by Olsen, Isla
The space in the bed beside me is empty, which isn’t all that unusual considering Blake tends to be an early riser. After a few more minutes of snuggling under the warm covers, I manage to drag myself out of bed. I stuff my feet into a pair of UGGs and throw on one of Blake’s massive sweaters before wandering off to locate my husband.
I find him out on the deck, crouched on all fours and surrounded by a bunch of tools and lengths of plywood.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand. “It’s freezing out here.”
At the sound of my voice, Blake gets to his feet and comes toward me, a soft smile on his lips. “Morning.”
He leans down to kiss my cheek and I immediately smell the ocean on him; he must have been for a surf earlier. Because, of course, surfing in January is exactly the kind of thing my husband would do.
“Well?” I ask, canting my head toward the tools sitting on the deck.
“I’m making a gate for the deck,” he explains. “We’d need it anyway, what with Dylan walking now, and Chase not far away. I know Bax and Wyatt can get themselves down the stairs okay and are old enough to know they need an adult around if they want to go in the water, but I’d still rather not risk it.” He shrugs. “I was going to wait until it got closer to summer, but that’s not an option anymore.”
I offer a broad grin and lift my arms to wrap around his neck. “That’s so sweet of you. I had no idea you were so crafty.”
“Come on…you know I’m good with my hands.” He flashes me a teasing grin before cutting off my chuckle with a deep kiss.
“Do you need help?” I ask as we break apart.
“Getting off? Always.”
I lower my hands and step back a little, playfully hitting his bicep. “With the gate.”
He smiles. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you have some breakfast and then you can do your check of the rest of the house.”
The check of the rest of the house consists of making sure this is as safe, comfortable, and positive an environment as any social worker could possibly want for a child. We went through the exact same process earlier in the week with our brownstone, and honestly I think it’s a miracle we managed to pass; I never considered how not kid-friendly a house with about six flights of stairs and an elevator is before now. The stairs were reasonably simple—we just added gates…on every single level. The elevator though? That was trickier. Fortunately, Blake’s a genius and managed to come up with a cover for the call button so that only someone with longer, adult fingers can reach it. It wouldn’t hold up if Ryder got clever and used a pencil or something, but it seemed to impress the social worker and she passed us for the home visit.
Now we just need to pass this last test…
I lock away all our alcohol in a high cabinet, test all the smoke alarms, and check that the fire extinguisher in the kitchen doesn’t need replacing. I also childproof with gates for the stairs and latches for the kitchen drawers and cupboards that contain knives and other potentially dangerous items. And I put some little rubber stoppers on the edges of the coffee table, just in case Ryder were to have a seizure and hit his head, this would at least cushion the impact a little.
Once I’m done with the childproofing, I head into the pantry and retrieve the bags of groceries we bought with us yesterday. I dig out the stuff we bought for our home first-aid kit, still completely appalled that this has been my second home for over a year and I’ve only just now realized we don’t have one. Some nurse I am. As well as all the usual first aid supplies, we also bought children’s Tylenol, Spider-Man Band-Aids, a children’s thermometer, and kids’ sunscreen. I put everything in a plastic box and then store that up in a high cabinet in the kitchen, well out of any child’s reach.
I then unpack the groceries into the fridge—all the best stuff from the bottom of the food pyramid. Thanks to Blake, we’re pretty good eaters in this house anyway, but we’re making the extra effort to buy kids snacks that are organic and healthy and won’t lead to Ryder’s teeth falling out. Except the ones that have to, obviously.
By the time I’m done with all this, Blake has finished the gate and he helps me set up Ryder’s room, which is right next to ours on the ground floor. We didn’t have time to get a kid’s bed, so we’ve decided that here in the Hamptons he can “make do,” as Blake puts it, with a queen. We’ve got him a new Sesame Street comforter set, though. And we’ve filled his closet with a whole bunch of new clothes—much of them red, or at least partly red—just like we did in the city.
“God, I really hope we pass,” I say with a sigh as I stand in the doorway looking at Ryder’s room.
Blake comes up behind me, wrapping his strong arms around me. “We need to be patient, sweetheart. If we don’t pass tomorrow, we’ll just take whatever notes Abigail gives us and try again. And then again. Until, eventually, we do pass.”
The next day, Abigail, the social worker in charge of Ryder’s case, comes by for the inspection and I’m ecstatic to see she has Ryder with her. She explains to us she wouldn’t normally bring a child on a home visit, but as Ryder’s been in her care since his release from hospital there wasn’t really much choice.
“Owen!” Ryder calls, his face breaking into a wide grin.
I step forward and crouch down in front of him, smiling at the sight of the Elmo stuffy clutched tight in his arm. “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. The hostapul looked after me.”
I smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Ryder, maybe you’d like to stay with Owen while Blake shows me around?” Abigail suggests.
I imagine Ryder and I are probably wearing matching expressions right now as we look up at Abigail—wide, hopeful eyes.
Abigail offers a wry smile. “It’s fine.”
I take Ryder’s hand and lead him toward the living room. “Do you like coloring, Ryder? We have some crayons over here.”
He nods enthusiastically and I retrieve the crayons and a coloring book from the shelf where I stashed them yesterday. I set them out on the coffee table and watch with affection as Ryder finally sets down Elmo and dives on the crayons.
A little while later, Abigail and Blake return, calling me over from where I’m coloring with Ryder.
“I’ve seen everything I need to see,” Abigail says. “And I think you two can provide a wonderful home for Ryder.”
I let out a little squeal of excitement, throwing myself into Blake’s arms. “Oh my god, it’s actually happening. He’s coming to live with us. We get to take care of him.”
“I know,” Blake murmurs, gently stroking my arm. “I know.”
“There are some forms I need you to sign,” Abigail says, cutting into our emotional display. “And I’ll need to talk you through his medication. It’s probably a good idea to check in with his specialist when you’re back in the city so he can give you a thorough break down of everything that’s involved with Ryder’s condition.” She draws in a breath, her eyes landing on Ryder, who’s still happily coloring. “But, if you’re okay with it, I can leave him with you now. You’ve passed all the checks.”
Blake and I both nod enthusiastically.
“We can take him now,” I say. “We have everything he needs here.”
“I know,” Amelia says with a soft smile. “I saw.”
23
Heath
* * *
It’s the tenth of January—two days after the due date—when I hear “Baby” blaring from my phone. It’s just after eleven and I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth before heading to bed, so I race out of the bathroom and stumble over the couch, lucky not to stab myself in the eye with my toothbrush as I trip and land on the floor. Glancing up, I see Dec has already answered my phone and is wearing a wide-eyed expression.
“Okay. We’re on our way.” He ends the call and turns to me, still looking completely freaked out. “The baby’s coming!”
“Like, right now?” I say through a mouthful of toothpaste. “I’m in my paja
mas!”
Finally looking a little more relaxed, Dec chuckles. “I think you’ll have time to change. And spit. She said her water hasn’t even broken yet.”
I drag myself up and rush back into the bathroom, spitting and rinsing before wiping my face on a towel. “How does she know she’s in labor if her water didn’t break?”
Declan shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess pregnant women know that kind of thing.”
“Maybe it’s a false alarm?”
“Maybe. But we should get to the hospital anyway. Melissa said her mom’s with her, but we need to be there if things progress.”
* * *
It’s not a false alarm. It’s the real deal. And it’s taking fucking forever. After waiting at the hospital for about eighteen hours, surviving mainly on coffee and vending machine snacks, we finally get to move into the delivery room for the big event.
“Okay, baby’s coming. I need a big push, Melissa,” the doctor says.
“Oh my god—I can’t believe you ever found vaginas attractive!” Declan exclaims, his mouth gaping open in horror as our baby starts to emerge.
“Well, it’s not like the girls I was with all had babies coming out of them!” I cry back as my stomach turns over at what is definitely a pretty terrifying sight. And yeah, if I didn’t already prefer dick these days I have a feeling this would be enough to do it. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to enjoy seeing vaginas in porn anymore.
“God, this is so much more disgusting than birthing a calf,” Dec mutters.
“Thanks guys, you’re being so helpful,” Melissa says with a groan.
“Okay, Melissa, baby’s being a little naughty. Trying to come out shoulder-first,” the doctor says, reaching for one of his instruments from a nearby tray.
My eyes flash toward the doctor. “What does that mean? Are they okay? Are they stuck in there?”
The doctor smiles kindly at me. “It’s fine. We’re just going to do an episiotomy to give the baby a little more room. And if baby’s still not budging after that, we’ll use the vacuum.”
“The what?” Dec asks.
“It’s when they use suction to get the baby out,” Melissa’s mom, who’s acting as her coach, explains. Although that doesn’t really help clarify things all that much, to be honest.
Watching the doctor, I see him move his blade toward Melissa. “Wait…is he going to—oh my god…”
And then everything goes black.
* * *
I’m not sure how long I’m out for, but when I wake up, Dec is hovering over me and grinning from ear to ear. “Would you like to meet your son, babe?”
My eyes widen. “It’s a boy? Is he okay? Is Melissa okay? Did she bleed out? I saw the doctor cut her—”
Declan chuckles. “She’s fine. She said she barely even felt it.” He grabs hold of my arm and helps me to my feet.
“Jeez, she’s brave.” I shake myself off and lift a hand to give my head a rub. I don’t think I hit anything hard enough to get a concussion, but I still have a bit of a bump. “If someone sliced into my dick like that I think I’d feel it.”
“Maybe not if you were already busy pushing a baby out of your dick.”
I wince at the terrifying thought. “Oh, god. I can’t believe she volunteered to do that.”
Declan takes my hand and leads me over to where one of the nurses is busy wrapping up our newborn son. She picks him up and holds him out to us; at Declan’s gesture, she places him in my arms. And from the first moment I hold him, I swear my heart’s never been so full.
“We still need a name,” I murmur, smiling down at the perfect little face of my son.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. And about what your mom said…about naming him after your dad?”
My eyes flash up to meet Declan’s. “Dec, we are not naming our son Donald!”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s not what I meant. I was actually thinking we could call him Caplin.” He offers me a soft smile before transferring his affectionate gaze to our son. “Just because you gave up that name when we married doesn’t mean you can’t still pass it on.”
“Caplin,” I murmur. “I like it. Even if it is kind of a young adult fiction name.”
The next day, we’re able to bring little Caplin home to our apartment, where he has a very successful first meeting with Bucky. Declan and I took it in turns last night and this morning to come by to feed and walk Bucky, and to let him sniff some of Cap’s things—yes, including a dirty diaper—so he’d already be used to the scent before we brought the baby home. We’ve been a little concerned over the past few months about whether Bucky might not like having another creature in the house who takes up so much of our attention when he’s used to having it all lavished on him, but so far—and admittedly it’s only been a few hours—he’s been a champ.
This evening we have a Zoom catch up scheduled with Declan’s entire family, but before then we want to give Caplin a bath because he still has bits of gunk on him, and no one wants to see that.
We decide to use the kitchen because there’s more space in here than in our tiny bathroom. While Declan takes his time choosing the outfit Caplin’s going to wear for his first time meeting all the Kellys, I set out a clean towel on the counter, along with some baby wash cloths, and another smaller towel for drying him. Then I fill a bowl with luke warm water and set it on the counter next to everything else.
Finally, Declan enters the kitchen with the onesie he’s selected and a fresh diaper. And, of course, the baby.
Declan’s brows shoot up as he sets eyes on my sponge bath set up. “Wow, do you think that bowl’s big enough?”
“He’s still got bits of gunk on him. We need to do a thorough job.”
Dec just shakes his head with amusement. “Okay.”
He brings Caplin over and sets him gently on the towel I’ve laid out on the counter. He’s awake but not fussing, and fortunately that doesn’t change when we strip him out of the little gray onesie he’s wearing. I guess we’ll just have to see how he reacts once we put water on his skin…
“Jesus, that thing’s disgusting,” I say, screwing up my face at Cap’s umbilical cord stump. “It looks like a shit coming out of his stomach.”
“When was the last time you did a shit that looked like that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t exactly see my own shits as they come out.”
Dec lets out a breath of laughter. “Can we please stop talking about shit and just clean the kid. Everyone will be waiting for us.”
I grin and pick up one of the little washcloths, dipping it into the bowl of water—right at the exact time that Bucky decides to come up behind me and head-butt me in the ass. I end up flipping the bowl over and dousing myself and my immediate surroundings in water, although thanks to Declan’s lightning-quick reflexes, the baby is spared. Meanwhile, the bowl goes flying and somehow lands on Bucky’s head, prompting the silly mutt to start crashing into the kitchen cupboards in an effort to dislodge it.
I roll my eyes and remove the bowl, earning a grateful lick from Bucky. “Seriously, dude. You could have just lowered your head and it would have come off.”
Turning back around, I see Dec with Caplin in his arms, his expression wide-eyed.
I hold up my hands. “Don’t say it. Smaller bowl next time.”
24
Brendan
* * *
When I get home after work I’m immediately hit with the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ve accidentally walked into the wrong house. But as I make my way down the hallway I can see that, despite the unfamiliar scents and sounds, this is most definitely our home. There are Baxter’s PJ Mask pajamas that have been left by the door of the bathroom; there’s Arya’s lovey that’s been dropped halfway down the hallway; even my own trainers are adding to the mess, still sitting by the door where I kicked them off after a brief run yesterday. Yep, this is definitely home.
> I bend to retrieve the lovey as I make my way down the hallway, setting it on the kitchen counter once I get there.
“Is this actually happening?” I ask Wade as I move behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Are you actually cooking dinner tonight?”
Yeah, I realize to the casual observer that question sounds a bit condescending, but that’s really not what I’m going for here. Ordinarily, Wade enjoys cooking, and I like helping him out with chopping and dicing and whatever; but with a newborn and a six-year-old taking up all our time and energy lately, we haven’t exactly been putting much effort into our dinner routine. It’s basically been takeout and frozen dinners my mom’s been making for us.
Wade grins. “Uh huh. Baxter’s at your brother’s place hanging out with Wyatt…”
“And Ari?”
“Asleep. I figured you’d be home by the time she needs anything.”
“Good thinking. So what are we having?” I still have my arms around him and as I talk, I trail more kisses along his neck.
“Nothing fancy,” he says with a soft rasp in his voice. “Just bolognaise.”
“Mmm…I love your bolognaise. I especially love how it needs to simmer,” I say, practically purring the last word as my hand moves south, palming the outside of his sweats over his rapidly hardening cock.
“Jesus, B…”
This is it. This is our moment. With one kid out and the other asleep, it’s too good an opportunity to waste.
“What time did she go down?” I murmur.
Wade’s eyes flick to the clock on the wall opposite the kitchen. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“So we have about fifteen minutes minimum. An hour at the most…”