Beautiful Beloved
Page 9

I never went inside my office and he never questioned why.
Which was ridiculous, when you thought about it. I was Sara Stella, capable of managing multimillion-dollar campaigns and overseeing an entire finance department.
But I hadn’t quite figured out how to do all that and be mommy, too.
“You haven’t gone into your office yet?” Hanna asked. “Is it going to be weird to go back?”
“I don’t think so? I mean, I want to go back to work. I need to. It’s such a part of who I am and I need that part of my life. But Anna . . . the idea of leaving her for eight hours a day still fills me with this guilt like I’m ruining her somehow or I’m missing some vital mommy muscle that makes me want to stay home. Plus, I know I want more at some point and how will we make all that work? Is it fair of me to want more children when I’m pretty sure I’ll always need that side of me, too?”
“Bullshit,” Chloe said. “You think men ever have this conversation with themselves? Of course they don’t. You’ve killed yourself to get where you are. If you can have both, have both. It might take some adjustment but who cares? You figure it out as you go.” She tilted her head and added, “You don’t see Max wanting to stay home.”
“Actually,” I started, and it was enough to get Chloe’s attention. She put down her mug and sat back in her chair, waiting. “I don’t really know what’s going on with him right now. I know he wants me every bit as much as he did before Anna, but I think it’s been more of an adjustment for him than he thought it would be, the idea of my being a wife and a mother. He’s so careful, like he’s not sure how to treat me.”
“Can you blame the man?” George said, and we all turned to him. “Have you seen what childbirth does to a vagina?” He did a full-body shudder.
“George,” Chloe said, shaking her head.
“What!” he shouted.
“Shut up!” she shouted back.
“As horrible a flashback as that was,” I said, “George has a point. I think Max is worried he’ll do something to hurt me, and I’m not really sure how to show him I’m the same Sara I was before. That I want the same things I did before.”
Chloe shrugged and picked up her coffee. “I don’t know, Sara. He went from having you all to himself to watching you learn how to be a mama. Doesn’t surprise me his brain is having to rewrite that code a little.”
“I don’t think it’s about having to share me . . .” I hedged, but Chloe held up a hand.
“I mean it’s about shifting how he sees you,” she said, lifting an arched brow. “First you were the lust of his life, and now you’re the mother of his daughter.”
I chewed my lip, nodding. “He worries that I’m delicate now.”
“Exactly,” she said, a bit more gently. “Having Anna was traumatic. It wasn’t as easy a birth as you both expected. You’ve already forgotten it, but maybe he hasn’t and still needs to get over it.”
Chloe was right. Sex this morning had been wild and hard, as if wanting me took over the part of Max’s brain that told him to slow down. That’s what I wanted.
“When was the last time just the two of you went out?” George asked.
“Since Anna? We haven’t.”
It was his turn for a little eyebrow snark. “Well there’s part of your problem right there, babycakes.”
“Are we just talking wild sex here?” Chloe asked. “Because it’s not like Annabel would have a clue what’s going on.”
“True,” George said, “but it’s probably a lot harder to fuck like wild animals with a baby asleep two doors down. You need a little space.”
He had a point. “I love my baby more than anything in the world, but I want hours and hours. I want to bang my husband until he can’t remember his name.”
Silence bounced around the table for a few breaths.
“Too blunt?” I asked, laughing.
“Never,” George said quickly. “I think we’re all just working on that mental image.”
“God, I sound desperate,” I say, resting my chin on my fist. “Maybe we should just start with dinner out? I think Max is asking his mom if she can watch Anna this weekend.”
“Otherwise next weekend Bennett and I can help,” Chloe said.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” George cut in. “What am I here for? My subtle charm? My pretty face? What about me?”