Sitting up, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Climbing to the top of the bed, Jaycee pushed a pillow behind her back and waited. At least ten minutes must have passed and she was still here by herself. Maybe the baby just needed some comfort. Beck wouldn’t have to bring him up if he just wanted a cuddle.

Then she panicked.

Maybe she was supposed to go downstairs. The babies couldn’t have been up here in the studio if Beck hadn’t been upstairs since before they were born. It was odd to think that the kids had been in here while they’d been growing in her, but hadn’t been allowed up after.

She was about to get up, but stopped, thinking maybe Beck had changed his mind and didn’t want her to meet the babies after all. If she went downstairs, she’d be forcing herself on them, maybe against Beck’s will.

While Jaycee contemplated the right thing to do, Beck took the decision from her by appearing in the doorway with a baby on his shoulder. Her maestro’s large hand cradled the little one’s head and his forearm aligned with the baby’s spine supporting the rest of him.

He brought him over and sat down on the bed beside her. “Jaycee,” he said, bringing the baby down. “You remember Gogh?”

She hadn’t seen the bottle in his hand; she was too shocked by the sight of the tiny wriggling guy in his little blue cotton sleepsuit. “Oh my god,” she said and struggled to keep breathing as Beck guided her arms around his little body. “Beck, I’m going to hurt him.”

“No, you’re not, just relax,” he said, laying one of her arms under Gogh and the other beneath to support the first. “See, he’s fine.”

And he was.

The little guy blinked a couple of times, but seemed to focus on her face and she smiled. “Hey, little one,” she said.

But before she could say anything else, Gogh’s face screwed up, he breathed in and then he started screaming his head off. Jaycee tensed and tried to hand him back to Beck, but Beck just slipped the bottle between the baby’s lips.

Except Gogh turned his head toward her, rubbing on her as he kept on crying. “Come on, man,” Beck said, trying to feed the bottle into his wide, shaking lips, but Gogh wouldn’t close his mouth around it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked over the sound of the distressing cry, while panicking because Gogh’s face was getting redder and redder. “Oh, God, have I broken him?”

“No, Muse, it’s not you. He’s just not a fan of the milk,” he said. “Van is fine, he eats anything. He’s an arrogant little thing too, thinks he rules the roost already. But this guy…” Beck stroked Gogh’s unhappy face and then opened his hand on his son’s belly to soothe him. “We’ve switched formulas to try to find something he likes, but he pukes most of his food back up.”

Her worry was joined by a searing pain in her chest. “Oh, Beck, take him! Take him!”

Beck took the baby from her as she doubled and clasped her breasts. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Feeling moisture between her fingers, Jaycee cursed. “Damn it,” she said. “I thought this was over.”

“What?” he asked, bouncing the screaming baby.

She tried to seek out something to stem the flow. “I’m leaking,” she said, wondering if the embarrassment could get any worse.

“Leaking?” he asked as she clambered off the bed to rush to the bathroom. “Like, milk?”

“Yes, milk,” she called back to him and pulled a towel from the closet. “Shit, oh, it hurts.” Gogh was still screaming, and she hated herself for making a scene when the baby needed his father’s attention. “This was a stupid mistake. I’m so sorry. I’ll get out of here. Just… give me a minute.” She couldn’t put her clothes back on while milk was seeping out of her. “Oh God.”

“Have you been drinking alcohol?” he asked.

Jaycee was surprised to hear the flare of the baby’s cry in the doorway. Spinning around, she saw father and son there watching her. “What? No, why would—”

“Smoking? Getting high?”

“Drugs? I’m not taking any drugs! I can’t even drink coffee anymore. Why? Beck, what are you—”

“Let Gogh make it better,” he said, offering her the crying boy.

Oh no, was it her? “Am I doing this to him?” she asked, moving toward them. “I’m hurting him? It’s because I’m here, isn’t it? He won’t eat because—”

“You have something better than what’s in the bottle,” he said, and it was astounding that he managed to smile. Beck took her hand and she followed him back into the bedroom.

He guided her onto the bed and then put Gogh into her arms again, this time facing the baby into her body rather than to the ceiling. “I don’t know if I can—” Gogh latched onto her and she gasped at the odd sensation of the tiny mouth suckling her. “Oh! Beck.”

“It’s ok,” he said, stroking her hair and Gogh’s at the same time and the smile on his face was something more than pride, but she was too shocked to form any thoughts about her feelings. “Look at him go… Are you ok? Still hurting?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said, unable to take a full breath because she was so afraid she might upset the boy who’d gone from screaming the house down to silent and content in a second. “Beck… this feels really weird.”

But he just grinned and kissed her forehead. “He seems to like it… Do you want to stop?”

What kind of person would stop feeding a hungry baby? “I… I think I’m… I’m ok.”

“You’re more than ok, Muse,” he said and kissed her head again. “You need anything? You want me to get you something to eat or…”

“How long will he feed for? My arm will get tired if—”

“Got it,” he said, lunging down the bed to grab the pillow she’d been using before. Positioning it under her arm, he adjusted the one at her back and made sure she was comfortable. All the while, Gogh just kept on eating. “Ok?”

“I… I think so.”

“Breathe, Muse,” he said, but vaulted off the bed.

“Beck! Oh, God, don’t you dare leave me! Where are you going?”

“Not far,” he said.

Jaycee was surprised to see him return to his armchair and open a new page of his pad. “What about Van?”

“He’s still sleeping, and he eats anything,” Beck said, concentrating on his pad as he propped his feet on the end of the bed again. “He had more than Gogh did at the last feed, he’ll sleep for a while longer. When Gogh is sleeping, nothing disturbs him. Van wakes up if you breathe wrong, that’s why I have to be quick in grabbing Gogh when he wakes up first.”

“But Gogh sleeps through Van crying?” she asked, soothing her finger over the back of the baby’s hand.

Beck nodded. “Gogh is a great sleeper; Van is a great eater… Too much to ask that they both be good at both.”

“Better than them both being bad at both,” she said and tucked her finger under the cuff of Gogh’s onesie. “He’s so tiny, Beck… He’s so soft.”

“Gogh’s like you,” he said, and kept on drawing.

Beck couldn’t have seen how his statement startled her. So much for her just being fun Auntie Jaycee. “He’s… he’s like me?”

“Yeah,” Beck said, working on a narrow area. “He looks at me with his big eyes and I’ll pretty much give him the store.” Phew, ok, that was ok, yeah, that was something she knew how to do as his muse, that was manipulation, not genetics. “Van’s more confident… he and I are gonna butt heads, I can tell already.”

It made her smile to think of father and son in a showdown with poor little Gogh trying his best to stay neutral. “Don’t you put this little guy in the middle,” she said, moving Gogh’s hand as he curled his baby fingers around her index finger. “You two better be nice to him.”

“I think he’s going to be the cool head around here,” Beck said.

Admiring the suckling youngster, she felt something comforting and warm inside her gut. “He’ll be more sensitive,” she said. “Are you going to nurture their artistic talents?”

“If they have them, sure,” he said.

Again, she smiled. “You mean if they’re not like me.”

His mouth slanted, but he kept working. “You have incredible artistic instincts, Muse. You should give yourself more credit.”

“Instinct but no skill,” she said and envisioned how the future would be in this very room. “You could create with them…”

Imagining the boys running around while their father built the canvas for their latest piece, she smiled. It would be incredible. Beck could prop it on the wall so they could all reach. He’d have to sit it on the floor to be near to them. Putting the canvas flat on the floor would be too dangerous; the boys could fall or hurt themselves on it. No, they could do it against the wall. Beck would teach them about the brushes, the colors, show them how to translate their thoughts into art.

“What are you thinking about, Muse?” he asked, and she noticed he’d stopped drawing. “You’ve got your Mona Lisa smile on again.”

“I think you need a new name,” she said, “Something that’s all three of you… you’re going to make beautiful pieces together, Maestro… it’ll be a sight to see.”

“You know they might hate painting,” he said. “Drawing, whatever, they might hate it… Maybe one of them will have your voice.”

“Singing?” she asked and gazed down at the hungry boy feeding from her body. “Then he’ll entertain you while you work. You have so much to teach them, Beck. They’re going to be wonderful boys… Both of them.”

“They’re gonna keep me on my toes,” he said. “This parenting thing it’s… constant.”

“Well you didn’t expect to have two at the same time,” she said, lifting Gogh’s hand to her mouth to kiss his little knuckles. “I don’t know how you get anything done. Do you just spend hours staring at him? He’s so precious.”

“I’m used to working around beauty,” he said. “I’ve learned how to block it out and focus.”

She gasped with excitement as her chin rose. “Yes, The Abyss… we have to show him The Abyss!”

Without actually laughing at her, he managed to share his amusement. “I was talking about you, Muse. You’re the biggest distraction I ever had in here,” he said. Oh, wow, sometimes he knew exactly the right thing to say to shut her up. “Do you think it’s smart to show the kid a piece that turns you on so much?”

Recovering from his compliment, Jaycee didn’t want to make a big deal of how his flattery made her feel. “We can’t hide it from him forever,” she said. “He doesn’t have to know how I feel about it. What’s important is how he feels about it… Promise me you’ll show him.”

Gogh’s little eyes were getting heavy though his mouth was still working fast.

“You can show him,” he said. “You’re better at talking about it than I am.”

“I think he might be falling asleep right now,” she said. “He’ll want to give The Abyss his full attention. It wouldn’t be fair to overwhelm his little mind when he’s sleepy.” Gogh’s eyes blinked open a fraction. “You are sleepy, aren’t you, precious boy? Has your daddy been keeping you awake too long? He used to do that to me too.”

“Hey, Daddy kept you awake for fun, productive reasons. And it’s those boys who dictate the sleeping schedule around here these days. They’ve been keeping me up.” She nuzzled Gogh’s hand again and couldn’t believe how incredible he smelled, like baby powder and Beck. “I don’t hear you giving that little guy into trouble for keeping me awake.”

“How could I give such a perfect, gorgeous little boy into trouble for anything? He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Jaycee didn’t know for how long she stared at the baby, but when she did look up, she found Beck staring at her over the top of his pad. Their eyes locked and she expected him to go back to his sketch, but he didn’t, he just kept looking at her.

What was he thinking about? Her? The baby? Had she said something wrong? Was he upset? “Do you want me to stop feeding him, Maestro?” she asked. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Muse,” he said, his voice low like the thick velvet he was seated on. “I want you to stay right where you are.”

Because she had to stay still for the piece and she’d probably been moving too much. After another couple of seconds, he went back to work. Relaxing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the pillow behind her and felt her body loosen. Being in this bed again after more than six weeks out of it should’ve felt uncomfortable, there should’ve been an adjustment, but this felt so safe… like home.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” she murmured as her body got heavier. “I don’t want to squish Gogh.”

“The boys will take care of that for you, Muse,” Beck said, his voice thick with the concentration she recognized when he was working. “You thought Gogh could cry? Wait ‘til you hear Van, he shakes the fucking rafters.”

“We shouldn’t swear around them,” she muttered. “They can hear.”

She’d said that to him when they were in her belly, now they were out, they had to be more aware of what they were saying, not less. “They hear tone, not specific words,” he said. “But we’ll try to do better if that will make our muse happy.”

“Our?” she asked, her lips curling.

“Sure, look at that little guy go, he’s never been so enthusiastic about anything. Doesn’t he look inspired?”

Lowering her attention, she opened her eyes to admire the creature tucked against her. “He looks perfect, Beckett… More perfect than I could ever have imagined.”

Jaycee had been afraid to meet the boys, though now she had Gogh in her arms, she didn’t know what she’d been scared of. Something about this felt so natural and there was a connection that she couldn’t deny.

It was probably the way everyone felt about babies like him who were so young and vulnerable, there was an instinctive human urge to protect those in need and this little guy needed her. His hunger was humbling and he was taking his sustenance from her body. It was an absolute wonder of biology yet there was something so instinctive about it that it felt fluid, like art.

Jaycee had no idea what she was doing, or how Gogh knew she could, but it wouldn’t be right to deny him, she couldn’t say no to such a perfect boy and he was just that. Perfect.

 

 

It was so late, or maybe so early, that when Jaycee went into the kitchen, she knew the sun wouldn’t be far from coming up. Tossing the strap of her purse over her head, she yawned and headed toward the door.

Van had woken up not long before Gogh finished feeding. Beck winded Gogh while Van had a go at feeding with her too. He was much stronger than his brother. After a few minutes, she sensed he wasn’t getting enough and she was getting sore, so Beck took him to give him the bottle and Gogh slept on the bed beside her without a care in the world.

When Van was done, Beck talked her through her first diaper change, and then put Gogh into his bed. She had the pleasure of putting Van in his crib and then they both admired the now-complete nursery through the shadows formed by the nightlight. Jaycee was worried about the little guy she’d put down and asked Beck to check him several times before she’d let him leave the room. She felt the need to check them herself too and felt odd about walking out of the room and leaving them, even though they were both happy and full.

Spending time with the trio had opened her eyes to how difficult Beck’s life was. Trying to raise two boys on his own was a mammoth task and Jaycee was glad she’d been around to help him, even if it was just for this one night.

But she couldn’t stay forever, hence why she was now getting ready to depart.

“You sure you’ll be ok getting home?” Beck asked, following behind her. “You can take the car if you want. If you think you’re not too tired to drive.”

“You got it out of impound?” she asked, smiling at him over her shoulder. “Did it get towed from the hospital parking lot?”

“It did,” he said, sinking his hands into his pockets. She zipped her jacket and turned to back toward the door. “Pete and Snick got it… I didn’t give a crap about the car, Jayc.”

No, he didn’t care about the car at the best of times, but that night it had been the last thing on his priority list. “It was a crazy night,” she said, stopping when her back met the door. “Feels like forever ago, doesn’t it?”

“In some ways,” he said, walking until he was right up against her. “In others, it was like yesterday.”

Not ignorant to that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t let him take the tease too far. “I never had a chance to tell you thank you. You were incredible, Beck.”

“Are we talking about the hospital or…”

Nudging his body with hers, Jaycee couldn’t believe Pete had said this guy in front of her wasn’t on form; he hadn’t stopped flirting with her all night. “Yes, at the hospital. At AD. All of it. I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“When I heard you lose that note,” he said, it was clear that the memory still pained him. “Damn, Muse, my heart dropped right out my ass. You scared the crap out of me.”

So, that had been it. She’d always wondered what had gotten his attention because he’d been on the stage at her side in a flash. Jaycee knew she hadn’t got his name out, but everything else was a bit of a blur.

“You stepped up, you were there for all three of us when we needed you… That’s how I know you’ll be great at this.”

When his fingertip glided down her jaw, she tipped it up a fraction, but dipped her hand into her bag to pull something else out. Slipping it into his hand, she felt immediately better when he took it from her.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the book she’d just handed over.

“Everything I wrote in the hospital, I copied it into there. I’ve been keeping a journal of my thoughts, everything since the boys were born.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” he asked.

Taking her own hand to his face, she sighed at the comfort she got just from the feel of his stubble. “You’re my maestro, I’m meant to inspire you… There’s no part of me you can’t have.” Though when his eyes dropped to her mouth, she had to clarify. “No part of my inner self… The outsides are for your artistic uses only.”

“Right,” he said, turning over the journal in his hands to admire the embroidered cover.

“There’s, uh… stuff about us in there… stuff about you, so if… if it’s inappropriate or you don’t want to read it, it’s ok, you don’t have to—”

“Have you shared the us stuff with anyone else? The me stuff?”

Clutching his belt for balance, she rose to her tiptoes, still stroking his face with the other hand. “Never, Maestro. You are only mine… and I am yours.”

In every way except the most intimate one. Jaycee would give herself to him in a heartbeat, but if they crossed that line again it would make their goodbye excruciating when it came.

“You can stay the night if you want,” he said. “The bedrooms are still setup downstairs.”

Staying here, and staying away from him, would never last and if she stayed tonight she’d never want to leave again. “Last time I slept here was in the studio.”

“You can sleep upstairs if you want.”

“Alone?”

Keeping his lips still, he somehow managed to smile from behind them. “I don’t know what the right answer is,” he said. “You never have to sleep alone in this house… But if you want to be alone, we won’t disturb you.”

“I’m never alone upstairs,” she said. “That’s part of the reason I love it up there… But I don’t live here anymore, Beck, and if we’re going to do this as friends then we need to start acting like that’s what we are.”

“You will come back,” he said, like he was really afraid she might not. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, Maestro,” she said and moved against him to wrap her arms around his torso.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, nestling her close and tasting her hair.

“If you want,” she said, hoping she wasn’t going to regret her decision to connect with this new family.

“I want,” he said, and she squeezed herself closer.

Letting him go was difficult, walking away from this place that had been her home for so long, was hard too. But Jaycee couldn’t ask him to follow rules if she was going to flout them herself. So, with a kiss on his cheek, she opened the door and walked out.

It would take time, but she’d figure this out, she’d learn how to be Beck’s friend, and a friend to the boys too. This transition was only going to be as hard as she made it. Adjusting her optimism, she vowed to work hard to be a friend to the man who’d supported her through so much, and to support him with raising his boys in any way she could.