Surprise, Baby!

by Lex Martin

  “I hate that all this honesty means telling you about my awful parents.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Just know that I don’t give a shit what they think about us or what we do.”

  I don’t care what they think. Too much.

  I squeeze his hand. “Maybe don’t mention that we’re having butt babies.” He stares at me a long moment, probably trying to understand what I mean. “You know, the cabin? Not having a condom. Going backdoor and everything.”

  His head tilts back, and he barks out a laugh. “Jesus. I fucking love you and our butt babies. Can I make little onesies that say Butt Baby? I bet I could sell a million of those.”

  I smack his shoulder. “No, weirdo. You can’t announce to the world we got pregnant after having anal sex.”

  Hours later, when a tiny but gorgeous Evelyn Beatrice Merritt gets placed in my fiancé’s arms, and a rambunctious but handsome Andrew Thomas Merritt gets placed in mine, I know, without a doubt, that getting snowed in with Drew last winter was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  Even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

  42

  Kendall

  A few days later, we carry our delicate bundles out of the hospital, and as I watch Drew strap baby Evie into the car seat he had Josh install yesterday, my heart is overwhelmed with love and happiness.

  The babies were early, but healthy, thankfully. Every time I lost my lunch or gained a pound or stretch mark was worth it for my precious darlings.

  “She looks so tiny. How is this right?” Drew tugs on the seatbelt to make it tighter.

  I rub my son’s back as I wait in the wheelchair. Hospital protocol means I can’t walk to the parking lot. Fine by me. “Don’t forget the head support wrap thingy.”

  “I used it. There’s still space. What if we have to stop suddenly?”

  “That’s why they’re facing backwards. And why you have three mirrors in the back, so you can see them.”

  He wipes his face, clearly distressed. “I’m driving five miles an hour. Not one mile faster.”

  I chuckle. “No arguments here.”

  It takes us another half hour to get Andy in his seat, all the while Drew curses under his breath and sweats.

  He wasn’t kidding about driving five miles an hour.

  I’d tease him about it, but I understand the paranoia.

  When we get closer to his condo, I’m quiet for a whole different reason, though.

  As I step into the elevator, my heart starts to knock in my chest. We each hold a car seat in our arms as we stand side by side and watch the numbers light up.

  We agreed we’d make do with a few things at his place until we could move all of the baby stuff from my apartment. That’s not what’s making me anxious, though.

  It’s hard not to think about the last time I was here. How heartbroken I felt.

  “Hey.” Drew switches Evie’s car seat handle to his other hand and then drapes his arm over my shoulders, tugging me close. “Everything’s different now. We’re doing this. Full throttle.”

  I smile. “Full throttle?”

  “Yeah. Like, balls to the wall. You and me. Go hard or go home. The full monty.”

  “You know that means full-frontal nudity, right?”

  “Stop trying to turn me on.”

  A laugh spills from my lips. “Actually, yeah, it means the whole enchilada.”

  “Do you want my whole enchilada?”

  Arching onto my tiptoes, I kiss him. “I’d love your whole enchilada. As soon as my kit and caboodle can take it.”

  Whispering into my ear, he says, “Been dreaming about your kit and caboodle.” Then he groans and tucks his head to the crook of my neck. “How long do we have to wait again?”

  I run my hand through his hair. “Four to six weeks. But we can do other things. My hands and mouth are perfectly healthy and eager to service you.”

  “God, don’t say that in public.” The elevator for our floor dings, and he arranges himself with a smirk. “I’m obviously down for being serviced.”

  Just like that, my dirty sex fiend is back.

  Although I’m sure we’ll make due for the next few weeks, I’m eager to go no-holds-barred. The thought of being intimate with Drew again makes my whole body light up, even the sore parts.

  When he opens the door to his condo, I freeze. “Oh, Drew.” Twinkle lights drape all across the ceiling of his living room like a canvas of stars. In the corner are two bassinets and baby blankets and stuffed animals. On the wall is a giant framed photo of our babies, a shot he must’ve taken at the hospital.

  On either side are smaller photos of us. From the cabin. Photos I’d forgotten he’d taken. Of us laughing. Of us falling in love. Of our beginning.

  The place is spotless and smells like a fresh breeze has cleansed it. Drew must have paid his housekeeper overtime to make his home—our home—shine.

  Tears leak down my face as he leads me down the hall and opens the door to the spare room.

  Which is now a nursery.

  I gasp, my eyes wide. “When did you do this? It’s beautiful.” I can’t take in the room fast enough. Two gorgeous white cribs. A rocking chair. Bookshelves with baby books and toys. The beautiful sage-green walls. Plush blankets and more twinkle lights.

  After we set the babies down in their car seats, I throw myself into Drew’s arms.

  “Shh. Baby. Don’t cry.” His palm strokes my back. “Been wanting to surprise you with this for a while. Been wanting to beg you to move in with me.”

  Leaning back, I look around one more time, realizing nothing in here is from the shower.

  Drew. I’ve been so wrong about him. So many times.

  My heart can’t take it, and I sob in his arms.

  When I calm down, I take his face in my hands. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  He hugs me close. “I’m not perfect.”

  “You’re perfect for me.”

  That night, when he’s lying in our bed with Evie snuggled on his bare chest and Andy in his other arm, grinning from ear to ear, I pull out my phone to take a few pictures. I’ve already taken ten million, but seriously, I can’t get enough of this sexy daddy with our littles.

  If only his parents could see how fantastic he is with our babies.

  And that gives me an idea.

  Epilogue

  Drew

  A month and a half later

  “Don’t get too attached, little nugget,” I mock-scold Andy as he opens his toothless mouth to latch onto Kendall’s boob. “Those titties may be for your sustenance, but they’re mine to play with when you’re done. Goddamn they’re lush.”

  Shit, I said that last part out loud.

  Kendall chuckles from her pretzel-like position on the couch as our baby boy closes his eyes and begins to nurse while she proofs a press release on her iPad propped up on a pillow.

  With drinks and diapers and papers and blankets strewn everywhere, we’re a mess. But it all seems to work out, even if we’re constantly juggling kids and stuff.

  I hand KK a tall drink of ice water with lemon—her favorite—and snag Eves from her bouncy chair, planting a smooch on the top of her silky-smooth baby head. Water’s my drink of choice these days, too. I haven’t come this far in sobriety to fuck it up.

  Kendall closes her eyes and takes a sip, then focuses on her iPad again. “You’re distracting me. I’m almost done.”

  “It is my solemn duty to be your distraction,” I say.

  She might be laser-beamed on the words in front of her, but her lips pull up. The truth is, if I actually left my woman alone, she’d wonder what’s wrong.

  This press release notwithstanding, Kendall’s finally taking a break for real from the office. She talks to Tristan daily and video-conferences with her staff often to make sure the transition runs smoothly, but she’s let go of the need to be there physically every day.

  To his credit, Tristan’s not utte
red a word of complaint about the extra work. Maybe I misjudged the guy. Whatever. We get along now, so the likelihood of future fistfights decreases daily.

  KK and I have talked out her plan for going back to work—three days in the office and two from home. Neither one of us wants a nanny, and Kendall’s mom is dying to watch them, so she’ll be helping on Kendall’s days in the office. KK doesn’t have any idea I’ve tricked out the space next door to her office as a nursery and playroom for when they get older. Can’t wait to surprise her.

  I’m also on parental leave because it’s not fair to ask my fiancée to take time off while I jaunt off to the office. Plus, I really fucking like being with my kids.

  “How’s Tristan managing without you today?”

  “Splitting his infinitives,” she mutters, typing with her thumbs.

  “I’d like to split your infinitives, baby.” I waggle my eyebrows like a dork.

  She bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe you just made a press release dirty.” Andy frowns at his mama for the outburst but returns to her nipple with fervor.

  “Like the way we errand. We errand so hard.”

  The appreciative smile Kendall gives me makes my nerve endings tingle. Gazing at her, I’m yet again blown away that she’s mine. While we’ve had plenty of days in sweats and pajamas, today she’s dressed in heather-gray leggings that show off her legs and a navy blue off-the-shoulder sweater accentuating her smooth skin. She’s piled her auburn hair on top of her head in a messy knot that my fingers itch to undo, and every time she flashes me her boob, I get a little turned on.

  Chill, dude.

  Seems my entire body realizes we now have doctor clearance for naked exercise. Not that we haven’t, ahem, gotten creative a few times.

  Cradling Eves on my forearm and against my chest, I stride over to the changing table, where I carefully place her on her back. She kicks in a rhythm all her own, and her arms go up and down like Miley Cyrus is playing her song.

  With the baby gazing up at me, I begin my repertoire of silly faces. While it’s too early for babies to laugh, that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna practice. My personal goal is to be the first one to make them giggle.

  After receiving a raspberry or two on her little belly, Eves sports a jaunty fresh diaper—it only took a few hundred changes for me to get the hang of the procedure—and I’ve tucked her tiny, flailing arms into a clean, fresh baby suit. Once Andy has his meal, if we’re lucky, they’ll take a nap.

  If we’re really lucky, I’ve got plans with Kendall while they sleep.

  And they don’t involve clothes.

  Hopefully.

  Not thinking of how long it’s been. Only thinking about how good it’s gonna be.

  Still, it’s been a fucking adventure being parents. Looking back at when we first brought the babies home, Kendall and I are both so much more confident now.

  To be honest, the first two weeks at home with the kids were a blur. I’m not entirely sure what we did. Survived. Ordered in. Slept at random times. Day turned into night. Night had as much activity as day.

  But now we’re starting to get the hang of it. Most days, at least.

  With Kendall in my—no, our—bed every night, I’m not sure how we ever slept apart. She completes me in a way I’ve never experienced. I just like holding her. Being next to her. Kissing her. Waking up with her in my arms.

  We take turns getting up in the middle of the night, although sometimes a hungry little soul wants to feed from mama rather than a bottle. Still, I try to double up on diaper duty when that happens.

  After some tough nights, we’ve managed to put the kids on a schedule, which makes it easier for all of us. In fact, we’re even doing well enough that Kendall and Evie Senior are talking about having a girls’ night out with Frankie. KK could really use a break, and I like that she’s open to friendship with the Frankaroni. I’ll just have Josh over for diabetic-friendly salad and breast milk.

  To be clear, the second one is for the babies, not us. Not that I’ve thought about trying it.

  With Evelyn ready, I position her on my chest to get cozy, but my phone rings. Kendall smirks at my ringtone—I Love It When You Call Me Big Papa. Hey, Biggie knows what he’s talking about.

  When I see who’s calling, my eyebrows knit together. “It’s my mother.”

  “It’s okay to answer it,” Kendall says with a shrug, switching Andy to the other boob.

  I try not to drool at the nip slip, but the thought of speaking to my mother is like a bucket of cold water all over my nutsack.

  “Andrew.” My mother’s voice comes through the line in a slightly gentler tone than usual. “Your father and I are in the neighborhood. Would it be all right with you and Kendall if we stopped by?”

  What the what?

  I blink slowly.

  I told her we had the kids, the names of the kids, and their birthday, but she hasn’t made a move to meet them, and I haven’t made a move to invite them. I figured I’d do it sometime.

  Maybe.

  If they wanted.

  “They want to come over,” I mouth to Kendall.

  Her eyes tell me a million things.

  That she’s happy they’ve called. That it’s okay for them to stop by. That she wants me to try.

  “Uh, fine,” I say into the phone. “I’ll tell the doorman to let you in.”

  We hang up.

  Still walking around with Evelyn, I turn to Kendall. “So, my parents aren’t—well, I mean… Don’t expect…”

  The warmth in her expression floods me with all the feels. This is what it’s like to have support. “I’m just glad they want to meet their grandkids. Most people tend to be fond of them.”

  It’s true. When people meet the babies, they don’t want to let them go. My Bumble Bee practically had them both singing songs by the time she left, and Kendall’s parents come over every other day. Even Brooke, Kendall’s sister, has fallen for the babies, and Ken’s niece says she can’t wait until they’re older so she can play with them. Hard to believe we created something so small and precious.

  Two somethings.

  Kendall’s barely finished feeding Andy and set herself to rights when my parents arrive. I answer the door with a baby in each arm and nerves in my belly.

  “Hey,” I say, scrutinizing their faces for an agenda.

  As usual, my mom’s dressed in a straight skirt, heels, and a silk blouse, my dad in slacks and a button-down shirt. Not exactly get-on-the-floor-and-play-with-babies wear.

  But my mom’s face breaks into a light smile and her voice lowers to an awed hush. “Are these our grandchildren?” She holds out her arms to take one. “May I?”

  “Yeah, but they just ate, so it’s possible they’ll spit up.” I hand her Evie and reach for a burp cloth.

  I have to give credit to my mom. While I figured she’d hold the babies gingerly, she’s not. She’s a little stiff, and I can tell she doesn’t want to get her clothes dirty, but the coos she’s giving little Evie are those of a grandma, not those of my mother, and the hug is real.

  She heads toward the couch, where Kendall is waiting, and introduces herself.

  “Oh, my dear, you’re beautiful,” she gushes to Kendall. “Thank you for inviting us over.”

  My eyes widen at Kendall. I’ll tell you later, she responds with a look.

  “Congratulations, son,” my father says, shaking my hand as he steps in. I shuffle Andy into the other arm. He eyes the baby. “Strong little ones you’ve made.”

  “And good-looking, too,” my mom pipes up. “Evelyn and Andrew are nice names. I think Evelyn takes after you, son. And Andrew has his mother’s eyes.”

  My parents want to start a relationship with their grandkids.

  Hell has frozen over.

  My dad ambles over to the couch and sits across from us. “And you must be Kendall,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

  He emphasizes the finally, but his voice is l
ess asshole than usual.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Merritt. It’s nice to meet you both.” Kendall shakes his hand firmly, and I can see that he’s impressed. But I shouldn’t be surprised that he and my mother are immediately charmed by Ken.

  My parents don’t stay that long, but they each hold both babies and get a tour of the nursery. I can see my mom holding her tongue about some of my décor, but she’s actually nice to Kendall.

  I let out a breath I’d unconsciously been holding.

  As they get set to leave, my mother says to KK, “If you’d like help with planning the wedding, please give me a call. I know several wonderful caterers and florists.”

  “That would be lovely,” Kendall says graciously. “Thank you for the offer.”

  My mom doesn’t seem to want to let the babies go, but I finally get Evie back and Kendall cuddles Andy. My dad shuttles my mom out the door, then turns and addresses me, gesturing to Kendall. “This woman is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” My dad adopts the warning tone he’s good at. “Don’t screw it up.”

  I smirk. “I don’t plan on it.”

  But I’m so grateful he sees what I see.

  When they leave, I stare at the door, unsure of what just happened, but happy that it did.

  “I have a confession,” Kendall says, holding a yawning Andy. “I invited your parents over. I’ve been sending your mom photos and videos of you and the kids.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Say what now?”

  While I take a million pictures and videos of the kids, I don’t share them. With anyone.

  Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t want their images floating around the web. Not with my social media following.

  I had to be practical, though, and needed to stave off the hangry internet. Frankly, I wanted to stop this Portland’s biggest bachelor-slash-douchebag shit. So Kendall and I brainstormed, resulting in me posting exactly two non-work pictures. One of my hand threaded through Kendall’s that shows her ring. I kept the caption simple: “She said yes.” #ImALuckyPhucker

  And the other, a snap of me wearing a #phuckifino shirt, holding an infant in each arm. You can’t see the babies beyond their two tiny plaid skull caps, but you can see my grin. The caption: #MyPrideAndJoy.