“Morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Callum said, kissing Claire on the forehead as they lay in bed.
“Mmmm…” Claire moaned.
Callum kissed her again and gently brushed the hair away from her face.
“Say it again,” Claire whispered, her voice groggy.
“Say what again?” Callum asked.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
“You have now been Mrs. Fitzgerald for three whole months. I’d think hearing it would be old hat by now.”
“I could listen to you say it all day long,” Claire said, her eyes still closed, as she snuggled closer to Callum.
“How about, instead of all day, you hear it for the next fifty years?” Callum asked.
“Even better,” Claire said, a smile playing at her lips. “What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty.”
Claire’s eyes flew open.
“Damn it,” she said, rolling over and throwing her legs over the side of the bed.
“What? Do you have a hot date today?”
“I forgot to take my pill last night,” Claire said, walking into the bathroom. “I’m terrible about remembering it.”
Removing a small yellow pill from the pack, she filled the glass she kept on the counter with water and popped the pill in her mouth.
“I haven’t taken these in about fifteen years,” Claire called out to Callum. “It’s hard to get back in the routine again.”
“You didn’t take it after the twins?” Callum asked as Claire walked back into their bedroom. He was sitting up in bed now, his back propped against the headboard. Claire smiled at how handsome he was, even this early in the morning. She wished she could say she looked just as good, but she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and that definitely wasn’t the case.
“Oh, no. Jack had a vasectomy right away. I should’ve had my tubes tied, but…well, I didn’t and it seemed easier…” Claire smiled. “At least, easier for me if Jack was the one who got ‘fixed.’ ”
Claire walked to her dresser and took a clean bra and panties out of the drawer.
“Remind me next week to make an appointment and I’ll do the same,” Callum said.
“Do the same what?” Claire asked, distracted as she dug through the bottom drawer for her favorite college T-shirt.
“Get fixed,” Callum said, with a grin. “Like a dog.”
“Absolutely not,” Claire said, finding the shirt and yanking it from the bottom of the pile. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“First of all, Claire, it’s ‘our’ problem, not yours. And, it’s not a problem. It’s a situation that needs to be handled.”
Holding her clothes in a bunch by her stomach, Claire sat down on the bed next to Callum.
“Callum?” she asked.
“Yes?” He reached to his nightstand to grab the remote for the TV.
“What if you marry someone else someday and want kids with her?”
Callum’s arm froze, remote in hand. Slowly, he lowered it to the bed and rolled back to face Claire.
“Why would I ever marry someone else, love? Do you plan on leaving me for some hot Italian on our next tour?”
“No, it’s…” Claire said wistfully. “You never know where life is gonna take you. I always thought I’d be married to Jack forever. Something could happen to me. You might want kids someday with someone else. I don’t want you to limit your options.”
Callum dropped the remote and pulled Claire toward him on the bed.
“Listen to me, Mrs. Fitzgerald. You are ‘it’ for me. There will never be anyone else. If, heaven forbid, something ever happened to you, I’d spend the rest of my life waiting to be with you again. I will not be having children with other women.”
“You can’t say that. I never thought I’d meet someone after Jack.”
“I won’t,” Callum said. “I know me. So, case closed, okay?”
Claire pulled her legs back on the bed and snuggled into Callum’s chest.
“You’re the best, you know that?” she asked.
“So you keep telling me, love,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “As I said, I’ll call next week for an appointment. It’s not a big deal.”
Claire giggled. “Okay, let’s see if you say that when you’re on the couch with a pack of frozen peas between your legs.”
“Ouch!” Callum yelped. “You didn’t mention that part.”
Claire smiled as she rolled the hair on his chest between her index finger and her thumb.
“I’ll be there to bring you a frozen bag of corn when the peas defrost.”
“Well, there’s that,” Callum said. “But, in the meantime, until I can have that lovely experience, don’t forget to take your pill.”
“Yes, sir,” Claire said as she leaned her head up to Callum, her lips searching for his.
• • •
“You seriously are the biggest baby,” Claire said, removing the ice pack from between his legs and replacing it with a new, towel- wrapped one.
“Hey, there! Watch how you drop that thing! I’m an injured man.”
“You do realize I complained less after giving birth, right? And, not only that, but I had to actually get up and take care of those babies while I was busy not complaining.”
“Yes. Yes. I think you’ve mentioned it every time you’ve brought me a new ice pack,” Callum said, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch.
Callum added, “Want to watch a movie tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said, walking back into the room. “I’m exhausted. I think I want to go to bed.”
Callum glanced at the clock on the wall.
“It’s only eight-thirty, love. Are you trying to say taking care of me has worn you out?”
“That must be it,” Claire said. “Do you mind? Raincheck on the movie?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“Do you want me to help you into bed?”
“No, I’m not ready to fall asleep and I’ll keep you up if I watch TV.”
“How will you get into our room when you’re ready?” she asked him. She normally didn’t have to help Callum get into bed at night, but she knew he’d struggle, tonight. Any man would struggle, but moving around would be even more difficult for Callum.
“I’ll sleep here on the couch, love.”
“Really?” Claire said, her voice full of disappointment. They’d been married for close to five months and had yet to spend a night apart, even a room apart.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Callum said. “Enough of those weepy eyes. I’m just sleeping on the couch, not filing for divorce. You’ll survive one night. If you really miss me, you can always come out here and join me.”
“I doubt I’ll miss you that much,” Claire teased, heading into the bedroom.
• • •
Claire pulled the pillow over her head and moaned.
“Hey, sleepyhead, come on. Time to get up. I made you breakfast.”
Claire could hear the hum of Callum’s chair as he rolled closer to the bed.
“You’ve been doing an awful lot of sleeping this past week. Taking care of me for a few days last week wasn’t all that exhausting, was it?”
Claire nodded that it was.
“Now, Claire, you know if I move that pillow off your head, I’m going to drop this breakfast onto the bed. I’m not an octopus, you know. I don’t have eight arms.”
Claire pulled the pillow further around her head.
“That was supposed to be funny, love,” Callum said. “Get it? I don’t have eight arms? You’re supposed to say, ‘You don’t even have two.’ ”
When Claire didn’t stir, Callum said, “Okay, then. I’ll leave the food here on the nightstand and when you’re hungry, you can eat. But, you’d better hurry up. It’ll get cold quickly.”
Claire didn’t say a word, but she heard him roll out of the room.
She continued to lie in bed, without moving, for a few more minutes and then decided Callum was right. She needed to eat something. She hadn’t had much of an appetite for at least a week now. She’d still been preparing meals for Callum—things that sounded good to her before she began to cook them—but then found, once the food was on the table, all she was able to do was pick at it.
She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. They were due to go back on tour in a little more than a week and she had a ton to do before then. Not only did she and Callum have to prepare for their trip, but she also needed to get busy putting their home and lives on hold until they got back two months later.
Lowering the covers from over her head, she slowly sat up and lifted the plate, which Callum had left beside her, and placed it on her lap. Scrambled eggs, toast and strawberries, usually one of her favorites. She took a spoonful and raised it to her mouth.
The smell was overwhelming. The odor nauseating. Quickly shoving the plate to the side of her, Claire threw off the covers and ran to the bathroom. She barely reached the toilet before she began to retch.
She wanted to believe she had a stomach bug. But she knew that wasn’t the case.
She’d been here before, clutching the porcelain god as she prayed the heaving would stop before her entire insides spewed from her body. She knew what this meant.
It meant she and Callum had one big problem on their hands.