Gabriel

 “Can we talk?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t we be able to talk?”

“Because it might wake him!”

“He’s a solid sleeper. For now, anyway. I’m sure he’ll be giving us hell in a few days, though.”

We both looked at him in rapt silence for a moment.

“How is it possible that we made him?” I whispered, touching the baby’s head with a reverent finger.

I was almost afraid to touch him, which Noah had already made fun of me for. He was lifting and carrying and cuddling the baby like it was nothing, like it was easy. Maybe it was different if you’d actually given birth to him. He was just so small, I was afraid I’d hurt him with my clumsy big hands and my general largeness.

“Well, I did more of the work,” Noah pointed out.

I kissed him soundly on the mouth, careful not to jostle the baby in his arms. His phone began vibrating on the bed, and I jumped.

“What’s that?” I asked, curiously, as Noah silenced it. It looked like an alarm.

“It’s time to feed him,” Noah explained.

“But he’s not awake,” I said, confused.

“Oh, he will be,” Noah said with a snort. “If there’s one thing our baby won’t miss, it’s dinner time.”

Just hearing him say the words ‘our baby’ was doing strange things to my heart. I looked at our baby’s wrinkled, red face and felt the warm swell in my chest. It also felt like I was having a heart attack, simultaneously, but Noah assured me that it was entirely normal to feel that way.

“The nurse said you get used to the baby after a few days, when it turns into this vomiting, screaming little monster, and then you just want to run away screaming, so it’s not always going to be like this.”

“That nurse is lying,” I said with certainty. There was no way my feelings for little baby Nathan would change from this single-minded devotion. He’d only been alive for a few hours and I already knew that I would take a running jump off a cliff for him, take a series of bullets for him, anything that I had to do to keep him and Noah safe.

Noah looked tired, but beautiful. His face was glowing in an unearthly way. I finally understood what people meant when they said that new mothers looked radiant. His hair was damp and plastered to the sides of his face, and sticking up funnily on top. I stroked it tenderly as we watched the baby.

Who woke up a minute after the alarm like he’d been shocked, and began to cry loudly and determinedly.

“All right, all right already,” Noah said, laughter in his voice as he picked up the baby. He immediately fell silent, maybe sensing the presence of his daddy. Noah lowered the front of his gown until the tip of one breast was flush with the baby’s mouth.

The baby yawned as we watched expectantly, and did…nothing.

“Come on,” I urged, “You’ve got to eat, honey.”

Finally, he opened his little mouth almost lazily and began suckling. Noah rocked him soothingly as he ate.

“I forgot to ask,” he said, after a moment of silence, “What happened to Uncle Nicholas? And Lucas?”

“Actually, Mama called while you were in the birthing room. Uncle Nicholas is leaving the country, officially for some ‘rest and relaxation’. He agreed to never speak to the reporters again, or try to get in contact with us.”

“Really?” Noah said, surprised. “He’s going, just like that?”

“Not exactly. Mama had the throne’s lawyers come in and tell him exactly what his sentence could be if he were found guilty of treason.”

“Many years, I’m guessing?”

“A few decades, at best.”

“Ouch. Probably for the best, though. I’m sorry, Gabriel. I knew you loved him.”

“Well, never mind,” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t bothered. “Sometimes you get along with your family, and sometimes they try to remove you from the line of succession by ruining your reputation with the world. It happens.”

“Very normal,” Noah agreed. “But what’s Lucas going to do?”

“I have no idea. That is a problem. I know Mama invited him to stay at the palace forever, but he’s taking it hard.”

“That makes sense. Did he say how he found out?”

“I think he said he found some numbers in Uncle Nicholas’s study for various tabloid editors.”

“He kept print copies of his contacts?”

“Uncle Nicholas was famously averse to technology, which kind of bit him in the ass in the end.”

The baby sputtered suddenly, interrupting our conversation.

“What’s he doing?” I asked, excited. Noah laughed at me for it, but I didn’t care.

“He’s—ugh, he’s throwing up,” Noah sighed, reaching for some napkins. “Here, hold him while I clean up.”

“Hold—Nathan?” I asked stupidly, as Noah thrust the bundle of baby into my arms.

“Yes!” Noah said impatiently, cleaning the front of his gown quickly.

“But I’m—I don’t know how to do this!” I whispered frantically, doing a weird juggling movement with the baby in my arms.

“He’s your baby, Gabriel, you’re going to have to learn at some point. No, don’t hold him like he’s a hot bowl from the microwave, okay? Just…make a cradle with your arms…yes, like that, and let him just kind of curl up there. There, much better.”

I looked down at Nathan’s face, frozen with worry and fear.

“What if I drop him?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t get a warranty on him.”

“Very funny.”

“Just don’t drop him. That’s not hard, is it?”

“You would think,” I muttered, still looking down at his little face. “He looks a little like my grandpa.”

“Was your grandpa a looker?”

“Not really.”

“Well, let Nathan grow into his nose. And maybe give him a few days to unwrinkle.”

“I don’t care what he looks like,” I said, smiling down, “He’s perfect.”

I tickled his cheek with a finger. He didn’t wake up, he didn’t even stir. Little Nathan was apparently a deep sleeper.

“The thing that really gets me,” Noah said, head on my shoulder as we both cuddled on the bed, the baby between us, “Is how he has little hands and legs. Like miniature ones. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s insane,” I said, stroking his little hand and his fat little arm with my thumb. His whole plump arm was probably the length of my hand. I felt helpless in the face of his existence.

“I’m not going to get anything done with Nathan around,” I said, not feeling very sorry about it.

“We could take him with us to interviews,” Noah suggested.

 “That would actually be hilarious,” I snorted. “Imagine Tracey asking him questions.”

“He’d answer with babbling. Or maybe he’d sleep through them.”

“That would be very rude, Nathan,” I informed him.

The baby sputtered in his sleep and wriggled a little. Swaddled in blankets as he was, he looked like a big burrito with a baby’s head sticking out of it.

“What d’you think he smells like?” I asked, sniffing Nathan’s head. “it’s just so…good. But I don’t know what it’s called.”

“It’s called new baby smell,” Noah said, smiling adoringly at Nathan, “All babies have it. It’s like a superpower that keeps us obsessed with them and obedient to their every whim. How else d’you think people feed babies like seven times a day and live with three hours of sleep a night? And the teething, oh god, the teething!”

“That makes sense,” I said, rubbing my chin gently on top of Nathan’s head.

I’d read all about baby’s skulls being fragile—their bones weren’t even grown yet when they were born!—so it made me extra careful when touching anything around the head area.

“I forgot to mention that I brought everything you need for the hospital stay.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to, though. It’s only one night.”

“I’m not having you or the baby sleeping in hospital nylons.”

“Which outfit did you bring for the baby?”

In the months leading up to Noah’s due date, the most fun we’d had was the time we’d spent online ordering baby clothes for Nathan. We bought tiny pants and shirts and even little puffer jackets and mittens that looked they belonged in a dollhouse, tiny booties that were smaller than my thumb, and I had insisted on buying a grey cashmere scarf, which was what Noah had made fun of me for the most.

“He’s going to grow out of it in weeks!” he pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Yes, but that’s something a practical person would say,” I said in return, “And the royal family of Merovia is the opposite of practical.”

Surprisingly, Mama had taken my side on this one.

“My grandson will have everything he could conceivably need,” she said firmly when we left it up to her to decide who would win the argument, “Even things that he can’t need. And yes, I agree with Noah, Nathan can’t possibly need a cashmere scarf that he can’t use in a month, but think of how adorable he will look until then!”

“I brought the striped onesie—“

“I love that onesie! I picked it out!”

“I know you did. And I brought his little grey booties that look like trainers, because our son is going to be a fashion-forward little guy. And I brought—this!” I took out the little soft scrap of cloth that was Nathan’s scarf and waved it at Noah, who didn’t look thrilled.

“All right,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Whatever. You know our son won’t even remember it exists in a few years, right?”

“He will when I show him the photos,” I said stubbornly, “Of which there will be dozens. Maybe hundreds.”

“Did you remember to bring his blanket?”

“Of course I did! What do you take me for? Here’s your blanket, Nathan. It’s going to be your best friend in the whole world, at least until we get you your first horse—“

“He’s not getting a horse until he’s fifteen,” Noah reminded me firmly, “Maybe a pony. A gentle, well-behaved pony that doesn’t bite!”

“Ponies are evil,” I informed Noah. “It’s concerning that you don’t know that. How am I supposed to leave the baby alone with you, Noah?!”

“Very funny,” Noah said.

We both looked down as the baby burbled and waved his arms a little, before settling down again.

“Was that--?”

“Yeah, I think he just had his first dream.”