiddich for him.”

  I shudder. “Gah. I don’t know why he loves that shit.”

  She shrugs. “Me either. But we have a bottle for him.”

  My ribs feel like they are going to spring from my sternum as I get to my feet, and I imagine them tautly tuned, one by one springing free like overly tightened guitar strings. It makes me cringe, and Mila notices.

  “You ok?”

  “I’m perfect.”

  “Need more pain medicine? I think it’s time.”

  “After I shower.”

  She nods and I hobble down to our bathroom. It’s large and from the door, it seems that the shower is a million miles away. Each step is painful, and with no one watching me, I limp pathetically. My knee is killing me, too. But I’m only a pussy if someone sees.

  I let the hot water pelt my head and back, and the heat relaxes some of the pent-up tension. My bruised up body feels like it is coiled around an iron spool. I won’t be hitting the gym this week, that’s for sure.

  Gingerly, I lather up and rinse off.

  Even more gingerly, I use the towel to dry.

  Lord have mercy, everything hurts. Even my scalp.

  I bend slowly to dry off my feet and as I do, I glance at the wastebasket. I don’t know why. My eye is just drawn to the wicker shell, and the crumpled tissues within.

  There is a white plastic stick lying amid the tissue.

  What the….

  I reach for it, pull it out, and it is a pregnancy test.

  There are two pink lines.

  5

  Chapter Four

  Mila

  The kitchen is warm as I bustle about. The heat makes me a bit dizzy, but I ignore it. The only side effect I get from pregnancy is sensitivity to heat.

  I shove my damp hair back from my brow, and close the oven door with my foot.

  “That’s talent,” William says from the doorway, laughing.

  I glance up, and Pax’s grandfather enters the room, and he seems so out of place in here in his formal suit. It doesn’t matter how casual the occasion, William Alexander always wears a suit and tie, distinguished and formal.

  “Not really,” I tell him, smiling. “It’s a necessity. With Zuzu running around, I’ve got to multi-task.”

  William smiles. “She reminds me of Pax when he was small,” he says. “Except for her blonde hair, of course. She gets that from her mother.”

  “Yes. And my sister,” I acknowledge. “But her energy… that’s all Pax.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” William asks, and he leans against the granite. His hand is slender, almost skinny, with blue veins that stand out in the light.

  “No, thank you,” I answer. “I don’t want you to get dirty.”

  He chuckles. “You don’t think I’ve been inside a kitchen before.”

  I pause. “Have you?”

  He chuckles again.

  “A long time ago.” He looks into the distance. “But it’s been years.”

  He seems melancholy somehow, a slight sadness perched on his mouth. William is formal, but he’s always even-keeled, and never shows much emotion. He’s a businessman through and through, with an amazing poker-face that has closed a thousand deals. But tonight, there’s something different. Something almost sad.

  “Well, you can put the rolls into a basket, if you’d like,” I offer, and he actually seems relieved. He moves quickly, using tongs to pick up the browned bits of dough.

  “How’s Pax feeling?” he asks as he counts the rolls and arranges them.

  “He’s in pain,” I answer. “But he’s so lucky. I don’t think he realizes that he could’ve died.”

  The thought almost paralyzes me. The idea that I would have to continue life without my husband. It makes my hands clammy.

  William nods. “That thought crossed my mind when you called. I spent the entire night praying for him.”

  “Praying?” I lift an eyebrow. William hasn’t been religious, not since Pax’s mother was murdered. He always said he felt like a kind and