by Indra Vaughn
He happily drank the rest of his bottle. When it neared the point the nipple would fill up with air, I took it away.
“Was that satisfactory for you? Because if not, I’ll write to the formula company. After all, milk is such a dull flavor. Maybe we can ask them to add some strawberries, huh?” He blew me formula-flavored bubbles, and I made a face. “Or mint.”
At a loss for what to do, I carried him and the bottle into the kitchen, somehow managed to rinse it one-handed—I figured new parents had to do a lot of things one-handed—and went back into the living room.
“I probably shouldn’t put you on your belly,” I told him.
“Brrr,” he said.
“No, no. Don’t argue. I can be a fun uncle, but I can be strict too. We don’t want to lose all that precious formula again, now do we?”
Milo stared at me and waved his fist.
“I knew you’d come around. How about the bouncy chair? Shall we try that? I spotted some riveting literature in that box of toys over there. What do you think?” I had a scary premonition of this being my future instead of Saturday nights on the town and doing my own thing. I tried not to hyperventilate.
I put Milo down, and he kicked his arms and legs. And that was why Thomas found me cross-legged on the floor, reading Polly Puppy to a six-week-old baby.
“Nice sound effects,” he said, and my face went fiery hot.
“Well, they’re dogs. They’re going to bark.” I rolled onto my stomach and looked at him. “You look better. Did you sleep okay?”
“I did.” He sank onto the floor beside me, in such a graceful way, it shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size. He took my hand in his and looked at me with those sincere brown eyes. “Thanks for that.”
“Aw, pssh,” I said, waving my free hand, feeling flustered. “Milo and I are buds, aren’t we? We have an understanding.” Milo scrunched up his face and gave a dopey smile. “See that? That’s either an ‘I just tooted’ or ‘I just tinkled’ smile. I’m learning.”
Thomas squeezed my fingers lightly. “You’re really good with him.”
“You didn’t see me nearly pass out over the diaper from hell.” Gently working my hand loose, I sat up too, with Milo in the bouncy chair between us. “What are you going to do about work?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Milo waved his fist at him, and Thomas gave him a pinkie finger, which Milo promptly gnawed on. “I called them yesterday. It’d take a while to apply for parental leave, but they agreed to let me work part-time for the next six months. They weren’t happy about it, especially since I took such a long time off a few months ago. I have a friend who runs a day care, but he only has one spot available a week. It’s not enough. I’ll have to look into some of the bigger childcare places. It’s not ideal, but ideal would be Milo having a normal mom and dad, wouldn’t it?”
“He does have a normal mom and dad, Thomas. It’ll take some time to work out the details, that’s all. And I bet my mom will be happy to watch him while you and I are at work.”
“I can’t expect that from her,” he said.
“You’re not. I’m positive she’ll want to. She loves Milo to bits already. She’s thrilled. She always knew she wouldn’t get any grandchildren from me.”
Thomas gave me an odd look. “You don’t want kids?”
I shrugged, not wanting to get into the subject of Sam and his allergy to kids and pets right then.
Thomas sighed. “I’ll ask your mom. But I insist on paying her.”
I lifted my hands. “That’ll be between the two of you.”
Milo kicked his arms and legs and started to complain a little. “He wants you to hold him,” I said.
Thomas raised an eyebrow at me. “How do you know that?”
I shrugged, almost said, Because that’s what I’d like right now, but kept my mouth shut. “Why don’t we go for a little walk in the garden?” I asked. “I bet Milo would like to see some birdies, wouldn’t you?”
Thomas unclasped the straps and awkwardly lifted Milo from the bouncy chair. “I don’t even know how to hold him,” he whispered, and I patted his back.
“You’ll get there.”
The house had the kind of deep, mature yard only found in these parts of the city. The reason why we had so much space was thanks to the hospital down the street. We had to put up with ambulances leaving at all hours of the day and night, but to be honest, I didn’t even hear them anymore. The yard was worth it regardless. A slice of heaven walled in by six-foot brick walls, with old oaks and big weeping willows, and flower patches I hadn’t bothered with the last two summers. Maybe I should. It was my slice of heaven, and I wanted to take care of it.
Milo stared at everything with big, blue eyes as the wind rustled the leaves around us.
“I’ll go get a blanket,” I told Thomas. “I’ll be right back.”
I ran inside, grabbed a throw from the couch, and hurried outside. Thomas was pointing at a little red robin, talking softly to his son.
Holy crap, he had a son. And they were going to live with me in Sam’s house. In my house. I’d been ready for a tiny step toward maybe having a relationship again. Was I ready to play family? Without the benefits?
He hadn’t heard me approach, so I took a moment to watch them together, this handsome man with a small baby on his arm. My heart hurt a little bit. Sam hadn’t been a father figure. And because children weren’t something Sam wanted, I’d automatically assumed I didn’t want any either.
But seeing Thomas there, blowing gentle bubbles on the palm of Milo’s hand, awakened something within me that burned hotter than any kind of desire I’d experienced before. Milo smiled wide, and Thomas laughed, wondrously. The problem wasn’t going to be having them here. The problem would be living with them and keeping my heart out of the equation.
“Here,” I said, carrying over the blanket. “I’ll put it down in the shade. I bet Milo would love to look at the leaves and the clouds.” I straightened the corners and rose.
Thomas grabbed my arm when I turned away. “Stay.”
“But you probably want some bonding time. I don’t need to—”
He ducked his head so he could look straight into my eyes. “Stay,” he murmured again. And who was I to say no to that?
As I was bringing the blanket out, I’d had this idyllic image in mind of the three of us lying on it, baby Milo giggling as we pointed out shapes in the clouds. In reality he started fussing after fifteen minutes, and for the next forty-five, Thomas and I took turns wandering around the garden. Apparently Milo wasn’t on board with my romantic notions but wanted to be carried around until our arms threatened to fall off.
When even my magic bounce didn’t stop his fussing anymore, we made our way inside, ready to tackle the mysteries of diaper changing—in other words, wake my mother. We found her already in the kitchen, doing that morning’s dishes.
“You two change his diaper,” she said when I cheerfully tried to hand her Milo. She rudely ignored me. “And then come dry the dishes.”
Thomas shrugged at me, so we went into the living room instead.
“Liesbeth showed me yesterday,” he told me as he grinned. “So I’ll talk you through it.”
“Oh, I see how this goes.” I gingerly sniffed Milo’s behind, then promptly promised myself never to do that again. At least I didn’t get a whiff of the pits of Mordor this time. “Fine. But the next numero deux is all yours.”
Thomas laughed as I undid the onesie and pushed it out of the way. Carefully I eased the Velcro loose and tugged the wet diaper out from under him. “This thing weighs a ton,” I said as I handed it to Thomas. “At least we know his equipment works.” He gave me a droll look. “Okay. Wipes.” I plucked a wipe from the box, used it so gently I probably shouldn’t have bothered, then didn’t know what to do with the wipe.
“Next time keep the diaper under him until you’re done with that, and you can wrap the wipe inside.”
“Okay, Mist
er Experienced, how about you do it next time?” Milo cooed like he thought that was funny, and I smiled at him. “Yeah, you and I, we understand each other, don’t we? Yes, we do. Yes, we do, you cutie poo.” Oh my God, why was I using my I spotted a cute dog voice? I plucked a diaper from the box, studied it to make sure I didn’t put it on backward, and glanced over my shoulder when my mother walked in.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Great,” I said, and as I bent down to put the diaper on, Milo peed in my face.
Thomas at least managed to look contrite as he handed me a towel—after laughing so hard, he cried. My mom had no such scruples. She kept laughing all through finishing the job of changing Milo, then burst into laughter again every time she looked at me as I helped her with the dishes.
“I’m going to go home for a bit,” she said when we were done. “But I’ll be back tonight so you boys aren’t here by yourself. Milo will need another bottle in an hour or so.”
Thomas made a noise that sounded mildly panicked as he held Milo in his arms.
“Hey, Mom, before you go, Thomas needs to talk to you.” He gave me the stink eye as I fled the room, but it served him right for laughing at me.
I went up into my bedroom and felt a soft peace descend on me as I closed the door. It was good to be alone for a minute. I took my time showering and changing my clothes. After, I sat down on my bed and glanced around the bedroom that had once belonged to two people so in love, they’d never considered a what if. The picture on the nightstand called to me, and I lifted it. Sam smiled at the camera. He had his arms around me from behind. It was a meaningless shot, really. No big day, no big deal, but it brought out everything that had attracted me to him from the very beginning. His gorgeous smile, his sophisticated face, his kind, warm eyes.
“There’s a baby in our house, Sam,” I whispered. “An actual, crying, wailing, pooping, peeing baby.” I laughed disbelievingly. “You’d have hated it. Hated it. But I have to tell you something. I love it. He’s only been here for a day, and I love him already. If you were still here . . . I don’t know. I think I might’ve wanted a child of my own someday. But you would never have wanted that, would you?”
I quietly began to cry and wiped angrily at my tears, not understanding where they came from this time. I was so confused by my own feelings. I just wanted to talk to him one last time. He’d know the answer even when I didn’t quite know the question.
I put the frame down again. It didn’t matter. Sam wasn’t here, but Thomas and Milo were. My tears dried and my heart ached in a good way as I left the peace in my bedroom behind. Thomas and Milo were on the couch.
Without thinking, I walked up behind them and pressed a kiss to Thomas’s hair. He looked up, startled, and I made an O face at him when I realized what I’d done.
“Um,” I said. “I don’t know why I did that.”
He flushed a gorgeous pink. “That’s okay,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t mind.” He patted Milo on the back. “He won’t burp. He wouldn’t burp last night either, and then he cried for an hour.”
“Give him here,” I said and took Milo from his arms. I held him against my shoulder and walked around the living room until he let out a little burp. “Do you think he’ll sleep when he’s done?”
Thomas took Milo back to give him the rest of his bottle. “I think so, yes.” He held my gaze, and I realized I really liked the way he looked at me.
“I’ll make us some lunch. And maybe afterward we can go for a walk.” I’d seen something folded up that looked like a stroller. How hard could it be to put that thing together?
“That sounds nice,” Thomas said, and I left them to it.
Knowing I’d have guests, I had stocked up the fridge. I decided to show off a little. I couldn’t cook much, but I made a mean salad.
I opened a can of tuna, drained and rinsed chickpeas, chopped iceberg and arugula, quartered grape tomatoes and olives, and then coated the chickpeas in the oil from the tuna. After I tossed it all together, I cut up a fresh French baguette, put some Brie on a platter, and tugged a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge. The country-style kitchen had a big, white-oak table, and I set it with cheerful orange-and-white placemats, the nice cutlery I’d bought when Sam and I moved in, and wineglasses, because why not. We would drink water in style.
Just as I put the salad, bread, and cheese on the table, my phone buzzed. It was an email from Stan.
Oliver,
I believe it’s important to move ahead at this point in time. If you have had the chance to think things through, please let me know what you have decided, and I will set the ball rolling as quickly as possible.
Once I receive the go-ahead, I can find out what will be required to buy them out. I still have high hopes for a figure below fifty percent.
Regards,
Stan
Thomas walked in, closing the door softly behind him, so I quickly typed out my short answer and stuffed my phone away.
“Is he asleep?” I asked. Suddenly I had a weird feeling—not déjà vu exactly, but something similar, like a premonition. Or maybe it was wishful thinking, because I could get used to Thomas coming down the stairs with a baby monitor in his hand so we could enjoy a moment of quiet together.
He set the monitor on the counter. “Yes, Milo was out before I even put him to bed.”
“Take a seat, you must be hungry.”
“Starving.” He pulled a wooden chair out and sat. “This looks great, Ollie.”
“Thanks.” I piled some salad onto his plate and moved the bread basket closer as he poured us each some water. “How does it feel now? To have, you know, a son.”
Thomas laughed softly. “I still don’t quite believe it. I woke up from that nap wondering what I was doing in your guest room, and then saw that crib. It all came back to me. God.” He put his fork down and covered his face. “I’m a dad.”
“Yeah. I can’t quite believe it either.”
We ate in companionable silence, either too tired or too shocked by the whole circumstance to really say much. Milo was still asleep by the time we’d tidied up the kitchen, so we brought the monitor with us and sat on the patio outside.
“What will happen with his mom?” I asked.
“She can have no visitors for two weeks, and then they will evaluate how she’s doing. If she’s well enough, we can go see her once or twice a week, depending.”
“And then what? Do you think you’re going to try to be parents? Together, I mean?”
“No.” He let his head fall back on the chair and looked at me. “I’m not going to do that to her or Milo. I don’t love her, and she doesn’t love me. It’d be a disaster. But I hope she’ll let me be part of his life down the line. And how crazy is that? A week ago, that sounded like my worst nightmare, and now . . .”
“It was a shock last week. And you’ll be part of his life. She can’t shut you out.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to, but yeah. If it came down to that.” He widened his eyes at me, and I thought I could fly in the infinite depth of them. “Jesus. I’m a dad.”
I had the feeling he’d be saying that a lot over the next few weeks.
Milo woke about an hour later, crying for we had no idea what. It wasn’t time for food, we changed his diaper, we took him into the yard, we read him stories, and on he cried.
“Let’s try a bath,” I said, at wit’s end. My last nerve was being shredded like someone needed it for nerve zest. “The master bath is probably better.”
“Whatever,” Thomas said, a slight bite to his tone I tried not to take personally. “As long as it stops.”
We put towels on the floor and undressed him as the bath ran. As soon as he was naked, Milo seemed a lot happier. “Maybe he was hot.” Thomas rose to adjust the temperature of the water.
When it was full enough, Thomas leaned over the edge into the tub, Milo lying in the crook of his elbow, and gently lowered him. I leaned aside and watched as Thomas s
cooped water over Milo. Father and son stared at each other, dark brown eyes into blue. They were absolutely absorbed, unaware of me watching. Milo stretched out his arms, and Thomas smiled.
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Thomas asked as he glanced at where I stood, clutching the towel because I was afraid my chest cavity might open up to let my heart flop out. As if to say, Here, I’m done with it. You can have it. Please don’t trample on it too hard on your way out.
“He is,” I croaked.
That night we put Milo to bed together. Again I thought maybe I’d be intruding, but again Thomas pulled me into the room and included me. I sat on the bed as he gave Milo a bottle and rocked him to sleep in the chair. Feeling a little bit awkward but mostly overwhelmed with this . . . want. And it wasn’t just a physical desire. It ran deep like a vein of crystallized minerals in a mass of rock. I wanted to curl up on the couch with him after the day we’d had, and either wrap his arms around me or put his feet in my lap and rub them.
When he finally eased Milo into his crib, I turned on the monitor, Thomas grabbed the second part he’d need to hear Milo, and we crept out of the room.
“How long will he sleep for?” I whispered.
“Four to six hours if I’m lucky.”
“And he’ll need another bottle then?”
“Yes.”
I nodded and stuffed my hands in my pockets. Ask him, damn it. “Do you want to—” I began, just as he said, “So I guess I should grab some sleep.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I looked down.
“What were you going to ask, Ollie?” Thomas said, so softly I had to look up again.
“Oh, nothing that can’t wait. Night, Thomas.”
His fingers curled around my elbow, and suddenly he was very close.
“I don’t think it can wait.” He ran his hand through my hair, cupped my jaw, and thumbed my cheekbone before gently resting his hand at the back of my neck. I was caught in his gaze as I stared up at him, his face in shadow in the semidarkness of the hallway. He was so gorgeous, I thought my knees might give out. When he spoke again, I couldn’t look away from his full mouth. “I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing,” he murmured. “But today you just about blew my mind.”