Ellie
It felt so good to laugh about Keith with someone who actually knew him—even more than that, someone who had loved him—his own brother. It was a real connection with Peter’s father, despite Keith’s death.
I felt a thousand times lighter, remembering how Keith and I had laughed and hugged after his perfect assessment of our crazy mistake.
It had ended up being a crazy, beautiful, scary mistake—because: Hi, Peter!—but for the very same reason, I would never in my life—ever—want to change the outcome. Despite all the fear and the problems and the worries and everything that had come with Peter’s appearance in my world, he was now the center of my life, and I could not regret the connection with Keith that gave me my son.
Jack didn’t share my laughter, but his eyes smiled back at me. He looked relieved, and he leaned in toward me as well. He got so close, I almost wondered if he was going to kiss me. Of course, Peter chose that moment to announce his awakening, and Jack immediately backed off. I got up to tend to the little bawler.
I’d been in my little room with Petey through half of his nursing session when Jack appeared at the door, one arm raised above his head, leaning against the frame as he silently observed the ritual of breastfeeding. I knew the door was open and I hadn’t taken a blanket to cover myself and Peter’s head as he fed. It wasn’t that I was an exhibitionist, but if I was truly to make myself at home here, this is how I would do it. I didn’t want Peter to feel like his feeding was something to hide—I wasn’t sure if that would affect him subconsciously in later life or not. But also, I maybe wanted Jack to come in, to see us, to see me.
I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I was really turned on by him. I didn’t want to shy away from him or from this connection we seemed to have, even though we’d only known each other for less than a day. It seemed my body was making a choice to leave every door open between us—figurative and literal.
Jack appeared appreciative. After a few moments, he straightened up and entered the room, coming to a stop only when he was right at the side of the bed where he squatted down and reached out a hand to touch Peter’s cheek. I watched the wonder in Jack’s face. He’d probably never been this close to a nursing baby before—hell, he’d probably never been this close to a baby of any kind before.
This whole thing must be rocking his world. I needed to remember that, and to cut him some slack if he ever got really uptight or if the stress of having us around blew up in some way. I’d had months to prepare myself; Jack hadn’t even had twenty-four hours.
Peter petered out on my nipple, and I knew he was done, so I shifted him up to burp and covered myself. Jack backed up but didn’t turn his eyes away from me. He was wearing an appreciative smirk, and I smirked at him right back.
I patted Peter’s little back until he let out the extra air. And some regurge—ah, the joys of infants. Jack was back to watching us from near the door and looked about ready to go back out to the living room when I shocked the hell out of him.
“Hey, come and take Petey so I can get up.”
“Whaa…no! No. I don’t do babies, Ellie.” He looked me straight in the eye and shook his head firmly. Yeah, that was not going to fly.
“Well, maybe you didn’t do babies before, but you do now, buddy. Come on. It’s easy. Just pick him up in your hands so I can get up. Only thing you need to be careful of is his neck and head; he’s not strong enough yet to support it himself, so you gotta make sure you have your fingers behind him, helping him out.”
“Fuckin’ hell.” He seemed suspended by the doorway, unsure whether to come back or run away.
“Come on, Jack. I need your help. It really isn’t hard. He’s not going to bite you, I promise.”
“I’m gonna crush him.”
“You’re not gonna crush him. Just pick him up under his arms, put your fingers behind his neck to support his head. Super easy.”
He did it. The hot huge badass biker came back over to the bedside, leaned down, and gently took Peter face-to-face from my outstretched hands. He held him in a dangle at some distance from his own body, with Peter clasped firmly in his hands just as I had described. He followed my instructions to the letter, which was great since beyond that, he showed absolutely no instinct for childcare.
I forcibly repressed a chuckle, not wanting to undermine his fragile ego. Once I got to my feet, I scuttled around the two of them and moved straight into the living room, not worried about how far behind me Jack would be. I could hear Peter begin to air grievances about the sudden loss of bodily contact, and Jack didn’t wait to air his own, either.
“Take him, already, would you?”
I used my empty water glass as an excuse to lengthen their time together, bringing it back into the kitchen for a refill. “Oh, calm down, Jack. Just sit down with him and let him lay on your chest. He just wants body contact. You’re fine.”
Jack’s face reflected his anxiety, but he reclined on the couch with his head propped up and did as suggested, and we were both rewarded with an almost immediate cessation of baby noise. Peter laid his cheek on Jack’s pec and settled right in. Jack’s face looked funny, as he peered down at the little one with a mix of distrust and bemusement. But when I reentered the room with my water and sat back comfortably on the other half of the couch, Jack pinned me with a piercing look, clearly nonplussed at my lack of maternal possessiveness.
From my vantage point, though, I was totally winning. The image of big tough hot Jack with my baby boy cuddled close on his chest was To Die For. It was so sexy and beautiful, and I just gazed at the two of them in a kind of blissed-out haze for a minute—or two, or three. Really, I have no idea how long it lasted.
Eventually, I felt a nudge on my leg, and I came to with a little jump.
“Wha—?”
“You went to la-la-land,” he said with a smirk. I blushed, knowing he must have been able to track the turn of my thoughts easily. He knew how good he looked. And now, he knew how good he and Peter looked together. We had both just learned that the combination, to me, was kryptonite.
I forced myself to look away, just to get my equilibrium back. Water glass to the rescue.
By the time I returned my attention to Jack, I caught him gazing down at Peter with a kind of wonder in his eyes. I might have even gone so far as to say adoration. Peter really was beautiful, in his way. He was soft and sweet and warm like a little bean, and he inspired love in everyone he’d come across to date.
Jack, it seemed, was just as susceptible as the rest of us. His face had softened, and his body had relaxed under the small weight and warmth on his chest, and his hands had naturally rested lightly atop Peter’s back, securing him in place. As proud mommy to my little warrior, I loved seeing it.
“You look so good together.” Apparently, my mouth was in a sharing mood—the words just popped out, no filter.
“Yeah?” Even Jack’s voice, in its grumble, seemed warmer. Happier.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me about him.”
Wow. Jack had just given me the opening I’d had no idea I needed, but hadn’t known how to find.
“Peter’s…Peter’s a miracle.” Already I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but there was no way I was going to get through this tale without crying some, so I didn’t try to fight them. I grabbed some paper napkins from the pizza delivery on the coffee table, and began to share what Jack should know.
“He was born early—really early, at thirty-two weeks.”
Jack’s face was a blank, and I realized that that number meant nothing to him.
“Okay, so normal pregnancies last for forty weeks. He was eight weeks early. That’s close to a full two months. He was only four pounds, one ounce, and he lost weight after he was born. He was so tiny. But he’s eleven weeks old now, so he’s doing pretty well, considering. But…” The tears started spilling, and I looked away, trying to control my breathing enough to go on. This was always the worst part, and I hadn’t yet learned how to tell it well.
“But…? Ellie, spill. That was one hell of a ‘but’. He looks okay to me, it can’t be that bad.”
“Peter has a congenital heart defect. It was discovered when he was four weeks old—he was still in the hospital. He’d been having some trouble feeding, sweating through his onesies. God, I was so scared. But they did a bunch of tests and figured out what was wrong. There were some issues with the left side of his heart, and they were able to fix the worst part with a surgery, but he’ll have to go back for more operations as he gets older and bigger and stronger. So it’s not over, not really. But he’s a fighter; he’ll make it. He’ll make it.” My tears poured. Peter would make it, but I wasn’t so sure about myself. I was still a wreck, every time I let myself think about it.
Jack looked torn. His hands pressed Peter with even more warmth, more care now. More love. I don’t know how I could see that, but I could. At this point, Jack’s eyes were on me, and he looked pissed off and worried and frustrated, all at the same time. Like he didn’t know how to keep hold of Peter, but he was also obviously unhappy about my crying, and wanted to do something to counter it. I couldn’t tell if it was a general uneasiness with a woman’s tears, or a reaction specific to my sob story and that of my baby.
And damn, but I hated that I was so stereotypical. Sob story. It was my reality, though, and if it made me cry, I’d own it. I had earned these tears, damn it.
“Okay, Ellie. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe…if this little guy is actually Keith’s—and I want to believe that he is, I’m telling you that right now—if he is, you have to know I’ll do anything I can to help you out. Long haul. I’m all in. Damn, how long is that test going to take? When’s the next surgery? Is he okay? He’s not going to suffocate on me or anything, is he? Should you take him from me now? I don’t want to hurt him.”
“No, no, he’s fine. He’s okay. He’s good right now. Look, he fell asleep on you. He’s good where he is.”
“I think you should take him back. Like, now.” Jack looked agitated. Actually, that was an understatement. Jack looked about ready to jump out of his own skin.
I got up and gathered my little sleepy bean into my arms and kissed his sweet head. The moment Jack was free, he jumped up and started pacing the room, running his hands through his hair. I watched him for a minute, then moved toward my room to put the baby down.
Jack body-blocked me, gently putting his hands on my shoulders and protectively keeping space for Peter between us. “Where are you going?”
“I’m just gonna lay him down in his basket. It’ll be easier for him to sleep where it’s quieter. He wakes up really easily.” And I disappeared for a minute into my room. Petey was totally out, so I was back in less than a minute.
“You’re sure he’s okay in there? What if something happens and we don’t…we gotta get one of those radio things. Shit. Where do we get one of those radio things for babies?”
“You mean a baby monitor? They have ’em all over the place. We can pick one up tomorrow if you want.”
“Yeah. Okay. We gotta do that. Might go tonight, get some stuff. That’d be good, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Jack. That’d be really good.” I smiled at him. This man was turning into a hero before my eyes. I knew it was dangerous, all these feels I was having toward and about him, but I couldn’t help it. I was blown away by the leaps in generosity and kindness he was showing. Maybe Jack would be the answer...
“…so I can get that, too. And you probably need diapers, right? Anything else? Hey. Hey! Yo, Ellie, babe. Come back. You wandered off again.”
“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, realizing that Jack had sat down at the dividing bar between the kitchen and living room and was making a list. Man of action. I liked that.
“Check it out. Add on whatever you think you need, and I’ll make a run. No point waiting, right? Store’s open. You finish the list, I’m gonna hit the head and then gone. ’Kay?”
“’Kay.” And I applied myself to the list, adjusting it mostly for sizes and best-use frugality, as had been my MO for most of my adult life.
When Jack came back from the bathroom, he took up the list, then came right up to me, front-to-front, and put his arms around me in a huge bear hug. I was a little bit shocked at first, not expecting that at all, but he held on for so long that I finally relaxed into it and breathed.
He smelled so good—damn, I felt a flush of damp in my panties again—but he also just felt so big and strong, like a boulder that wouldn’t let me fall, and I breathed him in deeply.
Eventually, he pulled away a few inches, looked deeply into my eyes, and swore, “He’s going to be good, Ellie. He will.”
I don’t know if he was saying it for my sake or for his own, but it was both a promise and a prayer. It was deep. I nodded, and he slowly leaned in and kissed my lips.
His lips were warm and soft and firm all at the same time. He didn’t try to deepen it, but he didn’t make it quick. It was so sexy, just a small taste, a testing of the waters. But the intention behind it was more than that—it was a kind of confirmation that I wasn’t alone now. There was an empathy, a togetherness.
I took full advantage of the moment and breathed in his scent—I’m pretty sure he did the same to me—which only confirmed that this man and I had some serious chemistry together. He smelled and felt amazing. I wanted the kiss to go on forever.
But just as I was about to open my mouth to him, he lifted his mouth away, ending the connection.
His eyes stayed on my mouth for several moments, and then shifted up to meet my eyes. We both just held that look, still breathing one another in.
Then his arms fell away. He picked up the shopping list and, pointing to the notepad on the counter, muttered, “You need me, my number’s there. Put it first in your phone.”