Foundations: A Happy Ever After Romance (The Walsh Series Book 9)

by Kate Canterbary

  "Lauren," he started, exasperation thick in his voice, "she's not going to…notice. She doesn't understand object permanence. She won't understand what we're doing and it's not like she's going to remember either."

  "Matthew. Seriously. Assuming she sleeps through it, I don't want her first word to be cocksucker."

  "I guess that's reasonable," he said with a shrug. "Where does that leave us? The shower? The closet?" He rapped his fist against the steering wheel. "Better yet, we'll put the bassinet in the bathroom."

  "This sounds like the beginning of a blog post recounting the awful ways couples made time for each other after the baby arrived."

  "Sweetness, I designed every inch of this house. That bathroom is fully insulated and ventilated. It's as secure as any other room under this roof. There's not a single reason why she'd be anything but safe in there."

  "It just sounds bad," I said. "Locking our kid in the bathroom to have sex is not a precedent I want to set."

  "I never said a word about locking her in there," he muttered. "Just wheel her in and close the door halfway. Not even fully shut. Just enough for—for her to have a normal vocabulary."

  "Sure, sure," I agreed. "But this is the sort of thing one of us will accidentally mention and then we'll be the people who lock the baby in the bathroom. I don't want to be those people."

  "Would you rather be the people who drive out to one of my vacant properties and have sex in the backseat until the local police roll up with sirens and flashlights? Because we don't give Sam enough shit for that."

  "No, thank you." I gazed at his hand on my leg, the tiny circles his thumb drew on my inner thigh. "So, assuming we slide her bassinet into the bathroom and leave the door unlocked, are we prepared for that? Do we have any"—I peeked up at him—"condoms?"

  "I love that you just shy-whispered 'condoms' but ripped my pants off and inhaled my cock, like, a couple of hours ago." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, laughing. "As a matter of fact, we have a fresh supply as of this afternoon," he said. "Even better, Patrick was kind enough to explain the mechanics of pulling out."

  I held up a finger. "That doesn't always work."

  "Go ahead and tell him that," Matthew replied. "I won't be revisiting the conversation."

  "I'll save that action item for tomorrow," I said. "All right. We're going inside, feeding the baby, and then—"

  "We know what we're doing, Lauren." He unlatched my seatbelt. "Come on. Let's go do it."

  6

  Matthew

  New Year's Day

  "You're good at this," Max Murphy grumbled, glaring at the tower of wooden blocks on the long kitchen table between us.

  Around us, the annual New Year's Day party Lauren and I hosted at our home was in full swing. Teachers from her school filled the kitchen and family room along with my siblings and their families, our friends, and a handful of strays we'd collected along the way.

  Like Sebastian Stremmel. That guy was a stray if I'd ever seen one.

  This tradition started years ago, back when Lauren's entire teaching staff could fit in a small booth for a holiday brunch. Then, as her team grew and their needs changed, that brunch shifted from before Christmas to after Christmas. In recent years, it shifted again to accommodate more growth and more change, settling on New Year's Day. Brunch was replaced with a potluck lunch; Secret Santa gifts were replaced with a cookie swap. To keep the brunch spirit alive, they added a wine component to the swap last year.

  Now that our worlds were irreversibly entwined with my sister-in-law Tiel teaching music at Lauren's school and Patrick's assistant Dylan Eaves sharing an apartment with Jaime Rouselle, the first grade teacher, we'd decided to go all the way and make this event a Bayside School-Walsh Associates holiday gathering.

  "That doesn't sound like a compliment," I replied, laughing.

  "I mean," Max started, shaking his head at the tower, "you're a professional engineer. I'm an elementary phys ed teacher. All I'm saying is I'm going to think long and hard the next time you invite me to play any game involving structures and shit."

  "I'll do some laps around the block in track shorts if you want to exact your vengeance. You can time me too," I offered.

  He gave me an impatient frown as he tapped a middle column block out of place. Bad choice, my friend. "There's nine feet of snow out there and it's thirteen degrees. The last thing I need is my boss hollering at me because I was the reason her husband froze his nuts off."

  I glanced across the room to find Lauren standing behind the kitchen island, our daughter Madeleine perched on her hip while the baby gnawed on my wife's necklace. It was some sort of felted wool or some other material safe for teething infants. Madeleine wasn't about to choke on a precious gem.

  "Speaking of your boss," I started, tipping my chin toward the kitchen, "who is she talking to?"

  Max hooked a glance over his shoulder before returning our game. "Clark's girlfriend. I don't know her name. Considering he turns them over more often than he changes his socks, it's not worth keeping up with the particulars."

  "Yeah," I murmured, shooting a glance around the room to find Clark Kerrin, the history teacher. I didn't see him but the party was sprawled out across the entire first floor of our home and into the basement. "He brought someone different to the Halloween party, right?"

  Max went for another block near the base. That wasn't going to work well for anyone. The trick was chipping away at the tower from the top. Any defect to the foundation was a defect to the structure.

  He leaned toward me, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "You didn't hear it from me but he swiped on her yesterday morning. Wouldn't be surprised if he's already forgotten his new friend's name." With a sad shrug, he continued, "I probably should've done the same thing."

  I tipped back my beer because day drinking was perfectly acceptable on New Year's Day. And life with an infant meant we'd both catch a nap before dinner. "How's, uh…how's that going?"

  Max grimaced as he reached for his beer. "About as well as any breakup. I moved out." He shrugged, saying, "My sister's basement sucks and her pull-out couch is giving me sciatica but I couldn't give Teddy any more chances. Couldn't keep looking the other way every time he made of a fool of me, you know?"

  I hummed in agreement but I didn't know. Cheating hadn't figured into my dating history. "New year," I said. "New start."

  "Something like that," he grumbled.

  Silence settled between us as I removed a block from the top corner and Max snagged another middle piece. After several more turns, I asked, "What's his deal? Clark and the single-use straws. Is it about hooking up or…what?"

  Hooking up was so far from my present life, it was strange to speak those words. I couldn't comprehend anything like that, much less remember living that way. One adorable, sexy, amazing, maddening, glorious woman for the rest of my life was everything I needed.

  "Single-use straws," Max repeated with a chuckle. "That's funny. But yeah, I don't know for sure. It's probably about pissing off Noa."

  I peered at him, not sure I understood. From everything I knew about Noa Elbaz, the English teacher, I couldn't imagine anything pissing her off. The woman seemed thoroughly unflappable. She reminded me of my sister-in-law Andy. Neither of them had patience for boys and their games.

  "Okay," I replied, unconvinced.

  "Yeah, I don't know," Max repeated. "But he'll do anything to get a squinty eye out of her."

  I took another swig of my beer while Max kept chipping away at the tower's foundation. So many bad choices. "A squinty eye?"

  "You know," he insisted, screwing up his face as if he'd knocked back a shot of lemon juice. "Squinty eye." He picked up his beer, shrugged. "I don't get it, but I don't get much about that guy to begin with. Everything with him is ancient Rome this, American Revolution that. I never know what he's talking about but I let him think I do. Drop a line from Hamilton just one time and he gets the wrong idea real quick."

  "You're an amusing
guy, Max," I said, watching as my wife made her way across the room with our daughter. Dressed in a turtleneck sweater and Christmas-y plaid skirt with dark green tights, her soft skin was completely hidden—and I couldn't tear my gaze away from her. She was beautiful but that had nothing to do with it. She'd always been more than a pretty face. She was the one who'd held space for me, even when she hadn't wanted to. She was the one who'd allowed me to drop everything I carried at the door and crawl into her comfort. She was the one who'd held me and my siblings together when we hadn't realized we were falling apart. She was the one who'd taught me true lessons about family and love and everything else that mattered in this world.

  She was the one, the only one.

  Lauren dropped down beside me on the bench seat and I pressed a kiss to her temple. "Sweetness," I murmured into her hair.

  "Caveman," she replied softly.

  I let out a low growl. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and squeeze that plaid-covered ass but we kept it chaste in front of her staff. Boundaries and all. "This skirt. And the sweater."

  "Shush," she replied.

  Madeleine interrupted us with a screeching coo and I held out my arms to her. She wiggled toward me, but did it while clutching her mother's necklace. Prying Madeleine's fingers free, Lauren said, "Clark's today-girlfriend might know someone for our science teacher opening next year. It sounds like this guy has been teaching middle grade science in a bunch of different settings and he's super wonky about his content so he'll be perfect for us. Isn't that fantastic?"

  "So fantastic," Max murmured, focused on the shaky tower. "Almost makes up for Clark bringing someone he met last night to an intimate gathering of friends and colleagues."

  I stifled a laugh as I shared a glance with Lauren. "Could be worse. He could've met her this morning."

  "Either way, I really wish Drew was here." She tucked a hank of Madeleine's wild blonde curls over her ear but they didn't stay.

  Drew Larsen was the first person Lauren had hired and one of her most trusted team members. The guy had a lot of strong opinions and temperamental behaviors but he respected the hell out of my wife and that was all that mattered to me.

  "He'd be all about this science person," she continued. "He loves content wonks. They're his people. He'd call the guy up right now and insist we conduct a video interview in the pantry. I mean, he's been worried about finding the right person since Micaela announced her husband was being transferred out-of-state and she'd be leaving at the end of the year. So much more concerned than about the fourth grade vacancy."

  Max glanced around, asking, "What do you mean, Drew isn't here? He hasn't tasked himself with shoveling the snow off your roof or organizing the attic? He hasn't put himself to work somewhere?"

  Lauren shook her head. "He texted me a couple of hours ago saying he couldn't make it."

  Max frowned at the remaining blocks. "There goes his perfect attendance record."

  Shifting Madeleine to my other side, I looped an arm around Lauren's waist and pulled her closer. "This is fun," I said, my lips on the crown of her head.

  "Which part?" she teased, a soft laugh puffing over my cheek. "Having forty people in the house? Better yet, forty empty bottles of wine? Or the cookie crumbs everywhere? My mother muttering to herself because she's annoyed about something I did but won't tell me what it was? Or the assortment of crying babies and snoring men?"

  "All of it," I replied. "It's crazy and I never thought I'd bear witness to such a thing, let alone invite it into my house, but I stand by my original statement. This is fun."

  She nodded. "You're right. It is. I'm happy this is our life."

  "Me too," I said. Madeleine must've agreed because she pressed her face into my chest and laugh-shrieked for a full thirty seconds. "The baby hyena too. She's here for it." I glanced up to see Stella Allesandro approaching and I motioned to the seat beside Max. Stella was engaged to Cal Hartshorn, my brother-in-law Nick's heart surgeon buddy. "Hey, Stella. Happy New Year."

  Lauren stood to hug the other woman, saying, "It's so good to see you! We missed you at Andy and Patrick's Christmas Eve dinner but I know there's a ton going on right now. Is it starting to feel like home yet?"

  Stella sat and introduced herself to Max before replying, "Remind me to never move in December. It sounded great in theory but then Cal was at the hospital for thirty straight hours at the beginning and then again at the end of our moving week. We're just now settling back into some semblance of order. I barely know where I'm going, which is crazy to say since I've lived in Boston my entire life. I just don't know anything north of the city."

  "The good news is, you're around the corner from us and just down the street from Nick and Erin," Lauren added.

  "We are," Stella replied. "They came over and pried me away from the boxes. They've turned us on to a bunch of great little restaurants and markets in the area."

  Lauren continued sharing her local favorites with Stella while I waited on Max to select his next block. The kitchen was packed with people. Andy and my mother-in-law were busy opening and closing crockpots and consolidating cookie trays while my father-in-law stood by, waiting to collect and wash the empty plates.

  Grace Kilmeade and Emme Ahlborg, aptly nicknamed the Dark 'n' Stormy sisters, leaned against the island as they sampled cookies from a shared plate. They were part of Lauren's original teaching staff back when the school opened and I'd known them ever since. Their nickname absolutely matched their vibes but they were also some of the kindest, funniest women I knew.

  And they shared everything—including plates.

  Patrick and Sam were passed out in armchairs near the fireplace, Patrick with his arms folded over his chest and Sam with his head lolling toward his shoulder. Sam's two-year-old son Dave was slowly, slowly, slowly teething and up all hours but I didn't know what Patrick was claiming for an excuse.

  My favorite roof garden designer, Magnolia Santillian and her fiancé were busy studying the wall of hand-crafted built-in bookshelves and cabinets in the family room. She gestured, he shook his head. This went on for several minutes until she pulled her phone from her purse and snapped a few photos. I didn't have to hear their exchange to know all about it. They were in the early stages of remodeling the South End brownstone they'd bought on a whim a few months ago and were deep in the throes of haggling over every little decision.

  If my brother Riley ever showed up, he'd intervene in that madness. Riley was nothing if not perennially late. Then again, since he'd spent Christmas in Nevada with his fiancée Alex and her family, I'd assumed they'd be on time today. Or, nearly on time. Based on the texts he'd sent while in Nevada, it sounded as though they'd had a tough time with her family and all their wedding expectations. At this rate, they'd finalize their nuptial plans in eight or nine years.

  Max tapped another low brick out of place—another bad choice—while Tiel and my sisters Erin and Shannon walked in from the playroom with their husbands following close behind. Dave walked with an arm locked around Tiel's leg and Shannon's oldest daughter Abby clutched her mother's hand while Will held a squirming one-year-old Annabelle. They headed toward the table, Erin with her arms outstretched toward Madeleine.

  "Come to Auntie Erin, you little honey-baked ham," she cooed, scooping my daughter into her arms.

  "Why are we constantly referring to my child as food?" I asked.

  "Because she's a chunky little cupcake," Shannon said. "It's adorable. I want to gobble her up."

  "Yeah, that doesn't sound right," I murmured.

  My brother-in-law Will—Lauren's oldest brother—pulled out a chair and said to Shannon, "Sit down."

  I was the last person to comment on anyone else's marriage because I knew how they could appear one way from the outside and function differently on the inside but it was a good thing those two had found each other. My sister would've castrated anyone else who dared to tell her what to do.

  She rubbed a hand down her round belly. "I've been sitting. W
e are fine."

  "Sit down," he repeated.

  She continued rubbing her belly. "Do not order me around, commando."

  "Shannon, when are you due again?" Stella asked.

  "February and thank you for not asking whether I'm due right now because you wouldn't be the first person to come at me with that noise," she replied. "I have a Thanksgiving baby, a Christmas baby, and now a Valentine's baby."

  "She's going for all the major holidays," Lauren quipped.

  "If you don't sit down right now, I will pick you up and put you in that chair," Will said.

  Before Shannon could counter her husband's ultimatum, Shay Zucconi and Audrey Saunders gathered at the opposite end of the table, Jaime, Emme, and Grace following.

  "Has anyone heard from Tara?" Shay asked. She taught kindergarten and lived with the kind of deep-sprung optimism necessary for that work. "She's not here and she's not returning my texts."

  Audrey gestured toward her phone. "Not returning my texts either. I'm getting really worried."

  "She's all right," Lauren replied. "I heard from her this morning. She said something personal came up and she'd see us all on Monday."

  "I'm still worried," Audrey said, surprising no one. She was always very worried about something. To cope with her anxiety, she baked. I hadn't realized it was stress-baking until I'd asked her about the volume of baked goods she produced at last year's holiday party. She'd confessed—with the help of some of Riley's strong cocktails—she found the precision and order of baking calming. That, and something about her ex-husband hating baked goods and revenge being good for her.

  "Wait a second," Max said, glancing up from another poor structural decision. "You're telling me Tara and Drew both skipped out on us?"

  "Jesus Christ, Shannon," Will muttered. He handed Annabelle to Nick, who was all too happy to collect that little pork chop. "Sit down, would you?"

  "Are we sure they're both alive?" Grace called.