“Marty texted to say it was almost completely unloaded.” I sent him a text immediately after talking with Monty about his judge friend. Leaving the move until after we came home with our newborn baby sounded horrific. I owed those two so much more than I could ever repay.
“You are the best,” he said or more accurately grunted by the end, my arms holding him close as an uptick of pain was clearly taking place.
I got him inside and settled into a triage room where they asked four thousand questions, none of which we hadn’t already answered either at the intake window or the online registration. Still no Barry and still no word on the judge.
“Good news, dads, a labor room has become available.” That shouldn’t be good news. That should be the norm, but I bit my tongue as they had my mate, soon to be husband, waddle with his barely fitting hospital gown on to his room. Whatever happened to wheelchairs like on television? Making him walk felt barbaric, especially since he was now sporting an IV, which he needed to push beside himself.
“I’m here,” Barry came up to us as we reached the door, completely out of breath. “Elevator was slow so I took the stairs,” he explained as he took over, leading us inside and getting us as settled in as we could be.
The next two hours were hard to watch, and I couldn’t imagine the strength it took Jesse to endure them. Between the increased frequency and strength of the contractions, the invasive checks by doctors who acted as if Barry was an accessory and not part of the team, and the lack of a judge, it was more than I could have coped with, but Jesse was such a strong omega, only once telling me I was never allowed to touch him ever again.
“Knock knock,” Marty came in, hand in hand with Monty, earning him Barry’s stink eye. “Moving is done and Hank is on his way.” I could only assume Hank was the Judge.
“You are not family.” Barry tapped his foot.
“False,” was all Jesse managed to say as a moan of pain barrelled through him. And that was the end of that discussion.
“We are getting near push time,” Barry announced less than ten minutes later.
“No,” Jesse barked. “Not until I’m married.”
“Oh dad, I hate to inform you, but that’s not how this works,” Barry held up a cup of ice chips which Jesse refused. Barry was far more patient than I’d have been for anyone other than my omega, and this was all he did all day long. Well, this and prenatal visits, which weren’t always filled with shiny happy people either.
“No.”
I stood at Jesse’s side, holding his hand and trying to be as supportive as I could. Truth was, I felt completely and utterly helpless. He was in such agony physically and emotionally—he wasn’t much better, and the best I could offer him was a hand to hold and my best attempt at getting us married—an attempt I assumed I failed until in came a middle-aged man whom only Monty seemed to recognize.
“Am I too late?”
Barry took a step his way, and I gave him a firm no in the form of a head shake.
“No, but you will be soon. I need to puuuuuuush,” Jesse bellowed out.
“You have the paperwork?” I jumped over to the bag where the envelope making this entire thing legal sat, grabbed it, and handed it his way.
“You are Dean Brooks and Jesse Henderson?” he asked.
“Not Henderson for long, I hope. I want the baby to have Dean’s name.” And that was when his rush suddenly made sense. It wasn’t about us waiting too long or being beyond ready, although those things were both true, it was about wanting our baby to have the best.
I didn’t correct him that the baby could have had my name regardless. I learned after a fight I now referred to as the “pickle incident” that rationality and pregnancy hormones didn’t always mesh.
“You need to either do this or get out, because this baby wants out—now.” Barry side-eyed the judge.
“Very well. Traditional vows or did you write your own?”
Jesse screamed.
“Traditional?”
“Our own,” he said as he caught his breath. “I, Jesse Henderson, want to be married to Dean Brooks.” He turned his head looking me straight in the eye, “Your turn.” And let out another scream, and Barry silently moved us out of his way.
Shit, was that the head I saw crowning? Fuck, I had no idea things were that close.
“I, Dean Brooks, want to be married to Jesse Henderson.”
Another scream, followed by Barry telling him to push with all he had.
“I pronounce you husbands,” the judge said so fast it almost sounded like one word, and good thing since the next sound I heard was the beautiful cry of our dear baby girl, Billie.
Minutes later she was placed on Jesse’s chest.
“She’s beautiful.” I looked down at her little bald head and her tiny little fingers and toes. “You did so well, love.”
“I yelled at everyone, I gave the world’s worst wedding vows, and I left a mess on the city clerk’s floor—not sure that qualifies as so well.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Do you see her perfect little nose? Trust me, it qualifies.” I brushed a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, husband.” I took the ring out of my pocket and slipped it on his fingers.
“Where’s yours?” he asked, and I placed it in his hand. He slid it on my finger, just as I had his. “And I love you, husband.”
The claps and awwws of Barry, the judge, and our two matchmakers filled the air.
We officially had the most perfect wedding ever.
30
Jesse
I opened one eye as Dean tiptoed into the bedroom and placed a cup of tea on the bedside table. He mouthed, “She sleeping?” and nodded at the bundle on my chest. I gave him a thumbs up, and he blew our daughter a kiss.
Letting Billie fall asleep on me went against everything I’d read and been told. But after a rough couple of weeks where our daughter hardly slept and I was a wreck, I decided to do what felt right for her. For us.
We’d been given so much advice during the pregnancy and after the birth. The delivery was the easy part, I’d quickly discovered. Opinions such as “Do this,” and “Don’t do that” as well as “When my kids were babies, we did it this way,” were constantly being thrown at me by well-meaning family, friends, and total strangers at the supermarket.
Not only was I recovering from giving birth to a bigger-than-average baby, had sore nipples, and little sleep, but I was in tears the first two weeks. Dean held Billie while I curled up in bed wailing that I was a horrible parent and he should take our daughter and leave.
But my now-husband was freaking brilliant. Not only did he take over everything apart from the actual feeding, but he arranged and paid for the midwife who attended the birth to visit once a day, either before or after his shift at the hospital.
Barry showed me the best way to feed, pointed out I needed to sleep when and if the little one did, and to forget about the house. It’d take care of itself and to lean on my mate. Little things which made a huge difference. Barry also explained there was medication and counseling if what I was experiencing was postpartum depression.
In the end, I didn’t need drugs, but meeting up in person once a week with other new dads and chatting online helped me understand I wasn’t in this alone.
Now when people gave advice, I thanked them and did what I thought worked best for Billie, me, and Dean.
Stu adored the baby, thank goodness, though he wasn’t allowed into her room until she was older.
Being in a new house—one that was ours, not Dean’s—helped cement our relationship. I could leave my mark on it and not wonder who’d been with him choosing the drapes or thinking about what had happened on the sofa.
I’d had to come to terms with my mate having and earning more money than me. And unless he lost his job, he always would. So many other new dads didn’t have that luxury.
Our new home was in the burbs and was a bungalow. The number of times I’d walked up and down the stairs in the o
ther place had me determined to buy a house on one level.
A car driving past brought me back to the present. I gently placed Billie in her crib and sipped the now lukewarm tea. Ewww! Dean was cooking when I walked into the kitchen to boil water. “Something smells good,” I said as my mouth watered.
“A cheese omelette, toast, and freshly squeezed juice.”
My stomach rumbled. Feeding a baby made me so hungry, and I was eating more than when I was pregnant. “I’m starving.”
“Good.” He flipped the omelette on a plate and pushed it toward me “Sit. Eat.”
“Billie and I are going to miss you when your paternity leave ends,” I sighed.
“Well, here’s the thing. I’ve arranged to work from home two days a week. We have a study, and I can shut myself away, but be here if you need me.”
I hadn’t told Dean how nervous I was about being left alone with Billie. It had to happen, but I wasn’t ready for it. “I’m so glad.”
He came around to my side of the kitchen island and draped an arm over my shoulder. “I have a confession.”
I stabbed the omelet with a fork. “Oh, yeah, What’s that?” I asked as I shoved the food in my mouth.
“I was panicking about not being with the two of you when I went back to the office.”
The fork clattered onto the plate. “Are you saying you don’t think I can cope?”
He brushed his lips over my hair. “On the contrary. You are a brilliant dad. No, I expected to be on the baby monitor app watching Billie every minute. I’m a wuss.”
“Don’t ever use that word. You’re a father, husband, and mate who adores his family. Every new parent experiences anxiety when they’re separated from their newborn.”
Dean stole some of my omelette. I slapped his hand. “Hey. Cut that out.”
“That’s the cook’s fee.” He danced away grinning. “I get to sample the fare.”
“Do it somewhere else.” As I sipped my juice, I made a decision. Dean’s been honest about his feelings. Time for me to fess up. “I need to tell you something too.”
What’s that? I’m the best cook, mate, and father in the entire world?” He made a sweeping bow. “Why thank you. I accept the award. Is there a prize?” He wriggled his hips as he bent low while loading the dishwasher.
“There might be.” I pursed my lips and winked. “If you’re good.” I grabbed a tea towel and flicked his ass. “But seriously, I kept thinking about being alone with Billie while you were at the office, and I was terrified.”
“What did you just tell me, babe? It’s natural, especially for first-time parents, to experience separation anxiety.”
“That refers to being away from the baby, not your mate,” I said.
“I think it’s the same principle. It takes time getting used to being responsible for a life.”
“I guess,” I replied as I spread jam on my toast.
“I almost forgot.” He raced into the study and came out holding a gift bag.
“For me?”
“Sorry. For Billie.”
“Oh I get it. Now our daughter’s here, I have to take a back seat.”
“Right. Because I’m not more in love with you than I’ve ever been. Not only are you my soul mate, but you are the most amazing dad. And I’ve fallen in love with you a second time.”
This man! My heart pitter-pattered, and a familiar hot longing spread over my body. I peered inside the bag. A mini football. For Billie. “Maybe we’ll have a second quarterback in the family.”
Epilogue
Dean
“Grandpa Marty,” Billie bolted from my side the second her honorary grandfather came into view, nearly knocking him over with her hug.
“Think he’s glad we came?” Jesse joshed as we watched the old man twirl her around as his husband came around the corner, a huge tray of what looked to be mini sandwiches in his hands.
“Pretty sure.” I gave a half wave to Marty and Monty, holding onto the baby carrier I was wearing Joshua in with the other hand. Cognitively I knew they were designed to hold him—that was their reason for existing, after all—but my heart still wasn’t convinced.
“Let me put this down,” Monty brushed past us and set it on the long buffet table. “Sorry about that. Now give me a baby.” He held out his grabby hands, and Marty chuckled behind him.
“You’d think we didn’t have forty guests out back and another bunch coming the way everything was babies this and babies that.”
“And Billies too,” our sweet daughter piped in, still in Grandpa Marty’s arms.
“Most definitely. Nothing brings a smile like a Billie.” He kissed her cheek with a loud smack that had her in a fit of giggles.
“Baby?” Monty brought our attention back to him.
“Only if you can tell us which is which,” Jesse cocked his hip to the side so he could better see Blake.
“You are holding Blake,” he said not focusing on either of us.
“Nice try, Grandpa. Who is holding Blake?” I rotated slightly to be sure and give him a view of Joshua’s nose, the only visible marker between them at the moment. Technically, they were fraternal twins, but with the exception of a slight divot on the side of Joshua’s nose, you’d never believe it. Their personalities, however? That was a different story.
“Dean has Joshua. Now give me a baby before my heart breaks. You wouldn’t want that on such a special day. Would you?” I looked between the two babies and noticed Blake starting to stir and decided that the cry that was going to barrel out of him for food shortly wasn’t something his grandfather needed.
“Of course Grandpa Monty knew. He knows everything. He knew you and daddy would fall in looooooove.” Billie smiled brightly. We had told her the fairy tale child’s version of how Monty knew we would be perfect together, and that was how he became her Grandpa when my parents made a not real grandparents comment once. Her tears taught them their lesson that day, and we taught her about Monty and Marty’s role in our lives. In a weird way, my parents’ inconsiderate behavior bloomed into something amazing.
“That’s right, sweet girl.” I took out Joshua and placed him in Monty’s arms as someone called from behind us. “Look at you, sweet boy. Want to go meet some people? It sounds like we are being beckoned.”
“How about you all go out, and I’ll finish bringing the food in here?” I offered, not wanting to distract from their grandparent time.
“No need. That was the last of the things for in here. Most everything is outside, but you know how Ethel is?” He rolled his eyes at the mention of his sister. “She believes some people will want to eat in here because as you can see this is where all the people are.”
We all shared a chuckle as we headed around the corner and out into the backyard which was already packed with people. We had been later than we had wanted waiting for Billie to wake up from her nap. Whereas so many of her friends dropped naps at two, Billie still loved hers, and Billie who napped was far preferred over one who hadn’t. We didn’t want to bring any grumps along to the festivities. It wasn’t every day a couple celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary.
It only took walking in with Joshua and our almost-five-year-old to have people flocking around the two guests of honor. I recognized most of the people, many from work and the neighborhood where Jesse had lived when we met. But it wasn’t any of them who caught my eye, it was Richard.
“Do you see?” I wrapped my arm around my husband. “Richard came.” I’d always known he stayed in contact with the men but hadn’t quite realized how close he was to them. I gave a wave and the two of us started in his direction.
“It’s great to see you. You look amazing.” I shook his hand.
“You mean fat.” It was then I noticed his little baby bump.
“I mean glowing.”
“You didn’t tell me.” Jesse gave him a half of a hug as he bounced to keep Blake asleep.
“I thought an in-person pregnancy announcement was in order.” His
hand went to his belly. “That and I’m too tired to do much of anything. If my hubby wasn’t able to do the driving I’d still be back at my house.”
“I remember those days,” Jesse lamented. As bad as they were with his first pregnancy, the twins sucked every ounce of energy out of him those first few months. “Where is he? And where is your mini-me?”
“They are around somewhere. Marty and Monty sent them on a scavenger hunt for treasure.” A-freaking-dorable. “I should go find them. Let’s catch up before I leave town the day after tomorrow.”
“Sounds great.” Jesse nodded in agreement. It had been a long time since they had seen each other, and I planned to make sure he had time, even if it meant taking the day off, because there were so many things more important than climbing the ladder at work—something I wished I had seen sooner in my life. Or possibly not. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up on that blind date and we wouldn’t be where we were: blissfully married, with three kids, a cat, and a fish named Blubby. No, maybe things happened exactly how they should have.
“Want to go find treasure?” I took my husband’s hand.
“No need. I have mine right here.”
Blind Date for St. Patrick’s
31
Richard
“Relax, you’re doing great, Rich.” Enrique, the office manager of the medical clinic came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He’d made me feel welcome when I first walked through the door three months ago and had become the closest thing I had to family in this town. “It was crazy busy too, with the strep running amok in the schools.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d given more strep tests and scripts for amoxicillin in my first solo shift than I had the past few months combined. At least it was one of the easy-to-diagnose things. I’d spent the night before thinking of all the illnesses and injuries that might come in that I was in no way prepared for.
Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4 Page 11