I’m beaming up at him when he hands me the bag in his hand. I open it and find three outfits for Cadan. Two are adorable little overall sets and the third is tiny jeans and a blue t-shirt. I can’t stop myself from making ridiculous noises over them, they’re so incredibly small and sweet. “They’re wonderful, Chance, thank you so much! How can I pick which one?”
“We can’t have him going home in hospital garb. He’s got to look tough for his first outing,” he says with a heart-stopping grin.
“Well if it’s tough he’s going for, I guess we have to pick the jeans and t-shirt, huh? That’ll make all the little baby girls swoon.” I laugh as I pick Cadan up from his bassinet and he stretches, his back curling, legs pulling up tight. I love it when he does that.
“I don’t think he’s ready for baby girls yet, there’s a lot we have to teach him over the next thirteen years or so before he can go that route.” Chance says, and I struggle not to show any reaction to the phrase ‘we have to teach’ because that sounds like Chance is planning on staying in Cadan’s life. I want that so much, for Cadan to have a strong, reliable male figure, that I’m afraid it was just a slip. Just one of those comments made in the moment, without thinking.
Once Cadan is all dressed and the nurse has gone over our release instructions, Chance brings the car seat over for me to put Cadan in. He’s a little small for it and the nurse suggests that we can place rolled blankets around him, but Chance picks up another bag I hadn’t noticed and pulls out a navy blue infant snuzzler. He smiles sheepishly, “The lady at the baby store said we might need this and if we didn’t I could always bring it back.”
“Good daddy thought of everything,” the nurse says, and I’m about to correct her when I see that Chance is nodding and laughing. I don’t know if he’s doing it to avoid me feeling awkward for not having Cadan’s dad here, or if he doesn’t want to make her feel bad for her mistake, but I don’t like the warm feeling that it gives me. Or maybe I like it too much, which makes me not like it at all.
I put it out of my head and take Cadan back out of the seat while Chance puts the snuzzler in, then we snuggle Cadan back into his seat. He fits much more securely now and seems more comfortable. I ask if we can go and Chance picks up the bag again and says, “Just one more thing.”
The nurse and I both are staring at him expectantly when he says, “A guy just doesn’t look that tough in socks,” and pulls the tiniest work boots I’ve ever seen from the bag. I actually squeal. I can’t help it. They’re the cutest boots in the world. I giggle when I realize that not only did the nurse squeal as well, she’s calling other nurses in to see them as Chance fits them on Cadan’s tiny feet.
When all of the nurses are done cooing over him and his tough-guy baby boots, we’re finally allowed to leave. Cadan and I ride down in a wheelchair, though I feel perfectly capable of walking they insist, and wait for Chance to get the truck. This proves to be more amusing to the nurses, visitors and patients that are outside, because while Chance has been very busy getting the things Cadan needs, he has neglected to get a step for his truck. I still can’t get in it without some very unladylike climbing. Instead, he orders me to stay – like a dog – while he snaps Cadan’s seat into the base that’s already in the truck.
Then he just picks me up and carries me to the truck, where we stand for a minute debating whether I should be with Cadan, before he sets me in the back where I want to be. The clapping of onlookers is amusing, but nothing compared to when Chance begins to bow for them, then all but dances to his side of the truck. That’s the moment I realize he really is happy. Truly happy. And I have no idea what that means.
Chapter Eleven
The ride home is uneventful other than Cadan completely stinking the truck up and Chance resorting to making gagging noises as he cracks the window and turns the ac fan on high. I laugh through it all, because despite the smell, the whole situation is hilarious.
We’re almost home so I can change him, and I’m not worried about there not being diapers now. Chance has shown that he’s thought of everything – or at least the people he spoke to did and he listened.
As we pull in the driveway I’m delighted by a big plastic stork in the yard that says, ‘It’s a Boy!’ and a huge banner across the porch welcoming Cadan home. I certainly didn’t expect this. He gets us out of the truck and Shadow comes running around the back of the house. “You left Shadow out?” I ask alarmed.
He shakes his head and smiles at me, “Of course not.” Jace comes around the side of the house, smiling. He’s taller than his brother, though they have the same good looks and slim, strong build. Jace’s hair is longer, and he pushes it out of his blue eyes.
“Hey, Alex, thought I’d come meet my new nephew-by-proxy,” he says with a shit-eating grin. I know the consensus around town is that Jace is the heartbreaker and when he smiles like that, I can see why. He’s a handsome guy and he’s shown me nothing but his kind, sweet side since I got here, but I’m sure he’s got some moves.
“Nephew-by-proxy?” I ask.
“Well yeah. You live with my brother, you’ve become like a sister to me, you’re a friend, we love you, Alex. This little dude, he’s not just yours, he’s all of ours.” He hugs me with one arm as he looks into the car seat. “Look at the tough little dude,” he says, rubbing one of Cadan’s cheeks with a finger. “He’s going to fit right in.” As they walk toward the porch, my heart swells with gratitude and love for two men who have made me feel like I belong.
Stepping inside, I’m assaulted by the smell of food, lots of it, and an incredible amount of noise. The house is filled with people, a few I know and a lot I don’t. I have no idea where all of their cars must be, but this isn’t at all what I expected. Chance is smiling like a fool as he and Jace introduce me to person after person and I know I’m never going to remember them all. It’s overwhelming.
People are kind enough to ask before they touch Cadan at all, and most just don’t touch him, which I’m grateful for. I’m trying to make a graceful exit to my room to change Cadan’s diaper – I hope that’s where his stuff is – when I’m pulled into the dining room by a friendly woman in her forties. She’s making funny faces at Cadan while offering to babysit anytime and telling me how much she and her husband miss having a baby around since her kids went to college, when I see the buffet table.
It’s stacked so high with gifts it appears it could collapse under the weight at any moment. There are so many different colors of pastel wrapping paper, all sizes and shapes imaginable, big fluffy bows and small shiny ones, I burst into tears. The poor woman next to me yells for Chance and Jace as she pats my back and makes excuses about my crazy pregnancy hormones to the other well-meaning guests.
When Chance gets to me, he takes my arm and pulls me upstairs to my room. I’m glad because I need to change Cadan anyway, but I can’t seem to stop crying. He opens the door, nudging me ahead of him, and I’m shocked into silence for a moment before I’m blubbering like a fool again. My room has been completely redone. There’s a new baby dresser, changing table, and crib. I have a new bed, dressers, nightstands – and they’re all in the same beautiful cherry wood. The walls are now a soothing shade of light blue, while mine and Cadan’s sheets and comforters are the same light blue and chocolate brown. A huge black and white framed photo of me holding Cadan hangs above my bed, and I don’t even remember him taking that, but I love it. Everything matches, everything is adult and gorgeous, but still appropriate and soothing for a baby. I don’t know how he managed it.
“Come on, Alex, stop crying. It’s just stuff. You guys needed stuff. You were living out of garbage bags and he didn’t have a thing. I couldn’t have that. I want you to be happy here. Don’t cry. I don’t expect you to pay me back for any of it. I wanted to do it. I wanted to see you smile and laugh, not cry.”
“Thank you so much. This is amazing. It’s beautiful. It’s like living in a hotel. I don’t even know what to do with myself,” I ramble.
> “You could change Cadan,” he says, laughing. “He’s ruining the ambiance with his perfume.” Just like that everything is better and I’m laughing again. It’s true, after all. I love him more than life itself, but my baby boy stinks.
I set the car seat on the bed and get him out, then take him over to the changing table before realizing I don’t know if I have everything I need. Chance sees my uncertainty and opens a door on the front of the table showing me pack after pack of diapers, wipes, baby powder, and diaper rash cream. Everything I could possibly need. He shows me how to use the diaper disposal system he bought and, since he put it together, he’s a total pro. I’m actually a little jealous of how comfortable he seems.
When I unhook Cadan’s diaper though, he runs for the hills, telling me to come back when I’m ready and mumbling something about needing a commercial grade air freshener. My laughter follows him out.
The party was overwhelming to me, but in a good way. Cadan and I got a ton of things from people who don’t even know us and I am more appreciative than I can say. It feels a little like charity, and it’s hard to not let it rub the wrong way. But I know it comes from a good, kind place, and keep reminding myself that they’re not pitying me, they’re trying to help lift me up. I hope I can remember at least some of their names when I see them around town in the future.
I feel more loved and content than I ever have before. One lady even gave us a three-hundred-dollar shopping spree at her second hand clothing shop. It feels as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. Between Chance, Jace, and this wonderful community, they’ve given us everything we need and haven’t asked for a thing in return.
I’m lying on the bed, reading a book on Chance’s tablet while Cadan sleeps in his new crib, when Chance appears in the doorway. “Why don’t you come downstairs with me and Jace? Hang out with adults for a bit. We’ve got chips and dip and we’re going to play Monopoly.” He looks so handsome, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, hip cocked, and ankles crossed. The same old warmth and longing fills me. I want to play with him, but a board game isn’t at all what keeps coming to mind.
“I can’t. Cadan is sleeping and I don’t want to not hear him if he wakes up. Thanks, though.”
He walks over to the changing table and, moving a picture of a cartoon sheep, turns on a monitor I hadn’t noticed before. “You’ll hear him. There’s a handset to this in every room of the house, including mine, but I promise I’ll only turn mine on if I’m watching him at night for some reason,” he looks nervous as he laughs. It’s cute to see him as the nervous one for once and does nothing for my ability to resist wanting him.
“Oh, and there isn’t one in the bathroom, because that would be weird, but you can take the one from the living room or kitchen if you need to take a shower or something. Same goes for the porch. They’ll work all the way down to the water’s edge, Jace and I checked them,” and there’s that sheepish smile I love.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. That’s incredible. They really work all the way down there?” I ask. I consider harassing him about the one in his room, but decide against it since he’s already embarrassed.
“Yep, they do, so you’re definitely clear to come to the dining room and play with us,” he says.
“Great. Only one problem,” I say as I set the tablet on the nightstand and haul myself up from the bed.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“I don’t know how to play Monopoly,” I answer.
“What?” he almost-yells as he stops and spins to face me so fast I nearly walk into him. We both turn immediately to the baby, but luckily, he doesn’t move. “How could you not know how to play Monopoly? Everyone knows how to play. It’s the family classic. It’s THE board game,” he whispers – clearly in shock.
I shove him out of the room and follow behind him. “I’ve never played it before. I didn’t have the kind of life where families sit around and play board games. To me that was fiction, made up to sell books and movies and get people to watch TV shows. That wasn’t how real life was. Real life, for me anyway, was your mom taking off when you were six, then spending the rest of your life staying up all night to make sure your father didn’t choke to death on his own vomit while he slept. Or staying up all night to stay the hell out of his way until he did pass out and then making sure he didn’t choke to death.”
“There were no board games, no birthday parties. Hell, he didn’t even remember my birthday. I didn’t know real people even had birthday parties until I was thirteen and was invited to one. I didn’t go because I couldn’t get her anything, but at least I was invited. Before that I think I wasn’t because the kids’ parents knew who my father was and I wasn’t allowed on the list.”
We haven’t made it much farther than the doorway, and he’s just listening patiently, sad silver eyes trained unwaveringly on mine. “I’m sorry, Alex. I can’t even imagine what you went through. Those parents should have had more sense. You didn’t deserve that. And your mother has really missed out.”
“Nah. The parents were fine. I wouldn’t have been allowed to go anyway and probably wouldn’t have wanted to. I was a loner,” I laugh. “Actually, I guess I still am. And you’re right, I didn’t deserve that, but lots of people get things they don’t deserve and don’t get the things they do. I’m no better than anyone else. If I thought I was, well, I’d be one of those people who hurts people, because they think they’re entitled to do so. I don’t want to be that kind of person.”
“As far as my mother, I don’t know which one of us missed out more. I know I’ve really missed her, and some days I hope she really missed me. But other days? Other days I hope she’s happy, I hope she found what she was looking for, and I hope that she got out before she ended up as broken as me. Not much sense in two of us being ruined, so I hope when she ran she actually managed to save herself.” Since he’s still just staring at me, and I feel uncomfortably exposed, I try to lighten things up. “Let’s go teach me some Monopoly before Cadan gets up,” I say and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Three hours later I lose, no beginners luck for me. But Cadan’s making sounds now anyway, and it’s getting late, so I excuse myself to care for him.
Chapter Twelve
In the passing weeks, we’ve developed a kind of routine. I’m not back to work yet, so I stay home and take care of Cadan. In the morning, I get up the same time as Chance and make breakfast for us both while he’s in the shower. If Cadan is still sleeping we eat at the kitchen island, but if he’s up we eat at the dining room table with Cadan hanging out in his bouncy chair.
Chance leaves for work and I clean up the house, do laundry, and play with Shadow and Cadan until lunch. I eat lunch and watch TV or read while Cadan naps. Once he gets up I decide what we’re going to have for dinner and do whatever else needs to be done, around Cadan’s schedule, until it’s time to start dinner.
Chance calls every day on his way home to ask if I need him to pick anything up, though I rarely do. When he gets home, he always says hi to me and then makes a beeline for Cadan. It doesn’t matter if he’s sleeping, playing quietly, or fussing — once Chance is home he’s getting picked up and hanging out with him.
They usually head into the living room and watch the news until dinner is ready. Cadan is put in his bouncy chair, or if he’s fussy, Chance holds him through dinner. I keep reminding myself that we’re roommates and he thinks of me like a sister – the same as Jace. We’re not that kind of family and he’s not Cadan’s daddy, but it’s getting more and more difficult to remember. Chance says ‘That’s my boy!’ about every cute thing Cadan does. It’s a struggle to restrain myself from fantasizing about how much different my life could have been, if only I had met Chance on that beach instead of Travis.
There are no more late nights for Chance. Since we’ve been home from the hospital Chance comes home after work and stays. After dinner, we let Cadan play on the floor as Shadow keeps wat
ch a short distance away. Around seven, I give Cadan a bath and get him ready for bed, feed him, and put him down for the night. Then Chance and I watch TV together or read separately in the living room.
It’s a lovely existence and I enjoy it more than I ever thought I could. It’s the life of a stay-at home mom, a wife, and I never could have imagined loving it, but I do. I don’t know how I’m going to handle going back to work and I try not to dwell on it.
I put the spaghetti noodles in the pot for tonight’s dinner since Chance should be home in about fifteen minutes. The meatballs are already in the sauce and the garlic bread is waiting to be put in the oven. Cadan is still sleeping so I have the monitors on.
When I hear the door open, I smile to myself, and ask how his day was over my shoulder. He’s early, so I switch the oven on for the garlic bread. I start to turn around to see why he’s not answering me when something hits me, hard, in the side of the face. It knocks me off my feet, and I taste blood as the vision in my left eye goes crimson. Thinking something fell on me, I try to stand up and something else hits me in the same spot. The last thing I see as I’m falling is Travis smiling down at me.
Chapter Thirteen
I wake up shivering. Pins and needles slide along my arms and hands, coating them in agony. Something crawls on my forehead and I try to swipe it away. The pins and needles explode into knives, slicing through me. My hand goes nowhere; I’m lying on my back, hands stretched above me, tied to something.
I try to figure out where I am, but can’t recall anything except Travis standing over me in the kitchen. Where is Cadan? If he’s hurt my baby I’ll rip his heart out myself. I’ll claw it out of his chest with my fingernails. I heave myself up, straining against my bonds, but I get nowhere. I can’t pull my legs up either, but I can’t really feel them to tell why. My head is pounding and I can’t see. I turn my head and rub my face on my shoulder, attempting to dislodge the thing crawling on me. I fail, and my head feels… odd somehow.
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