Blair stepped into the shower, turning his face into the hot spray and scrubbing at it with his hands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had an opportunity to take his time cleaning up. He lathered his hair and massaged his fingers through the tangles, rinsing and sudsing a second time, luxuriating in the herbal scent and hot water. He applied the conditioner, which he left in while he scoured every inch of his body clean, then rinsed it out and reluctantly stepped out of the shower, turning off the water with a sigh.
He wrapped his hair with a towel, then dried off with another. Fastening the damp towel around his waist, he wiped a clear spot on the foggy mirror. Coating his beard with shaving cream, he began to carefully scrape away at several days' growth. The process took a long time, but when he was finished, Blair had to admit he looked like a whole new man.
Taking the towel off his head, he began to work his stylist's pick through the tangles. He couldn't remember the last time he'd combed his hair--personal hygiene taking a back seat to a colicky baby and rampaging mate.
His heart sank at the thought of Jim. Since all this started, the couple had not made love. Often, they hadn't even slept in the same bed. Blair catnapped where and when he could, on the couch or in the nursery's rocker, in an attempt to give Jim the best night's sleep he could manage. All his efforts had failed, leaving them on the brink . . . of what? Blair didn't know, and didn't want to know.
He slipped on his robe and headed upstairs to get dressed. When he came down, decked out in his black jeans and a red Henley shirt, even old Flo McGinty whistled. "If I were thirty years younger, James would have a fight on his hands." She smiled at the young man, giving him a wink.
"Thanks for everything, Flo. You're a gem." Blair walked over and hugged the grandmotherly woman. "That seven hours was just what I needed. I feel great."
"I'm glad I could help, Sweetie," Flo clucked. "I guess I'd better get going. James should be home any time now."
Blair walked the old woman to the door, thanking her again as she took her leave.
The smell from the kitchen drew Blair back. His stomach rumbled. He wondered how much longer he'd have to wait for Jim to come home. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost six o'clock. He set the burner to simmer, and went to check on Laurene.
By 7:30, Blair was beginning to get angry, and a little worried. Jim still wasn't home, and hadn't called. He finally dished up a bowl of the savory stew and sat down to eat. He'd finished about half the serving when Laurene began to wail once more.
Getting up, he went into the nursery to check on her. After changing a dirty diaper, he carried her back out to the dining table to finish his meal. By the time he'd eaten and cleaned up, his migraine was starting up again. He carried the fussy child up to their bedroom and stretched out on the king-size bed. How long had it been since he'd felt this mattress beneath him? It couldn't have been longer than three or four weeks, but it felt like forever.
He pulled the Henley out of the waistband of his jeans, hiking it up under his chin, and put Laurene to his left breast. She latched on and began suckling with painful enthusiasm. Blair closed his eyes and tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep.
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