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Oh what a night it was. The house was quiet, the lights were low, the music was playing. No special occasion, just the two of us feeling romantic and, okay I admit it, a little frisky. His hand went up my leg and I leaned over to nibble at his neck. A few kisses later and we head upstairs to the bedroom to finish what we started. Things start to get hot and heavy. My body is craving his touch and he is more than happy to comply.

Then I hear it. The squeak of the door. The patter of small feet. The whisper of a quiet voice coming from the side of the bed. “Mommy? I don’t feel so good.”

Instantly, he groans and rolls away. I sit up and put my hand to a hot, sweaty cheek. All business, I pull on my jammies and scoop up my youngest son. A few beeps of a thermometer tell me what I already knew: he has a fever. Probably just a cold. I go to the pantry to find the children’s Tylenol and pour the red liquid out of the measuring cup into his waiting mouth. A cool washcloth goes across his head and I hold him until the medicine starts to work.

My husband comes downstairs and tousles our son’s hair. “You feeling better, buddy?”

“A little.”

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

He scoops up our son in his strong arms and carries him up the stairs. I follow and lay back in my bed. Mark lays the boy in my arms and kisses his head. “Get some sleep.”

The springs creak and lips press gently against the back of my neck.

No sex that night.

But plenty of love.

~*~ Julie ~*~

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