Three Years Later

 

Liam

 

“Alright, guys, when we get back from the break, we’ll be getting ready for our commercial free noon hour, but first, we have an anonymous call. Ooh,” I joke into the microphone. “Gotta love those anonymous ones. See you in three.”

I switch into commercial and drop my headphones to my shoulders. Across the table, still my sidekick, is Johnson.

“You got your secret caller?” I joke, reaching for my other constant sidekick—a 32-ounce double-walled cooler cup with pictures of the kids all around it—and taking a healthy chug from it.

I’m definitely that proud father.

Every year at Christmas, the kids get me a new mug. I like to use the old ones and cycle them out every week, but this week’s was the one I got last Christmas. I love all the pictures on this one—Kensley and our older two pick the best pictures—but my favorites were London with a giant smile, showing four missing teeth—her front four, at that; Sawyer on her first training-wheels-free bike, her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at the sidewalk with concentration; and Ryan wearing diaper cream…on his face, in his hair, and all over his shirt.

Ryan had taken terrible-twos to a whole new level.

And fuck, but I enjoyed every minute.

Well, most of those minutes.

Not all of them.

The screaming for fun. The screaming because he was pissed. The screaming just because he could…

I could have done without those minutes.

Still love the kid to death though.

“Yeah, I got your secret caller.” The man is still dry as hell, but we work well together. Regardless, I’d been surprised when he put in his request for the late morning slot too.

Right before London went into kindergarten, I decided I couldn’t keep doing the early mornings. I wanted more time with my family. So, I put in the request to change to the late morning show and with it, my hours changed to a much nicer ten-to-two. Even on days that I have meetings, I can be home in time for school pick up.

Gotta be honest, it’s nice to not do the Caught segment these days, too. The morning slot is now home to a crew of three, and they put my morning show to shame.

Right before London started kindergarten, we moved into a bigger house—one where we could walk to and from the school. We even lucked out and found one with a finished basement, giving us even more room.

Not only did the kids have their own rooms, but we have two guest rooms and a large enough garage that Kensley can still rock out her chalk-paint business—which she really does rock.

These days, I have a second grader and a kindergartener; time goes by so damn fast. It won’t be long before even Ryan’s in school too, and I don’t know what I’m going to do then.

All three kids are Hardts; with Mark signing the papers, I was able to adopt all three easily.

A few months ago, though, when we finally trusted Ryan to stay in a bed and transitioned him out of his crib, Kensley asked me if I’d want to have another baby.

But then she added: one that was mine.

I took her by the shoulders and walked her into our dining room, where we had an accent wall covered with pictures.

Pictures of the kids.

Pictures of us.

Pictures of us with the kids.

Pictures at the farm in Wisconsin, and at the lake up north.

“This is mine. All of it. It’s all mine. And yours. This is all I’ll ever need.”

If she wants another baby, I’m all about it. Hell, we don’t exactly do anything to stop it from happening.

But I also don’t want her thinking that I feel I’m missing out on something.

I still braid London’s hair nearly every day—apparently, I do it better than mama. I’ve even got fancy fishtails and waterfall braids down.

Sawyer is still my little buddy. I hope the day never comes that she can’t hang out with her daddy.

And Ryan…I’m literally the only father he knows.

I’m happy.

Hell, I’m more than happy.

“Alright, man, we gotta get this going,” Johnson says, snapping me back to now.

I nod and put my headphones back on. The commercial is a car one, and it reminds me that Kensley’s upgraded Explorer is due for an oil change. With half an ear on the commercial, I quickly make note on my pad of paper, just in time for the transition jingle to pull through.

“Hey, hey, guys. This is Liam Hardt. Right before break, I mentioned we had an anonymous call. Now, I’m as much in the dark as all of you, but my man Johnson, he assures me it’s safe.” I laugh into the microphone before opening up the call. “Hello, anonymous.” I over-accentuate the word, partly being funny, partly…

Okay, just because it’s funny.

“What can we help you with today?”

“Hey,” the voice comes through, and I frown at the instant tinge of recognition, glancing up at Johnson. His head is down though. “So, a few years ago…” It’s then that the recognition fully clicks.

It’s Kensley.

I didn’t recognize her voice because I wasn’t expecting her to call in, let alone as an anonymous caller.

“A few years ago, I called your station. Back when you did mornings.”

“Yeah,” I say, and I’m grinning wide. I lean forward, curious what Kensley has to say, and why she chose to do it this way.

“I wasn’t in the best of places, but anyway, after I called you, I met this really great guy.”

“Did you?” I chuckle.

“I did. I married this guy.”

“Gotta love a good romance that happens from the radio.”

“It’s a good romance, yeah. Some may even call it a fairy tale romance.”

Yeah, it was. So damn good. “So, what’s up, Kensley?”

She laughs. “So much for anonymous.”

I didn’t even realize my slip, and I laugh into my microphone. “Well, San Diego, anonymous is actually my wife. Sorry. However, I’m as surprised as all of you.”

She sighs heavily into the phone. “Ugh.” I can hear the laughter in her voice, though, so I don’t take it negatively. “This ruins the fun.”

“Naw. I’m still having fun.” And I am. There’s never a day that I don’t have fun with Kensley.

Oh, we’re not perfect. But like I told her once, it took work. It took remembering those first falling in love moments, to pull through all the bad shit. It’s only been three years, sure, but we’re stronger today than we were then, and I can only see us growing stronger.

“Good, good. You see, I wanted to let you and all of San Diego know…” She takes a pause.

A pause so fucking long I’m afraid she’s hung up on me.

Then, two things happen at once.

First, the door to the studio opens, and second, Kensley’s voice is coming at me from both in studio, and my headset.

“I want to let San Diego know you’re going to be a daddy. Again.”

My headphones are off and I stand so quickly from my chair, it topples over. All of this is cause for laughing from Johnson, but I trust he’s got the show under control.

I’m over to Kensley in five strides and she lowers her phone to her side before I can scoop her up in a tight hug, spinning her in a circle.

“You joking?” I ask, putting her back to her feet. “You’re not joking. Don’t be joking.” I put both hands to her flat stomach.

She’s smiling and shaking her head and her eyes are filling with tears.

Happy tears.

Then, so softly, she says, “I’m not joking.”