Light

by Angel Payne

  A new light in my heart.

  As I pull him all the way free and then lay him across Emma’s chest, I see the same comprehension moving across her features. I feel the same bright wonder bursting wide in her soul. It explodes into more intense light through her entire body, translating into a healing power to the incisions I’ve made. We both look on, wrapped in wonder, as our son rolls over a bit, reaching and trailing one of his little hands across the gap in his mama’s body. The moment his tiny fingers connect with Emma’s abdomen, all of her organs rearrange themselves into proper order. And though I’ve got the best seat in the place for witnessing this miracle, I’ve barely blinked in gawking astonishment before the outside incision itself starts fusing back together, already healing with healthy pink skin.

  “Holy…Christ,” I husk out—and then add a silent Thank you, Christ upon realizing I won’t be the one called upon to sew all that shit back up. One good visit with my wife’s innards is more than enough for one day, thank you very much.

  “Huh?” Calvin calls from the front seat. “What’s that, boss?”

  Emma catches my gaze as our boy latches on to one of her breasts and starts sucking. Though her eyes are brighter than supernova stars, they also dictate what I already know. Cal would never believe me if I told him.

  “Right,” I blurt instead. “I said take the next right.” And I do it with burgeoning, blinding happiness. This is our last turn of the trip. At the top of this climb, we’ll finally be at the ridge.

  As soon as Cal stops the car in the front drive, Sawyer and Lydia do their typical pop-out-the-front-door routine. They’re both wearing dorky glittery party hats. As soon as Lydia clears the portal, she blows on one of those weird snake charmer party favors, leading me to one of the few occasions I’m glad not to have had a typical upbringing. While I love my mother, I’m damn sure she’d have a kitten if confronted with one of those things.

  “Shit,” I mutter then. Mom. I’ll have to find a second to call her and tell her she’s just become a grandmother—as soon as I overcome the shock that I’m now officially a father.

  “Heeeeeyyy! You two are heeeeere! Happy New Y—” Lydia interrupts her celebration to crunch a puzzled frown. “Uh…where’s your wife?” she demands as soon as I hoist myself up and then out, standing on the runner with one elbow braced to the car’s roof, the other atop the open door. “Dude? Bolt Jolt? What the hell is going on?”

  I actually manage to cock a brow. “I think you mean what the hell has already gone on.” And then crack a smirk, suddenly and immensely proud of myself. “Or if we’re getting technical, what I’ve already pulled out.”

  Foley, who’s moved forward to hook his arm around ’Dia’s neck, skids to a halt. “Oh, hell.”

  “No, man.” I smile wider. “More like complete heaven. At least now.”

  He doesn’t let me down, going at least three shades paler. “That your way of giving me permission to sit this part out?”

  “Probably a wise idea.”

  “That also your way of saying I need to break out the good whisky?”

  “Another wise id—”

  “Oh my God.” Right on cue, Lydia’s outcry is like a new firework in the night. It’s a verbal representation of the pyrotechnics already bursting inside my entire being—and, as I sweep back down to be with my wife again, the same light show taking over her spirit from the inside out. “Oh my God. Baby girl!”

  “Hmmm.” Emma quirks a teasing grin. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s more like baby boy…”

  But ’Dia’s already activated into holy-shit-the-world-is-detonating mode. “Boil hot water!” she yells at Foley. “And get Neeta! And— And—”

  “Dee Dee.” Emma winces a little but manages to reach and grasp Lydia’s fingertips. She falls back against my lap but doesn’t let go of her sister. Yes, with our son still yawning and happy on her chest. Yes, with her dress in shreds and her abdomen likely feeling like a punched football. Yes, with the happiest smile I’ve ever seen across her exquisite, exhausted face. “Come and say hello to your new nephew.”

  Lydia leans in, her bright-green eyes thick with a tearful sheen. “The most beautiful nephew there ever was.” As she reaches and dabs our son’s nose, making him burst with a soft giggle, ’Dia’s chin trembles. “You’re already a flirty hunk, aren’t you?”

  The tenderness in her voice has me swallowing hard. “He’s already a miracle,” I rasp out. “Just like his mama.”

  As if needing to prove my point, our son bats his little hand up toward Emma’s smiling lips—and then gurgles, “Mama. Yes! Mama.”

  Lydia goes paler than Sawyer. “Holy…shit.”

  “Holy shit!” Our son laughs it out, adding emphasis with a sound smack of his palms. The sound seems to stun him, but he giggles louder and repeats the action. “Holy shit. Holy shit!”

  “Oh dear God.” Lydia blurts it fast enough to make it one word. She jerks her wide, astounded stare up at her sister and then me. “Miracle isn’t the right word for this creature.” She shakes her head. “But I seriously have no idea what is.”

  “Lux.”

  My wife’s reply has both ’Dia and me throwing dazed looks at her. She returns the curiosity in our eyes with the turquoise surety of her own—a confidence that makes its way down to her serene smile. “Lux,” she repeats. “It’s Latin for ‘light’—which is exactly what he is.” She lovingly strokes our son’s strong forehead. “Which is exactly what we’re going to call him.”

  Lydia inches her lips up with an enchanted smile. “Lux,” she echoes before dipping an approving nod. “Yeah.”

  I lower my head until my forehead is resting against the side of Emma’s. Together, we gaze in gratitude and wonder at our amazing anomaly of a son. “Our light,” I murmur, at once accepting how right it feels to speak it. “It’s perfect.”

  “Just like him,” Lydia concurs.

  “Just like us,” I correct her with a jubilant grin.

  Emma joins our baby in a tender chuckle at that. “How right you are, beautiful husband,” she assures—and never has it felt more awesome to dazzle her with one of my fast, cocky, you-just-made-my-day winks—before I whip out the comeback that makes perfect sense for this perfect moment.

  “I usually am, gorgeous wife.”

  Chapter Four

  Emma

  “Holy shit!”

  Lux ends his delighted shriek with wild applause, the smacks echoing out from the den and through the house like comic-book gunfire—with all that pretend residue turning into bitter grit between my grinding teeth. Not a fun sensation when one is in the middle of trying to master farm animal cake pops. And really not fun when one’s big sister is sitting across the kitchen counter, giggling about the fact that this has been a daily occurrence for the last ten months.

  I glower while shoving a new tray of unfrosted pops at her, along with the bowl of yellow “chicken” frosting. “This is still all your fault, missy.”

  “Heeeyyy.” She sticks out her tongue before sliding a new ball through the Big Bird-colored goo. “How was I supposed to know your ‘miracle kid’ already knew what words were, let alone the trick of connecting them to stuff?” As she lets the excess frosting drip back into the bowl, she goes on, “I was just the auntie who thought we’d get to do ‘mama,’ ‘dada,’ and ‘the duck goes quack’ first.”

  I purse my lips. “So I guess an apology is overdue.”

  She swipes up her free hand in a dismissive wave. “Let’s leave the silliness to the boys in the next room.” Then cocks her head and kicks up one side of her mouth. “No apologies—but perhaps a few explanations? Considering you have a kid in there who looks like a ten-month-old but is walking, talking, and nearly applying for college—and you’re still all Zen World supermom, as if all of this is normal?” She frowns at the dripping ball, which has begun looking like a lemon instead of a baby chick head. “So what gives here, baby girl? You do know none of this normal, right? So where’
s the Easter Egg in this plot? Are you freaking out in private or…”

  “No.” I attempt a small smile between my measured breath in and my resigned exhalation. Lux’s cognitive progress isn’t the only factor around here that’s running faster than it should. I owed this explanation to ’Dia a long time ago but have been taking advantage of her tactful distance from the subject. “Reece and I were well aware of his…errrmm…uniqueness…long before he turned himself into our New Year’s present.”

  “And?” she prompts when my silence extends too long to be a simple pause. “You’ll have work harder than that to drop my jaw, sister. You think I didn’t figure this out after”—she laughs as a new spattering of claps and a fresh “holy shit” cut in on her from the den—“the first time he did that?” she concludes, giving up on the lemon-shaped pop and starting anew with another. “But I’ve been holding back on pressing you about it,” she goes on, her expression softening. “It’s one thing when you’re a mere mortal with a new baby, dealing with every damn detail of life that changes. Gotta be a whole new level of stress when you’ve given birth to Sonic the Super Baby and can’t tell your own mother about it.”

  I laugh because it’s better than tears. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  ’Dia growls and then palms her forehead. “Annnnd I evidently am not thinking like a sane person today.” And then lurches off her barstool and rushes to my side of the island, scooping me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, baby girl. That had all the sensitivity of a floor full of Lego bricks.”

  “That mean you’re volunteering to help my kid pick his up?” As soon as we share a good giggle at that, I tug her into a new hug. “Listen. It’s fine. You can walk on Legos around here but not on eggshells, okay?” I shrug. “Things are what they are with Mom. Maybe one day, and hopefully soon, she’ll have her sanity back.” I force as much positivity into it as I can, despite the fact that Reece and the team—which now includes Calvin, who’s faking his way through a continued relationship with Juliet in hopes of the girl giving up more details about Faline’s location or plans—haven’t gained a shred of new intel to act on. “Until then, at least Lux has the blessing of one grandmother, as well as—”

  “Grandpy Todd!”

  The volume of my son’s shriek makes his previous cries sound like gentle rainfall. Sure enough, Lux is answered by the rhythmic rap with which ’Dia and I are all too familiar. For years, it was the tap that served every purpose from summoning us to dinner to reminding us to start homework. Because of that, we trade commiserating grins while listening to Sawyer challenge Lux to a race for the front door.

  “Ahhhh, it really is our paternal unit, baby girl,” my sister remarks, leaning over to cast a smile down the hall, toward the front foyer. “And oh my, does he look snazzy.”

  “‘Snazzy’?” I tease. “Thank you so much for the red-carpet commentary, diva.”

  “Most welcome, daaahhhling.” She giggles.

  I plunk down the last of the white lamb pops to join her in watching my little guy and her big guy slide onto the area rug inside the front door. We chuckle softly together as Sawyer and Lux go down in a raucous heap, flashing glimpses of gold hair, bluejeaned butts, and Aquaman T-shirts. “I just thank God he did a while ago.”

  Lydia folds her arms and rolls out a sardonic expression.

  “Oh, hell,” she quips past quirking lips. “I’m in love with a cheeky meatcake.”

  “Then thank God you’re not a vegetarian.”

  She backhands my shoulder, but my answering giggles are chopped short by my son’s gleeful squeal. “Mama, Mama. Look! Grandpy Todd—and Unca Chase!”

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” I laugh once more as my brother-in-law sweeps me into a full hug. Another affectionate hug for Joany, who’s just finished with presenting Lux a little present. The action figure, complete with light-up wings, becomes his new fascination—the same way he captivates Chase and Joany with his little zooming and zapping sounds. Not that they can be blamed. The sight isn’t instinctual for anyone—an infant mastering a toy meant for a kid three times his age—though everyone on the team has grown so used to the anomaly. It’s just daily life for us.

  “We hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Chase offers. “It was a last-minute decision, and we figured we’d just surprise you guys.”

  I beam a smile at my handsome brother-in-law and his petite and pretty wife. “And what an awesome surprise it is.” I break in on myself with a little laugh. “Though I’m sorry if my enthusiasm got either of you flour-dusted. We’re in the middle of sugar-high barnyard pals for a playgroup field trip to the zoo tomorrow.”

  “Ooooo.” Joany breaks out with goodie-goodie claps. “Sounds like fun! Dibs on the roosters.”

  Open wince. “Uhhhh…we have chickens…” And then a hopeful smile. Roosters are beyond my fondant-molding skills.

  “But no roosters?” Joany pushes her purse and sweater into her husband’s grasp. “Now what’s a barnyard without roosters?”

  As soon as she disappears around the corner into the kitchen, Chase and I trade good-natured chuckles. “Guess you’re getting roosters now,” he remarks.

  “Guess I am.” I grin.

  “But that doesn’t mean they come with houseguests too. If you’ve got a full headcount, Jo and I can head down and find an Airbnb.” As soon as he states it, I peer around and realize all he’s holding are his wife’s things. There’s no luggage behind him in the foyer or out on the front step. I do take note of their shiny rental parked between Sawyer’s Ducati and the Q8, and I take a second to wish that Reece’s new M850i would appear with him behind the wheel, flashing his most roguish smirk as he parks. But that moment is still hours away, and at least I’m not waiting all by myself now.

  “Nonsense,” I chide Chase. “Your mom was only in town last week for the RRO board meeting, but you probably already knew that. Anyway, her room is freshly made up and free.”

  “Awesome.” He lifts a fresh smile, which puts deeper grooves into the crinkles at his temples but doesn’t diminish his boyish good looks. After indulging a chuckle at Lux’s antics with the action figure, he says, “Summer’s already in full swing back in New York, and the heat was a bear to endure. We’re happy to be here, back inside the blissful Bolt bubble.”

  At once, I break out an affirming smile—for myself as well as him. The blissful Bolt bubble. There aren’t many ways to express it better, and I’m aware of my soul’s new plea to the universe that this glass ball stays intact for a little while longer. While Reece and I used the announcement of Lux’s birth to convince the public we’d merely been “busy” and “preoccupied” instead of hiding from the harpy who’s hell-bent on drafting all of humanity into her crazy cult, it was also our way of withdrawing from the limelight for a while. I have to admit, it was an excuse I welcomed—along with the epiphany it brought.

  That “more” doesn’t always have to be a grand adventure with my hair on fire.

  It can exist right here, under my own roof.

  Or in the breathtaking dawns just beyond that roof. And in the dazzling sunsets too.

  But most especially, in the best light of every day: the carefree glitter that greets me from my son’s magnificent gaze.

  That same light that takes my breath away now, as Lux clears the corner between the foyer and the den. He’s still got “Grandpy Todd” in tow, who’s indulging Lux’s enthusiasm with a proud, full smile.

  “Hey, little light of mine.” I lean down, interpreting his sprinting approach as an early request to be picked up, but Lux stops short and shoves me away. Since that’s not a surprise, given my kid’s fiercely independent spirit, I straighten and then ask, “What’s up, bud? You and Grandpy Todd settling in for a movie? You want some snacks?”

  Lux shakes his head with more vigor than a dog climbing out of a pond. “Come, Mama,” he insists, yanking on my wrist. “Dada’s already in the movie! Dada!”

  “Huh? Ow.” I emphasize the
latter with a frown, stopping in my tracks and making my son do the same. “Lux Mitchell Tycin Richards. What are the rules about your special pow-pow? I’m waiting.” I refrain from going full-on nag mom on him, keeping my stance neutral and my hands at my sides. Granted, I’m probably not that easy to take seriously in my Hello Kitty sweatshirt and pink polka-dot leggings, but even if he’s on track to get his first PhD before he hits double-digit birthdays, I still make the rules around here.

  “No pow-pow inside.” He mumbles it while kicking the floor, clearly knowing what I’ll do next. I don’t disappoint him, turning my wrist over and thrusting it in front of his face.

  “And what else?”

  A harder kick to the carpet. “Only pow-pow with Dada, Unca Wade, or Unca Saw Saw.”

  Though Lydia visibly melts at his use of the special nickname for Sawyer, I stay the course with my discipline. “And what else?”

  This time, hot color rushes up his face. He blinks back tears that turn his eyes into miniature storms—which makes this shit harder to maintain. When he starts looking this much like Reece, it’s rough for me to do anything other than drop to my knees and hug the crap out of his sweet little form. “No hurt any human or animal.”

  Somehow, I find the fortitude to extend my arm out, wrist turned up. “So what’s this red mark on my arm?”

  The tears thicken. I’m seriously about to turn the texture of his crumbling little whisper. “Mama…hurt.”

  I can’t resist any longer. I drop to my knees, bringing my face level with his sweet, serious one. Like his father, thick tendrils of his hair tumble against his temples. Also like his father, he makes my heart wrench and ache with the self-castigation in his eyes.

  “Sorry, Mama,” he husks out. “I love you!”

  “And I love you too,” I reply as he plops a penitent kiss to my “boo-boo.” It’s not easy to stay serious as he follows with a swipe of his thumb, which instantly flows healing heat across the area, but I tell myself to stand firm on the conviction. “And thank you for fixing it, honey—but one day, you won’t be able to just walk over to someone and do this. You want to know why? Because people aren’t used to people like you, Lux—and they’ll run if you do something like this to them, even if you’re just excited and trying to be friendly.” I cup my hands around his shoulders, admitting the combination of his ten-month-old frame and his older, wiser gaze are sometimes jarring, even for me. “That’s why we have the rules, okay?” I smile and give another reassuring squeeze. “You don’t want to really hurt somebody, right?”