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surrogate-fawn · 8 months ago

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The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it.

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did.

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me.

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either.

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go.

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day.

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out.

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door.

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway.

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do."

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it.

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair.

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break."

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually."

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er."

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay."

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?"

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!"

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright.

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!"

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-."

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back.

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all.

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?"

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up."

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying."

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?"

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time.

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was.

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either.

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there."

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

"They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face.

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food.

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!”

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina.

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry.

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting.

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me.

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life.

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch.

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened.

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all.

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam.

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward.

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset.

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand.

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet.

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!”

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest.

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone.

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum. The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . .

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly.

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own.

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

#Fawn Drabbles #birth kink #labor kink #mittysins #RP Drabble

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chickensarentcheap · 5 months ago

Text

Lost and Found- Chapter 32

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Esme Drummond (previously established OFC. You do not need to read the other fics in the series to understand this one)

Warnings: profanity, VERY brief mentions of childhood cancer, child death, spousal abuse

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @watermeezer @alisbackalleybbq

@ninjasawakenedmystar @kmc1989 @asirensrage @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon

@ocappreciationtag @occommunity @munstysmind @themaradwrites

@karimac @fanficanatic-tw

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d like to be added :D

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/143167123

This is messy. I'm messy. My life is messy. But, yeah...anyway...

****

After nearly an hour of being submersed in a bubble bath while enjoying half a bottle of white wine, she checks on Millie. The exhausted four-year-old long ago tucked in by her dad; barely making it through two bedtime stories before drifting off in the secure and comfortable confines of her new bed. One arm curled around her stuffed koala, the other around her doll Posie; her chest rising and falling with each soft, rhythmic breath, her sun-kissed skin a stark contrast against her crisp sheets. Lucy and Bea keeping their eyes on their young charge; curled up together at the end of the bed, the cat’s body completely covering Millie’s feet.

Gingerly tiptoeing around the room, she tidies up the remaining toys and books that hadn’t been put away; gathering errant laundry and tossing it in the hamper before moving to the bed. Carefully and tenderly smoothing down Millie’s blankets and tucking them around her body, before running a palm over the top of her head; lips lingering on her daughter’s brow as she kisses her goodnight. Giving Lucy and Bea scratches and pets and showering them with praise for being such good ‘siblings’; instructing them to ‘keep an eye on your little girlie’ before slipping from the room.

Briefly returning to the guest room, she tosses her damp hair up into a messy bun and snags a plaid shirt of Tyler’s off the back of the door; slipping it over her simple white cami and baggy satin pants as she heads downstairs. The screen door audibly squeaks as she steps onto the front porch; the wood planks smooth and cool under her bare feet as she pads towards the end of the deck. As she approaches, he glances up from his cell phone; lounging lengthways across the patio swing with one leg dangling over the edge and the other stretched out across the cushion.

He greets her with a smile. Quickly switching off his phone and setting it on the deck. “You check on her?”

“Of course. She’s down for the count. When she does finally crash, she crashes hard.”

He reaches for her. A hand on her hip as she lowers herself down onto the swing; settling herself between his legs, her own stretched out as she leans back against him. Resting a forearm across her collarbone, his hand sneaks its way through the opening of the plaid shirt; palm flat against her skin, fingers splayed, the tips of three meeting the neckline of her cami. His free hand moves from hip to stomach; lips pressing a series of kisses on her cheek, ear, temple, and side of her head.

His eyes briefly close as he inhales deeply. “You smell good. I’m surprised you still use that stuff.”

“Why would I stop? It’s always been your favourite.”

“How many other guys got to smell it over the last five years? They all tell you it was their favourite, too?”

She scowls over her shoulder.

“I’m kidding.” Placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, they lapse into a comfortable silence. Enjoying the cool, crisp breeze, rustling of the treetops, and the chirping of the crickets in the nearby bushes. And he plants a foot on the deck, easily moving the swing back and forth as his calloused fingertips continuously swirl across the swells of both breasts and her collarbone.

Her fingers push through his as his palm rests on her stomach. “I remember when we first bought this place and we would talk about this; getting a swing and hanging out on it every night. Talking and relaxing and just enjoying one another. I’m kind of surprised; that you went through with getting one.”

“Why would that surprise you?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly your thing . You just went along with it because I wanted one.”

“I knew it would make you happy. I remember you talked about the swing at your grandparents' place; you and your grandma sitting out on it, knitting and crocheting and even bird watching. It was something you wanted. So why wouldn’t I give it to you?”

“You always have spoiled me.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“I guess I didn’t think you’d get one if I wasn’t around. That you’d want to avoid something like that; being surrounded by things that would remind you of me.”

“That’s exactly what I did get them. So they would remind me of you.”

Smiling, she tilts her face up towards him; his lips covering hers in a long, soft kiss. And she gives a long, content sigh when she pulls away, tucking her head under his chin.

“Things went pretty good, yeah?” A fingertip draws a slow circle around her navel. With Alcott and Mia here. Wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”

“Your feathers didn’t seem too ruffled. Being around her.”

“Why would they be?”

“It’s not always easy being around an ex. Even under the best of circumstances. But when it’s someone you’ve been through some really difficult shit with…”

“That was years ago. And the marriage was practically over before the bad shit even happened, so…”

“It still happened. You still went through it. With her. There’s kind of a bond, don’t you think? Left behind? How can there not be?”

“Do you have a bond with your ex?”

“It’s two totally different situations. My ex nearly killed me. He put me in the ICU. You can’t compare Mia to him. I know things were rough between the two of you and things were over before your son even got sick, but…”

“I don’t think I like where you’re going with this.”

“...but they weren’t completely horrible, either. You didn’t hate each other. There was no abuse…of any kind…going on. You just weren’t as compatible as you thought you were.”

“It was a little more than that. What does it matter, anyway? That was years ago. Before I even knew you existed. My son had already been dead for a few years. When we met.”

“But you didn’t get closure… real closure…until after me. I’d already been gone two years; when you took the job in Georgia and Mia showed up at the prison to see you.”

“Esme, I don’t want to fight.”

“I’m not fighting.”

“Not yet. But it sounds like you want to.”

“I’m merely pointing out why it would be understandable if things were a little tense. Or why there might be some lingering bond between the two of you.”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw or heard while she was here, but nothing is lingering between us. Never mind some kind of imaginary bond.”

“You were married to her. She was your wife.”

“You’re right, she was . Past tense. She’s now my EX-wife. And she was going to be my ex-wife whether my son got sick or not. There’s no bond. Nothing that ties us together. We’re only in each other’s lives because she’s banging someone I know. That’s it.”

“So you felt nothing? When you saw her?”

“I mean, I guess it was good to see her again; know that she’s happy and doing well and her life seems to be going how she wants it to.”

“But you felt nothing? No stirring of anything? No fond memories? Nothing warm and fuzzy?”

“Why are you even asking me this? If you saw Mark, would you feel anything towards him?”

“You mean other than the fact he’d send me into a homicidal rage? No.”

“Did you expect to feel something? Want me to? So we could fight about it after?”

“Of course I didn’t want you to. And I don’t want to fight. I just…”

“Mia hasn’t been a part of my life in a long time. Doesn’t matter if we were married or not. I don’t feel anything for her. In the slightest. I love you . Only you. It’s been only you for years. And it’ll be only you until the day I die. Or you kill me. Whichever comes first.”

“If you don’t learn to put your dirty underwear and socks in the laundry hamper, trust me, I will end up killing you.”

“Don’t ever ask me something like that again, okay? Because you should know better. Do you really think I would have been okay with her coming here if I felt anything for her? I would’ve kept the two of you apart.”

“I’ll admit…” Lifting the heavy forearm from her chest, she rolls onto her stomach, pressing herself against him. “.. I didn’t stop to think about that .”

“I’d never disrespect you like that. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a total prick.”

“Just a bit of one,” she teases.

“Mia is nothing to me. But you’re everything. You and Millie.”

“It was harder than I thought it would be; being around her. And that’s not because of any personality flaw on her part; she was more than friendly, and we got along well. Not to mention she was amazing with Millie. It’s all on me. Feeling awkward, inferior…”

“Why would you feel any of those things? Mia isn’t in my life. You are. I love you . And if I have to tell you that a million times a day for the rest of my life…”

“I’m jealous, I guess. That she got to be with you. That…”

“That makes no sense. Aren’t you with me? Right now?”

“It’s just a little unsettling; coming face to face with your past. I knew you were married; that you had a wife and son. I knew all about things falling apart; you wanting a divorce before even finding out your son was sick and then him getting cancer and you leaving and him dying while you were away. You never held anything back when we were in Dhaka. But hearing things and actually seeing them? I wasn’t prepared for how that would make me feel.”

“I told you when Alcott called that I didn’t think it was a good idea if he brought her. I was okay with it; I’d closed that chapter years ago. But I knew it wasn’t going to end well. For you . That you’d seem alright with at first, and then all hell would break loose later. But you said you were fine with it and it wouldn’t let it bother you…”

“And it didn’t. Not at first anyway. But now they’re gone and I’ve had time to think about it…”

Sighing, Tyler brushes loose strands of hair off her brow. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“You get yourself all worked up and backed into a corner and it’s like you don’t hear a damn word I say. I could tell you a million times; how much I love you and only you and how you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and no one else might as well exist. But it doesn’t seem to matter. It doesn’t seem to register with you.”

“It’s not that I don’t hear you. Or that I don’t believe what you say. It’s just…I don’t know…I guess I’m just a little insecure.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“I’ve always been like this. You know that. I’ve got tons of confidence in other things; how well I do my job, how ‘book smart’ I am. Sometimes even my parenting skills. But when it comes to me ? How I look and what I offer someone else? Not so much.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve got a lot to offer. You’ve just never been around anyone that appreciated any of it.”

“You know, sometimes you say some profound shit. Have you been on my phone? Listening to my podcasts? I’m pretty sure I heard something just like that on one of them.”

“I only did that once. And it was some kind of sex podcast. Why do you even need to listen to that one? It’s not like you’re not getting taken care of. Properly.”

“Hey, you never know. One day I might hear something even we haven’t tried.” Laying her cheek on his shoulder, she reaches up to continuously run a finger along the curve of his chin. Several minutes passing before she raises her head to look at him. “You know it’s not you, right?”

“What’s not me?”

“The way I can be sometimes. All insecure and neurotic. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know. I lived with you for a year, remember? I’m not a rookie.”

“I just hate feeling inferior. Like I’m in competition with someone.”

“Who the hell would you have to compete with? There’s no one else, Esme. There’s just you. Which is exactly the way I want things. And inferior? To who? Mia? What the fuck are you…”

“She’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Not… that. I totally painted a picture in my mind of what she’d look like. And the only thing I got right is her being tall. I thought she’d be some kind of beach babe; all long and toned and lanky, blond hair, green or blue eyes.”

“Yeah, you were way off.”

“I didn’t think she’d be so beautiful. Or so intelligent and sophisticated. So…I don’t know…put together. And it… she made me feel like I’d never measure up. No matter how hard I tried.”

“You don’t need to try and do anything. I don’t expect you to be like her. I don’t want you to be. You’re inferior to no one, Esme. There’s not one person in this world that can even come close to you. And I know sometimes…maybe even all the time…it’s hard for you to believe that, but it’s true. Would I ever lie to you? About anything?”

“No.”

“What is it you say sometimes? About how I’m ‘nothing if not brutally honest’? I would never bullshit you. Especially about something like this. I don’t love Mia. I don’t think I ever did. But I never question how I feel about you. I never have. Not even when you weren’t around.”

“I just…” She chews pensively on her bottom lip. “...I was a little weirded out, okay? About how much we look alike.”

“Who looks alike?”

“Mia and I.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “What? What are you talking about? You two look nothing alike.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it. The resemblance.”

“Esme, I am telling you, I do not see it. You don’t look like her at all.”

“We could be sisters.”

“The hell you could.”

“Dark hair, dark eyes…”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like brunettes?”

“You honestly don’t see it? It wasn’t intentional? Picking me? You didn’t do it because I reminded you of her?”

“That never even crossed my mind when we met. I have never put the two of you in the same category. Ever. You look like nothing and you are nothing like her. You are a completely different person; inside and out. And that’s why I ‘picked’ you. Why I was attracted to you.”

“I don’t know…” She fidgets with the ‘chain’ around his neck. A thin strip of braided paracord with a custom-made dog tag; engraved with birth date, emergency contact name and number, blood type, and various allergies. A must-have in the mercenary world; a way of communicating your needs if you’re injured and unable to do so yourself. And in the worst-case scenario, identifying your body. “...I see it.”

“You’re probably going to get really pissed at what I’m about to say and I know I’m risking being banished to the couch for it, but what you’re seeing? What you’re thinking? That’s all up in here.” He gently taps a fingertip against her brow. “It’s all in your head, Me. You are nothing like her. And I mean that in the best possible way.”

“You don’t think I look like her? Not even a little bit?”

“I am telling you the truth. I don’t see it. Not in the slightest. And I know you can’t help it. It’s not your fault that you get like this. I know why you do it, and I know what…and who…caused it. But I’m not him. I’ll never be him.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I wonder. I’m sorry that he treated you the way he did. You didn’t deserve any of that. But I can’t keep paying for his mistakes. I spent a year doing it. When we first met. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life… our life…doing it. I’m not the enemy, Esme. Regardless of what your brain tells you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. I don’t mean to treat you like that. I know you’re not him. I know that you never will be. But it’s so hard sometimes. Even now. Getting past all of that. And I hate that I get this way. Because I love you and I don’t want to hurt you and…”

“You’re not hurting me. You’re hurting us . You get that, yeah?”

She nods

“There’s only you.” Cradling her face in his palms, he kisses her. Long and soft and sweet. “There will always be only you.”

****

His foot continues the rocking of the swing. Her body now resting on its side on top of his; her head on his chest and both of his arms around her. One hand on her hip, and the other on the small of her back. Both of her arms wrapped around his one bicep.

She presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. And for loving me like you do. I know I’m hard to put up with sometimes. I’m not an easy person to live with.”

“And I am?”

“You’re no picnic. But I think sometimes I’m the bigger nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance at all.”

She glances up at him.

“Okay, maybe just a little bit of one.” Shooting her a playful wink, he drops a kiss on her brow. One hand moves to the back of her head, drawing it back down into his chest; fingers pushing through her hair and continuously and softly kneading at her scalp.

“When do you go back to work?”

“By ‘work’ I’m assuming you mean the normal, everyday shit. Not the mercenary stuff.”

She nods.

“There’s nothing etched in stone. Before I left for New York I told my boss I didn’t know when I’d be back; I had personal shit to tend to and I wasn’t sure how long it would take.”

“He was okay with that?”

“I have a lot of vacation days stored up. Besides, we’re not the busiest station. They won’t miss me.”

“What about the business?”

“Koen has things under control. If he needs me, he can just call or text.”

“Does he know? About me? And Millie?”

“I told him you’d gotten into some trouble and hired me to get you out of it. And yeah, he knows. About Millie.”

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t give him a chance to say much. There was too much going and I didn’t need to add any of his bullshit to my plate. I told him we’d talked about; when I got back into town and had more time on my hands.”

“Is he the one that did Millie’s room?”

“I gave him a list. Stuff that would get things started. So she’d have something to work with when she got here.”

“Speaking of lists…”

“I’ve seen her list. The kid knows what she likes and what she wants, I’ll give her that.”

“You know, you don’t have to cross off every item on it.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“She doesn’t expect the world, Tyler. I haven’t been raising her like that. She’s not the kind of kid that throws a fit because she doesn’t get everything she wants.”

“She may not expect the world, but I’d do anything to give it to her. Her and her mum.”

“This is a battle I’m not going to win, isn’t it. You’re going to spoil her senseless, aren’t you.”

“Every chance I get.”

“So no work for a bit?”

“Are you hoping I go back? Trying to get rid of me? Out of your hair?”

“I just want to know how long we’ll have you all to ourselves.”

“I’ll hang around for as long as you want me to. There’s no rush. It’s not like we need the money. There’s no chance of running out in our lifetimes. Or even Millie’s, for that matter. So if you want me to stay home even longer than planned....”

“Well, we do have five years to make up for. I don’t think your boss will like it though. You staying off for too long.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he likes or dislikes. I’ve got you and Millie now. A family. The two of you are my priority. If he has a problem with that, he can fire my ass. Then I’ll go and get a job at another station. His isn’t the only one that exists.”

“I’m just not ready to share you. With anyone.”

“Millie might have something to say about that.”

“Obviously she’s an exception. It’s been a long five years. I need to have you around for a bit. But can you do me a small favour?”

“Anything.”

“Can you not get fired until I get a chance to see you in your uniform? And your turn-out gear?”

“Baby, I will wear those out of work. Just for you.”

“Oooo…” Pressing a kiss to his ear, she gently bites down on the lobe. “...kinky.”

With a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into a kiss; both her arms circling his neck as she eagerly responds. And she gives a small yelp when he slaps a palm against an ass cheek and then pinches the supple flesh through the fabric of her pyjamas. Rolling onto his side, he brings her with him; his back against the rear cushion, her head tucking into the crook of his elbow as one leg slips between both of his.

She pulls back to look at him, two fingers sweeping hair off his forehead. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean? What…?”

“You’ve been a little… off …since Mia and Alcott left.”

“Jesus fuck, let’s not get into that again.”

“I’m not insinuating they had anything to do with it. I’m just saying you’ve been a little disconnected. Closed off.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Your shoulders are tight and you’ve got the line that pops up in the middle of your forehead. Not to mention your eyes are darker.”

“You really do know me better than I know myself.”

“You’ve never been good at hiding it. When something’s bothering you. So what is it? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Tyler frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Regardless of what you think…” She runs a fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose. “...you can be both badass and beautiful at the same time. “

“You’re full of shit.”

“Look how beautiful Millie is. She looks just like you. So you’re not going to win this argument.”

“I rarely win an argument with you. Even when I know I’m right about something.”

“You know how to pick your battles. Sometimes, it’s just better to surrender. If you know what’s good for you. But seriously…” She trails a fingertip along his jaw. “...what’s up? And don’t say nothing. I always know when you’re lying.”

“You know how you talked about there being a ‘let down’? After everything that’s happened in the last two weeks? Hell, even in the last five years? How it's been a lot for you to deal with? How suffocating and overwhelming it is?”

Esme nods.

“I think I’m starting to feel it.”

“Well, I think that’s pretty normal. You are human. And it’s not like it was a regular job. It was extremely personal.”

“It’s all catching up to me. What we’ve been through. And not just in New York City.”

“Do you regret it? Showing up there? Do you…?”

“Why the hell would you even ask me that? You and Millie are the only good things I have in my life. The best thing I ever did was take that job. Other than six years. When I went along with Nik’s dumb ass ‘fake marriage plan’.”

“It may have been a dumbass idea, but it worked, didn’t it? In more ways than one.”

“I’ve never regretted anything when it comes to you. Not even after you left. I never once wished I’d never met you. Even if you did rip my heart out of my fucking chest. Nothing could ever make me regret you.”

“ I don’t deserve that. Someone loving me like I don’t…”

“I’m not trying to sound like a prick when I say this, but you’re not exactly the best judge of character when it comes to things you deserve.”

Grinning, she presses a chaste kiss to his lips and tousles his hair. “ Touché . So…” She pushes her hand through his dirty blond tresses, allowing the longer strands to slip through her fingers. “...is there we talk about? What’s going on with you?”

“It’s like you; we’re at the end of things, and it’s all starting to catch up to me. You’re right; it is overwhelming.”

She lays her forearm across his collarbone, chin on top, waiting.

“I don’t even know what to say. Or how to describe it.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time. I’ve got all night.”

Sighing, he briefly closes his eyes; stringing thoughts and words together inside his head; hands repeatedly travelling up and down her back before settling on her hips.

“I’m tired, Me. I am so fucking tired. I’ve spent three-quarters of my life fighting; either someone or something. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m forty years old and most days I feel eighty.”

“Life hasn’t been kind to you. And you haven’t been kind to yourself . You’ve shouldered so much; since you were just a little boy. You didn’t deserve the cards you were dealt.”

“Some of it was my fault. I can admit that. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’ve never done anything wrong. I made some shitty fucking choices. And I didn’t exactly cope with things properly; I got into the drinking and the meds and fucked myself up even more. Let’s not pretend I’m innocent. I did bring some of this… a lot of this…on myself.”

“I’m the first one to tell you when you’ve fucked up. I’ve never held back on that.”

“You’re the only one that’s ever had the balls to do it. Which is kinda funny considering you never grew past the age of twelve and I can pick you up and put you in my pocket.”

“I don’t know if it’s so much that I have ‘balls’. I think it comes down to how much I love you. How much I hate seeing you beat yourself up all the time. And you know what I learned? Pretty much right after we met? You’re the type of person who needs to take accountability. For your own peace of mind.”

“I treated people horribly. People who deserved a hell of a lot better. Who actually gave a fuck about me.”

“Mia.”

“And my son. Things weren’t great. Long before he got sick. Our marriage was a mess; I wasn’t capable of putting them first and she wasn’t capable of being with someone like me. She didn’t want that kind of life; a husband and kids. Not really. She thought she did. That she’d be okay with travelling from base to base, country to country. But she wasn’t happy. Not with me, anyway.”

“I think it was less about you as a person and more about you as a soldier. I don’t think she was prepared for that; the life that came with being with someone like you. Even I didn’t like it after a while and I’d been in that life myself. I was in the corps before I married a Marine. Became a military wife. And even I struggled.”

“She wasn’t perfect. Not by a long shot. Neither of us were. But she didn’t deserve what I did to her. I couldn’t give her what she wanted; someone devoted entirely to her. She needed her career. She needed to be close to her family. And being with me didn’t give her either of those things.”

“Did you want to be with her? In your heart of hearts? Can you look back at things now and say you were in love with her? That you got involved for the right reasons? That you truly wanted to be married and have kids and…”

“I did want those things. I wanted to be a husband. A dad. But I don’t think I wanted those things with her . I just convinced myself I did.”

“Did you love her?”

“I don’t know. I think I did. I think I loved her based on what I thought love was. Now I realize I may have loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her.”

She nods slowly as she considers his words.

“Makes me sound like a real fucking prick, doesn’t it.”

“No. It makes you sound honest.”

“Did you love Mark? Before he became a complete fucking asshole?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I was so young. Naive. And he made so many promises; he wanted to take me away, give me an amazing life, and love me forever. Or so he said. I realize now he was always full of shit; he’d jumped right into the love bombing and I was too dumb and inexperienced to recognize it. I was so desperate for an escape and he knew that. And he used it against me; said everything he knew I wanted to hear. He got me exactly where he wanted me and then showed his true colours. In the worst possible ways.”

“He really does bring out the homicidal tendencies in me.”

“He wouldn’t be worth your time. Or your energy. Not to mention I think he’d be terrified of you.”

“Good.”

“Sometimes I do think about it. The two of you coming face to face. You just going absolutely fucking feral on him. I won’t lie; it would give me an immense amount of satisfaction. Seeing him suffer.”

“Then let’s make it happen. Just give me his address and we’ll catch the first flight out of here and you’ll get yourself some quality entertainment.”

“As much as I would enjoy seeing him get demolished and I love you for wanting to defend my honour, I’d rather you stay out of jail. Wasn’t once enough?”

“You could get me out there. You managed the first time.”

“I think I’ve called in every possible favour I’ve ever had coming to me. So let’s not take the chance, okay? Let’s just keep you right where you are. Here with me and Millie.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She smiles as she receives a kiss on her forehead, then she settles her cheek on his chest. They lounge in silence, listening to the creak of the swing, the crickets, and the rustle of the leaves; his hand slipping up the back of her cami and moving in slow, repetitive circles in the middle of her spine. And when he feels her move against him, he opens his eyes and finds her staring up at him. “What?”

“I know there’s more. And don’t even try to deny it.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“The best. In many ways.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

She places her chin on his chest, a fingernail continuously scratching across his beard.

“I keep thinking about something that happened in Dhaka, with Ovi. When we were at Gaspar’s place. He talked about his dad; sitting across the table from him and knowing that he’d killed someone that day. And how it made him feel sick.”

“His father was a horrible person. Drug dealing, gun running, racketeering. Look at the mess he got his son into. Never mind that he threatened to kill Saju’s wife and son if he didn’t get Ovi back from Asif. He was a monster, Tyler. Don’t…”

“Right now, Millie looks at me like I’m some kind of hero. I protect good people and save them from bad people. To her it’s cool; I’m big and I’m strong and I kick all kinds of ass.”

“She’s four years old, babe. She’s just a little girl.”

“That’s exactly my point. Right now, all that matters to her is that I stick up for people who can’t stick up for themselves. Her mother needed help and I showed up. I kept her mum and her safe; I got you away from all the bad stuff and New York City and to somewhere safe.”

“You’re her dad . That’s how she sees you. You’re her daddy and her daddy just so happens to help people. She doesn’t need to know the details; the kinds of skills you have and the things you’ve had to do to survive. She doesn’t…”

“But she’s going to grow up, Me. And she’s going to start asking questions. About what I used to do. She’ll remember everything that went down in New York; Alessio’s people coming after you and her, the sniper at the Continental, having to sneak her out of there and take her somewhere safe. She already talks about the bad guys all the time; about how she’s not scared of them anymore because I’m around to keep her and her mum safe. If she’s only four and she’s already talking like that…”

“There’s years before anything like that happens. Before she starts to question what you really did for a living. Right now she’s tiny and innocent. She feels safe and secure. And we need to keep it that way. For as long as we can.”

“But what about when she does ask? Because it will happen. Have you thought about what you’re going to tell her? When she asks why the bad guys came after the two of you?”

“I haven’t,” Esme admits. “I figured I had more time; to think about what I’d say when I needed to say it.”

“I’ve done some horrible fucking things. And not everyone I’ve done them to have deserved it.”

“But more have .”

“I have so much blood on my hands. That I’ll never be able to wash off. What do I tell Millie? When she finds out what I really did for a living. The extent of it. When she finds out I killed people? For money.”

“You tell her that the things you did? You did them to help people. And to survive. She doesn’t need to know anything else.”

His voice is gravelly as he speaks around a lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. This life. Not the one with you and Millie. The…”

“The mercenary one.”

“I don’t have much left in me. I know I can protect you; if someone were to show up and cause problems and try to get to you and Millie. There’s no way they’d even get close to either of you. But beyond that…”

“It’s almost over; that part of your life. Once Nik takes care of things in New York City, and ties up all the loose ends, you can walk away. For good . We can have a normal existence. Whatever normal is. You can go back to firefighting and running your business and Millie can go to school and we can sign her up for all those things she wants to try.”

“And you? What are you going to do? Go back to school? If you got accepted for the nursing program the first time, I’m sure you won’t have trouble with a second.”

“I think that ship has sailed. Honestly, I think I’m perfectly content being a homemaker; focusing on being a wife and a mother.”

“If that’s what you want, I have your back. It’s not like it isn’t doable; the well isn’t going to run dry. Not in our lifetime. Probably not even in Millie’s.”

“I’ll have a lot of things to keep me busy. Decorating, gardening, baking. Growing babies.”

“I love how you just casually threw that last one in. Where’d that come from?”

“I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot , actually.”

“I thought you wanted to wait. Six months to a year. Isn’t that what you said?”

“It is. But like I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I don’t see why we can’t do things sooner. Millie will be five; I don’t want there to be too much of a gap between her and a sibling. And we lost five whole years; we can’t get any of that time back. So is it really so bad to rush into things? To get married and start adding to our family? It won’t stop us from doing what we planned; finding a therapist and working through things and making them… us …better.”

“I just want you to be sure. That it’s what you really want.”

“You have to want it, too. I can’t exactly make babies on my own.”

Cupping her face in his palms, he presses a long, soft kiss to her lips. “I want it too.”

“So does that mean we can start ASAP? No more playing it safe? We can just let nature take its course?”

“If it happens, it happens.”

“Kinda scary, huh? The thought of more than one Millie running around the place?”

“You kidding? She’s an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.” She squeals when he aggressively pinches her ass, then giggles when he shoves a hand through her hair and yanks her into a kiss; much longer and hungrier, her body pressed tightly against his, hands slipping up the back of his shirt, nails lightly and repeatedly travelling up and down his back. And she sighs when he finally breaks away, both breathless as he wraps both arms around her.

Rolling onto his side, he keeps a protective hand on the small of her back and the nape of her neck to prevent her from falling off the swing. His calloused fingertips gently scraping against soft, warm skin. “I just want to be someone you can be proud of.”

Esme pulls back to look at him. “Where’d that come from?”

“I just want to be the kind of husband and father you can brag about. When you’re out with your friends.”

“What friends?”

Tyler frowns.

“Even if I did have friends, when did you start caring what other people think about you? You’ve never given a shit before.”

“I don’t care what other people think about me. I care what you think about me. And if you ever do get a chance to brag. I’d like to be someone you can actually brag about.”

“You already are.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I’ve always been proud of you. There’s never been a reason not to be.”

“I’m a mercenary. I kill people. For money. That doesn’t exactly come with bragging rights.”

“It’s what you did, not who you are. And I’d never tell anyone something like that anyway. First of all, it’s none of their goddamn business. Second, we both know it’s a security risk; telling people what we actually do. All the bridges we’ve burned and the toes we’ve stepped on? No one can be trusted with that kind of information.”

“And you call me paranoid?”

“I’ve always been proud of you, Tyler. I know how far you’ve come. I know how big of a mess you were when we met; how close you were to drinking yourself to death. or ODing on pain meds, or putting a gun in your mouth. And I was there; in Dhaka and on that bridge. I saw what happened to you. And how hard you fought to make your way back. I know I like to joke about how I'm the main reason you stuck around in the first place…”

“You were the main reason. Hell, you were the only reason.”

“But you did all the hard work. I know how difficult it was; how painful and tiring all those therapies were. It was a long process; getting back on your feet. No one would have blamed you for throwing in the towel. But you never did.”

“I had a reason not to. Do you really think I would have given a fuck if you hadn’t been around?”

“I think eventually you would have. Nik or Keon would have smacked some sense into you, for sure. And I know I complain sometimes about how stubborn you are…”

“Sometimes?”

“…but it’s not always a bad thing. You’ve shown more than once that you don’t give up easily.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. When it comes to why I’m even still here.”

“I’ve always been proud of you. For a lot of different reasons. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t.”

“You’re the only person who’s never made me feel that way. Like I’m some kind of failure.”

“Believe me, you are anything but.”

“I have an ex-wife and a dead kid that would disagree with you.”

“I knew this would happen. That her being here would bring all this up. No matter how much closure she gave you when she showed up at that prison. Why didn’t you just say ‘no’? When Russell called and asked if he could bring her here?”

“I didn’t want him to think I was a total prick. Or more of a prick than he already knows I am. And the last thing I needed was him thinking I didn’t want her here because I’m jealous or some shit.”

“Are you? Jealous? That he’s with her?”

“I don't give a shit who either of them are fucking. Don’t ask me something like that ever again. I didn’t say no because I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal; if you could deal with her being here, so could I.”

“I’m not the one who has a past with her.”

“That's just it. It’s a past. Which is why I didn’t think it would bother me.”

“You know what I think? I think it’s a mix of a whole bunch of different things. That has you dwelling on stuff and getting overwhelmed by it. You’ve always been like this. I could always tell when things were piling up on you because you’d spend so much time inside your head. I know it’s been a long, really tiring two weeks. But we’re almost there. It’ll be finished soon. And then we can just move on and enjoy our new life.”

“I just want to do things right this time. I want to be the kind of husband and dad you and Millie want and need. Deserve . I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t. And you already are what we need and want. We love you. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. You really need to get out of your head. Stop listening to all that bullshit inside of it.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Trust me, I know. I have my own shit that lives rent-free in my brain.”

“Just a bit.”

“But you’ve always been the one to help me deal with it. You’ve always managed to shut all those mean, ugly voices up. Maybe it’s time for me to be that person for you.”

“You are that person, Esme. You always have been.”

Smiling, she ruffles his hair and tucks her head under his chin.

“The only peace I’ve ever known in my life has been when I’m with you.”

She pulls back to look at him. Taken back to the honesty in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes. “Really?”

Nodding, he presses his lips to her brow, then lays a hand on the back of her head and draws her into his chest. “Thanks for that.”

*****

“Mommy?” Millie’s voice -just above a whisper and trembling with emotion- jars her from a deep, comfortable sleep. And a tiny hand rests upon her shoulder; shaking as insistently and vigorously as possible. “Momma. Wake up. Wake up, momma please.”

Her eyes snap open; blinking against the strands of moonlight that greet them. “Amelia…” She reaches out; brushing wayward pieces of dirty blond hair off her daughter's forehead and out of her eyes. “…what is. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I had a bad dream. A really bad dream. I made a mess in my bed. And all over my jammies. Posie got wet too.”

“Alright…”

Tossing off the layer of blankets, she swings her legs over the side of the bed; wrapping both arms around Millie and lifting her into her lap. Ignoring the urine-soaked pyjamas in favour of cuddling her daughter close; one hand on the back of Millie's head as she holds it against her shoulder, the other rubbing slow, comforting circles on the little one’s stomach. Lips to the four-year-old’s temple as she quietly sings “Here Comes The Sun” and slowly rocks back and forth. And when Millie’s sniffling finally subsides, Esme gives a gentle tug on her braid; encouraging her to look up at her. “You okay now? A little better at least?”

Millie nods.

“Let’s go and get you into the tub. Then we’ll throw the dirty stuff in the wash and get new blankies on your bed.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you? For making a mess?”

“No, baby. I’m not mad. Why would I be? These things happen. It’s nothing that can’t be cleaned.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up. And got your jammies wet.”

“Don’t worry about those things. I’m not. All that matters is that you’re okay. That you’re feeling better. Come on…”. The aches and pains linger in her body as she scoops Millie up and settles her on her hip. “You’re getting big, buttercup. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do this. Carry you.”

“Big like daddy! I’ll be taller than you soon! And I’m not even five yet!”

“Only you can manage to be a little savage at four in the morning,” Esme teases, and playfully tickles Millie’s side.

“I'm going to be super tall, momma!”

“You got your daddy’s genes that’s for sure. Arms and legs for days. Speaking of daddy, let’s just let him sleep, okay? He’s had a really long couple of weeks. And some really tough days. He needs his rest.”

“So he can stay big and strong and protect us from the bad guys!”

“And so he has the energy to keep up with you. You crazy little monkey.”

Gathering up a pair of yoga shorts and a t-shirt for herself, she carries Millie into the master’s ensuite and prepares a bubble bath to share. Afterwards, they retreat downstairs to the kitchen; Esme braiding her daughter’s still damp hair before preparing herself a tea and some cheese toast and Millie’s customary after-nightmare snack: a bowl of apple and cinnamon oatmeal, and a glass of white and chocolate milk mixed together. Then they snuggle on the couch; wrapped in the plaid throw that normally graces the back of the easy chair. Millie enveloped in her mother’s arms as she presses herself tightly into her side; a thumb stuck firmly on her mouth, head resting on Esme’s chest. Across the room, the television is tuned into an Australian children’s channel; playing back-to-back episodes of Bluey. And when a lull in programming comes and Millie tries -in vain- to stifle a yawn, Esme gently plucks the thumb from the four-year-old’s mouth.

“You doing alright? Feeling better?”

“A little. My tummy still feels weird though.”

Laying a palm on her daughter’s stomach, she rubs in slow, comforting circles. “It was a pretty bad dream, huh?”

Millie nods.

“No. Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Well, if you feel like talking about it, just let me know, okay? It’s better to get things out in the open, sometimes. Instead of holding onto them. You’ll tell me about it, right? When you’re ready?”

“I promise, momma.”

“You are such a good girl.” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her little one’s head. “Such a good, sweet girl.”

Silence falls as Bluey returns to the screen, and Millie abandons sucking her thumb in favour of playing with her mother’s hair; repeatedly combing her fingers through it and twirling it around her index digit. “Momma.”

“Yeah?”

“It was really scary. When you got hurt. I was worried; that you weren’t going to get better and you were gonna die.”

“I know things didn’t look good, but I wasn’t even close to not being here anymore. I was just really banged up.”

“And bloody. Don’t forget bloody. There was a lot of blood.”

“I know you were scared. And I am so sorry things happened the way they did. But you were so brave, Millie. So brave and so strong. Just like your daddy.”

“He says I get it from you.”

“Of course he does. You were such a big help; when it came to taking care of me. You always cheered me up. I loved hanging out with you; having breakfast and lunch in bed, but getting my hair brushed, giving me manis and pedis. And I’m sure your dad appreciated it; keeping an eye on me and helping him out.”

“He was scared too, you know.”

“I know. He’s a big man with an even bigger heart. You are so much like him, Millie. In so many ways. And that’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

“It’s nice, momma. It’s really nice.”

“What is?”

“Having a mom and a dad. It means I get twice the lovins. And twice the spoiling.”

“I don’t know about that. When it comes to your dad, I think it’s more triple the amount. Quadruple, even.”

“Does it make you sad? That it’s not just us anymore? That you have to share me?”

“It’s a little hard getting used to it; no longer having you to myself and being the only one to make decisions. But no, I’m not sad. Because I get to share you with your daddy. And he is my all-time favourite human. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Soon you guys are going to get married! And I’ll get to wear a pretty dress and brand new Spidey sandals. Maybe we can have a girls' day before that. We can have brunch and get facials and manis and pedis. Do you think we can do that?”

“I am one hundred percent sure we can.”

Millie gives a brilliant smile, then a long, content sigh as she once more rests her head upon her mother’s chest.

“I am so sorry, Amelia.”

“For what?”

“That we didn’t come here sooner. So you could meet your dad. And I know you’re little still and a lot of this probably makes zero sense, but I didn’t keep you away to hurt you. Or him. I really did do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will. When you’re older. For now, just know the things I did. I did because I love you. And your dad. And I thought I was doing what was right.”

“I know you love me, momma. And that you’d never do anything to hurt me. On purpose.”

“I do love you. So very, very, very much. And one day, when you’re bigger and you do understand why things happened the way they did,�� you’ll forgive me.”

“I don’t need to wait that long. I already do forgive you. You’re my mommy. I love you no matter what.”

“I am so lucky.” She squeezes her daughter. “So very, very lucky.”

They once more lapse into comfortable, companionable silence as another episode of Bluey starts. Millie fighting in vain to stay awake for its entirety; excessively yawning and rubbing her blurry eyes with the heels of her palms. And she looks up at her mother with a sleepy grin when the latter eventually flicks off the television. “Momma?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we can go to the beach today?”

“I’ll tell you what; we’ll go and get some more sleep and when everyone in the house is awake, we’ll talk about and make some plans. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good. Can I sleep in the big bed? With you and daddy? I don’t want to go back to my room yet. My big blankie is still in the dryer. And so is Posie.”

“I’m sure daddy won’t mind. And he’s a human furnace. He can keep both of us warm.

Come on…” Tossing the throw into the nearby chair, she wraps her arms around Millie and stands, letting loose a loud, dramatic groan. “You really are going to be bigger than me in a few years, I think. I don’t know how much longer I can manage; carrying you around like this.”

“Daddy will still be able to. ‘Cause he’s big and strong and I’m nowhere close to being as tall as him! Do you think one day I might be? As tall as him?”

“Anything could happen. I don’t know if you’ll get to six foot three, but…”

“He really is a giant!”

“Yeah…” Chuckling, she presses a kiss to Millie’s temple. “...he really is.”

****

He stirs as Millie climbs into bed. Groaning loudly and rolling onto his side; eyes squinting against the first rays of sun that peek through the curtains.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with sleep; rumbling deep within his chest, accent much thicker. “Everything okay?”

“Millie had a bad dream,” Esme explains, as their daughter crawls her way into the middle of the mattress. “I told her she could come and snuggle with us.”

“I made a mess in my bed,” Millie chimes in. “And all over my jammies and blankets and Posie.”

“But it’s all cleaned up,” Esme adds, as she slips under the covers. “Everything is freshly washed and in the dryer. Including Miss Posie.”

“Mommy didn’t even get mad. When I made the mess.”

Tyler leans in to press a kiss to Millie’s brow. “I bet your mom barely ever gets mad at you.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. She has her moments.”

“I’ve been on the receiving end of those moments. I feel your pain.”

“You two are just comedians twenty-four seven,” Esme grumbles, and rolls onto her side to face him.

He uses a fingertip to swipe loose strands of hair off his daughter’s forehead. “Must have been a pretty bad dream, huh?”

Nodding, the four-year-old slips underneath the blankets. Until completely covered from head to toe. “I don’t wanna talk about it though.”

“She wouldn’t tell me either,” Esme laments. “But I said when she’s ready, she knows where to find us. I’m hoping it was just a one-off. That it’s not going to turn into a regular thing. It's been a while since that happened.”

“Still think we should find her a t-h-e-r-a-p-i-s-t?”

“I think we all need one. Correction. I don’t think, I know we do.”

“Let’s give it a few days, yeah? Get somewhat settled first. Maybe we can…” He frowns when Bea hops onto the bed, then stretches out across his feet. “No cats in the bed!”

Esme grins. “Babe, you used to let chickens sleep with us. The cat stays.”

They settle into a comfortable silence. Facing each other, Millie burned under the blankets. And with a smile curving his lips, he lays an arm across his and Esme’s pillows, cupping her head in his palm as he presses a lingering kiss to her brow. “You should have woken me up. I would have given you a hand.”

“I had things under control. She just needed a bath, some snuggles, and her normal after-nightmare snack.”

He arches a quizzical brow.

“White and chocolate milk mixed together, and a bowl of apple and cinnamon oatmeal. It’s become our ‘thing’ when she has a bad dream; she has her snack and we cuddle on the couch and I rub her tummy. She gets a sore belly when she has bad dreams.”

“She has them a lot, or…?”

“Not really. She went through a bit of a stage where they were a little more frequent; typical little kid nightmares about monsters chasing her or hiding under the bed and in the closet.”

“And killer clowns!” Millie pipes up from her ‘hiding spot’. “Don’t forget the killer clowns!”

“How could I forget them? I don’t like clowns, either. You good under there?”

A lone, tiny hand sneaks out from the comforter and flashes a thumbs up. “I’m good!”

“I really did have things under control,” Esme assures him. “And I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. You need your rest.”

“So do you.”

“I’m almost completely back to normal. Things are just starting to hit you. It’s time to rest, Tyler. Or at least try to. I know you can’t totally let your guard down yet, but..”

“I’m never going to be able to let it down. Not when it comes to you and Millie. Not completely, anyway.”

“You always have been protective. Sometimes a little too much.”

“If you think I was bad before, just wait. After spending five years away from you? And everything that happened in New York City…”

Esme lowers her voice to a near whisper. “I think that’s what her dream was about.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t want to talk about it. Which isn’t unusual for her; it usually takes a bit for her to calm down enough to tell me what happened. But she did tell me that it was scary; my accident and seeing me hurt.”

“She’s not the only one it freaked out.”

“She talked about how much blood there was. And that she worried I wasn’t going to get better. That I was going to die. I tried telling her that it never came close to that; things were a bit ugly and I was pretty banged up, but that was never going to happen.”

“I tried to keep her from it. How bad things looked. I didn’t want her to see you like that. Fuck, I didn’t even want to see you that, and I’m a grown-ass adult. So I can’t even imagine what it’s done to her.”

“She’s so strong, Tyler. So brave and so strong. Just like you.”

“I think her mum has me beat. In both those departments.”

“I think once she gets used to living here and having you in her life and gets settled in school and activities, the bad stuff will start to fade. At least I hope it will.”

“She’s her mother’s daughter. She’ll be just fine.”

“And I think it will do her a world of good; to talk to someone about everything that’s gone down. It’ll do us good, too.”

“I gotta admit, I’m not entirely thrilled about spending time with another shrink. I didn’t exactly get along with the last one. That we saw after Dhaka.”

“You’d been through hell. I mean, you were clinically dead just a few months before. You were still healing and busting your ass to get back on your feet. I think it’s understandable that you’d be a bit prickly.”

“That sounds like a nice way of calling me an asshole.”

“I’d never call you that. At least not out loud. And especially not to your face.”

Smirking, he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

She sneaks a hand out from under the mound of blankets, then uses her fingertips to clear strands of hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That it scared you. The accident. And that you had to see me that way. I know you’re used to being on the other side of the fence.”

“All I could think about was how I’d just gotten you back. After five fucking years. I barely survived that . How the hell was I going to survive you being gone permanently? With no chance of ever getting you back.”

“But here I am. Almost back to normal. You protected me. Made sure they couldn’t get close enough to finish the job. If you’d been hurt worse and hadn’t been able to do any of that…”

“Let’s not even think about that. Let alone talk about it. You need sleep.”

“So do you.”

“I’m not the one who got up at the ass crack of dawn with the kiddo.”

“I’m used to it. I’ve got four years of this mommy thing under my belt. You’re not getting up yet, are you? It’s not even six am.”

“Six am is a late wake-up for me. I got some shit I need to do: I normally go for a run and work out a bit. And I need to check up on Koen. Make sure he’s not fucking things up.”

“It won’t kill you to miss one day of working out. And Koen’s a big boy; he can handle things on his own. Just stay here…with us…for a little bit? I’m not asking for much, just a half an hour, an hour at the most.”

“Let me guess. Until you fall asleep.”

“Please?” She slides her head across to his pillow. The tip of her nose pressed against his. “ Stay? Just a while. Millie got her snuggles. Now it’s my turn. And there’s nothing better than a snuggle from my favourite human. My person.”

“Well now that you put it that way…” Tangling her fingers in her hair, he presses a series of kisses to her face. The centre of her forehead, the bridge of her nose, temple, ear and cheek, and finishing at the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes close when he rests his chin on top of her head and her body melts into the hard muscle of his chest. A long, soft sigh escapes her lips as she’s soothed by the familiar scent that clings to his skin and the warmth that radiates off his flesh. The closeness and the contact filling her with a sense of completeness she’s never experienced before; quickly and easily lulling her towards the edge of sleep. Both her heart and soul content; secure in both knowledge and evidence of being loved, adored and protected.

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