Just Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 4) Read online

  Just Perfection

  Heather R. Guimond

  Just Perfection

  Copyright © 2017 by Heather R. Guimond

  ISBN-13: 978-1979915496

  ISBN-10: 1979915490

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  Dedication

  For all the women who reached out to me after reading Shattered Perfection to tell me their personal stories of love and loss. Each of you have touched my heart and inspired me with your courage, strength, and tenacity to find your happy ending.

  This one is also for my little man. Your ability to have a constant, bright, smile and loving heart despite the challenges you face daily, humble me. I love you beyond words and am proud to be your mother.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  On May fifteenth, two weeks following my release from rehab, Samuel Vance Sever was born at 11:52 p.m. He weighed exactly nine pounds and was twenty-one inches long. Even with all the hullabaloo my treatment caused, when I came home, I realized and pointed out that Justin hadn’t done a thing to prepare for the impending birth. His nerves were so rattled that the baby could be born at any time, I offered to have him move in with me for a while, so I could help him out while he got his feet wet. I explained it would be beneficial to me, too, since I hadn’t been looking forward to being alone and on my own so soon after my release. I was intent on not leaning on him too much, but maybe this way I could truly be there for him. He was reluctant at first, out of fear he might try to do too much for me, but I reminded him he’d be far too busy trying to balance his life working and taking care of a new little person. He wouldn’t have time to take care of me, too.

  Eventually, he agreed, and we spent those two weeks transforming my guest room into a makeshift nursery. I only had three bedrooms in my house and one was occupied by Vance’s office, which we agreed Justin would use for work. In the spare room, we placed a bassinet and changing table, along with a small dresser for the baby’s clothes. The room was cramped from the additional furniture, but Justin assured me it would be fine for their needs.

  When Justin found out Sammy had been born, it was nearly two days after the fact. His attorney, Alan Sumner, called to advise him that he needed to come down to the hospital to fill out some paperwork to list him on the birth certificate since he wasn’t married to Delia. He also needed to name the baby; the custody agreement stipulated that would be his right. Though we knew the baby could be born at any time, the phone call was like a nuclear explosion in the front yard. We sat there, staring at each other for a moment, the shock on Justin’s face gradually morphing into one of sheer terror. We took a step toward each other at the same time, then immediately whirled in opposite directions as our minds spun out of control. We both seemed to be frantically searching for the supplies we had neatly placed near the front door for just this occasion. Once we finally regained our mutual equilibrium—which I admit took at least five minutes—we grabbed the diaper bag. It was filled with every sort of supply which could possibly be required, most we probably didn’t really need for this trip since we were only going to pick him up and bring him home.

  Though we had been flying by the seats of our pants in our preparations, we did manage to remember to buy a car seat. We had taken it to the fire station that morning to make sure it was properly installed in my car. Justin’s Porsche and motorcycle were obviously not suitable means to transport a baby. I drove to the hospital since Justin was a nervous mess.

  “My God, Peaches, I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he said as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. “I mean, I’ve read as many books as I could get my hands on, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to pull this off. I know fuck all about taking care of a child. I’ve never even changed a diaper in my life. How will I know when he’s ready to be changed? What if I forget to feed him?”

  “He’s a baby, Justin, not a goldfish. He’ll let you know when he needs to eat. As far as diapers go, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to smell when he needs to be changed, and he’ll likely tell us that, too. I may not have ever been around a baby myself, but we’ll figure it out. Just relax.”

  “I should have taken those parenting classes. It probably would have helped a lot.”

  “Too late, now. We’re about to have our feet held to the fire. We’ll come out on top, I promise.”

  We met Justin’s attorney in the lobby, and he went over the formalities. Finally, we went to the nursery to pick up the little guy. We both stared at him through the glass window, watching while the nurse prepared him to leave.

  The look on Justin’s face when he saw little Sammy was priceless; his big brown eyes softened and were filled with wonder. The child had a full head of black hair, the same as Justin’s when he let it grow out, and a cute little, scrunched up face.

  “He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Justin whispered to me.

  “He really is,” I was as entranced by Sammy, so I could only agree. The nurse swaddled him in a baby blanket, and he had a tiny baby blue beanie on his head. When the nurse called us in, Justin took him into his arms and held him close. He unwrapped him, so he could count his fingers and toes. We both marveled at how small his hands and feet were. After we oohed and ahhed over him, the nurse took him back and showed us the proper way to bundle him up.

  Justin sat with the baby in the back on the way home, unable to take his eyes off him. He was the worst backseat driver the whole way.

  “Watch your speed, Mimi, don’t go too fast.

  “Look out, Mimi, that car in front of you is stopping.”

  “Justin, I’m at least two-hundred feet behind him,” I said as I applied the brakes. I came to a stop slowly because inside I was as paranoid as he was.

  “People are crazier drivers than I thought. I don’t know why they don’t realize there could be a baby in any of the cars around them.

  “I know. It’s amazing we never considered it ourselves before now.”

  “Maybe we should get one of those signs that say, ‘Baby on Board’.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know that anyone will take notice or care, but we should at least try to get their attention.”

  “Let’s go straight to the store. We need it now.”

  I pointed the car in the direction of the nearest baby store only a short distance from home. We found one of the signs, but after talking to a mother who was shopping with her much older baby, we also picked up a bunch of items that in our ignorance we had neglected to buy. Chief among them was formula and baby bottles. I don’t know how we managed to overlook those. We also stocked up on pacifiers, a nursing pillow the lady told us was invaluable to use while feeding the baby even if Sammy was bottle-fed, and a nifty diaper disposal which sealed the soiled diapers in a long sausage-like link. She insisted it was a must-have.

  Sammy slept during our trip through the store, and we effusively professed what a good baby he was. Of course, that changed by the time we got to the car; he cried the entire way home. It was a tiny little cry, which sounded so cute.

  “Wow,” Justin said. “I�
�m impressed. I always thought babies were much louder than this. He’s so special! I can’t believe what a good baby I’ve got.”

  I chuckled to myself. One thing I did know was babies did indeed get much louder as they got older. I didn’t bother to correct Justin though, he’d learn soon enough.

  As soon as we got into the house, Justin warmed water for the formula while I took Sammy into the bedroom to change him. We’d been given a brief list of suggestions, along with some care instructions from the hospital which we followed to the letter. The instructions indicated he would need to be fed about every two hours in the beginning, but we should first check his diaper to see if that’s why he was crying.

  Sammy kept us both hopping in those early days. It turned out he did cry a lot, and we wondered if that was unusual. It didn’t take too long for him to find his voice, he was very vocal when he needed something. At the end of the first week, we were both exhausted. We had taken turns during the overnight feedings. I kept a baby monitor in my room, so I could take my turn, but by the time I got to the bedroom, Justin always had him cradled in his arms. Though we were both tired, Justin was more so because he hardly ever slept. Friday night, Justin looked at me when we heard him begin to cry.

  “I’m so glad it’s the weekend,” he said to me. “This week has put me through the wringer.”

  “What,” I looked at him and laughed, “do you think Sammy knows it’s Saturday tomorrow and is going to give you a two-day break? I hate to break it to you, but we don’t have weekends anymore.”

  “Oh, my God.” Justin looked at me bug-eyed. “This is my life now. I so don’t have my head wrapped around this, do I?”

  “You might have a little way to go on that score, yes,” I snickered as Justin swatted me on the butt before disappearing into the bedroom. I went to prepare a bottle for Sammy.

  More weeks went by in a sleepless blur. Justin had taken time off between projects to spend with Sammy, but he was so committed to providing for his child, he insisted on getting back to work after only six weeks. I would take care of him during the times Justin worked, but when he was home as soon as he heard Sammy’s cry through the monitor, Justin was with us in a flash. Every time, I tried to reassure him I had everything under control, and he didn’t need to worry about us so much.

  “I can’t help it,” he told me once. “I hear him cry, and I have this compulsion to be with him. I feel guilty when I’m not there for him.”

  “God, you’re like a nursing mother!” I remarked. His only reply was a squint and his middle finger.

  We both agreed when Sammy needed to be fed, Justin could do the honors. I volunteered for diaper duty. He was more than willing to abdicate that responsibility once Sammy’s diapers took on a much more powerful odor.

  We attended his well-baby exams together. I was taking a very active role in his care even though I wasn’t his mother. Everyone assumed he was mine, and I never bothered to correct them nor did Justin. I was thrilled with the idea I could be Sammy’s proxy mom. Sometimes, everyone else would have to fight me to hold him.

  Sammy was completely amazing, but parenting a newborn was tiring and stressful. I hadn’t taken the steps to set up my post-rehab support system like I should have because Sammy’s arrival came so soon. Several times, when I’d been stressed over his crying and was sleep-deprived, I’d find myself wishing I had a little bit of coke to keep me alert and energetic. I’d fight those thoughts, shoving them away as hard as I could and heading straight for the coffee maker for the external jolt I needed, but it was difficult. One afternoon, after a very long night where Sammy had been colicky and fussy and neither of us slept more than an hour total, I found myself hiding in my room with my phone in my hand. I was trying like hell to remember any part of Vince’s phone number or where he worked. My mind even turned to the possibility of calling Blue to make a score. I was scared and shaky, but my addicted brain had convinced me this was the only way to make it through the day. It would only be this one time, and I would never do it again. I felt sick to my stomach, my heart was in my throat, threatening to choke me. I didn’t want to throw everything away. I didn’t want to slide back into that dark place, but I needed a boost to carry on. With tears in my eyes, I began frantically Google searching Vince’s name. I found the number of the office where I thought he worked and had lifted the phone to my ear when Justin burst into my bedroom.

  “Don’t you hear Sammy crying?” he demanded. “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Who are you calling?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only a hoarse gasp came out. Justin took the phone from my hand and terminated the call. He led me to the bed and sat me down on the edge. He left the room, but quickly returned with a chilled bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and held it to my lips; I took from him and took several rapid swallows. He rubbed his hand lightly over my back as I wiped my eyes.

  “What’s going on, Peaches?” he asked.

  “I’m… I’m just so tired, Justin. I love Sammy, I want to do the best I possibly can for him, but I’m so fucking tired today. I can barely stay upright.”

  “So why didn’t you come get me?”

  “You’re working. You need to be able to concentrate. I’m the one who’s here to help you. You shouldn’t have to help me,” I mumbled quietly.

  “Peaches,” he took my face in his hands, “we’re a team. You’re not the nanny or the babysitter. We’re doing this together, and if you need a break, you tell me.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me closer, his expression changing as his thoughts turned. “Who were you calling, Mimi?”

  I dropped my chin to my chest and let my legs slide out in front of me. I wrapped my arms around myself as I answered, “I was trying to figure out where Vince worked, so I could call him.”

  I heard Justin inhaled deeply through his nose, a sign he was barely able to maintain his composure. From my lowered gaze, I could see his hands fist the comforter as he struggled with his reaction to my answer.

  “I don’t have to ask why, do I?” he finally asked.

  I shook my head slowly, feeling so weak and ashamed. What had I been thinking? How could I possibly be any good to Sammy if I was fucked up? I was shit, and Justin should throw me out for even considering it.

  I felt Justin’s hand under my chin, lifting it, turning my face to his. His eyes searched my face, for what I wasn’t sure, but whatever he was looking for, he saw it. His eyes softened, and he nodded his head slowly.

  “I know this is hard on you and there are going to be times like this. You’ve had a lot thrown at you so soon after going through treatment; it’s understandable you’re going to feel the strain and reach for old habits. You can’t give in though, Mimi, you must remain strong. I see the guilt and pain on your face. I know you didn’t really want this. What I want to know is why you didn’t call your sponsor or your therapist?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because it’s not a habit and reaching for drugs is. I have to confess, I haven’t even contacted my sponsor yet. With everything that’s happened since I came home, I never got around to it. Same with the new therapist.”

  “You still could have called Abe, you know,” Justin suggested.

  “If I’d stopped to think about it, I would have realized that, but I only had one thing on my mind. I’m sorry,” I replied sadly.

  Justin pulled me into a side hug. “Now we know one of your limits. We need to do a better job of distributing the responsibilities around here, so you don’t get overwhelmed again. On the chance you do—and you will—you have to work extra hard to ask for help. My help, your sponsor’s help, anything but breaking down and turning to the drugs.”

  I nodded silently, still feeling lower than dirt at how I nearly fucked everything up again.

  Justin tilted my face up to his once more. “We’re going to get through this together, Mimi. You’re not alone, and it’s not all on you. Now, I’m going to go out there and take care of whatever Sammy needs.” He paused as S
ammy let out one particularly loud cry. “I’ll get him settled down. I want you to take off your shoes, crawl into bed, and sleep as long as you need to. I’ll handle the rest of the afternoon and will take care of dinner. Just rest. When you wake up, I want you to connect with your sponsor before you join us. Can you do that for me?”

  I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yes, I can. I will.”

  Justin kissed me on the forehead and stood. “Good. I don’t want to see you again for at least the next four hours,” he said, stroking his palm across my cheek before he walked out of my room and closed the door behind him.

  I sat there for a few minutes, kicking myself until I realized it was self-pity. A catastrophe had been averted, and we were all okay. I needed to stop dwelling on it and do as Justin said, recharge my batteries, and keep fighting. I slid under the covers, closed my eyes, and proceeded to sleep for the next sixteen hours. I woke to a new day, feeling rested and energetic again. As promised, the first thing I did was call my sponsor, Theresa. Abe had set me up with her before I left rehab, but we’d never really had a chance to talk in any sort of depth. Fortunately, she didn’t mind me calling her at eight in the morning. We spoke for an hour, and I caught her up on my life since leaving rehab and told her about my close call the day before. She was a great listener and supportive, but I can’t really say she had any revelations to share. She emphasized reaching out for help in those weak moments and made sure I knew I could call her any time, day or night. Of course, she urged me to get to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting as soon as possible. She made sure I wrote down the next one on my calendar and extracted my promise to be there.

  Once I finished with Theresa, I scheduled an appointment with my new therapist, a woman named Eleanor, for the following Monday. Feeling a little surer of myself with a support system in the works if not in place, I went out to face Justin and Sammy. Justin had him in his swing in the living room while he sat next to it on the sofa, sipping from a large mug of coffee. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy, so I assumed Sammy hadn’t allowed him any rest the night before. I felt guilty again, before masking it with my new, positive outlook. The one I was determined to sell myself that morning.