Better Daddy, page 13
The day itself is perfect, in fact.
That is until Sully and I enter the apartment in Jersey again and find ourselves engulfed in chaos.
He steps in front of me, as if he needs to shield me from the mayhem. “What in the bloody hell are you doing?”
Chapter 18
Sloane
“Isn’t it perfect?” Cal’s shout is strained, since he’s balancing what is easily a twelve-foot tree while Lo stands back and yells to the left, to the right.
Yeah, there’s no way to center that damn tree. Not when it literally touches the ceiling. We either need to cut a hole up there or trim the top.
Considering I get more than enough of Madame E as it is, I don’t think cutting a hole in her floor is the way to go.
I cringe. “I don’t know if I’d call it perfect.”
Sully, who’s still standing between me and all the commotion, shouts, “Why in bloody hell would you buy a tree that big!”
Cal straightens and huffs, like he’s affronted by the question. “It’s Murphy’s first Christmas with us.”
In his effort to explain, he releases the tree, and it tilts to one side. Luckily, it’s wedged against the crown molding, so it doesn’t fall over completely.
“Now look what you did,” Sully grumbles.
Lo yells, “More to the right!”
“Where’s Brian?” I ask. “And the kids?”
Lo shifts her focus from the tree to me. “They went to walk Fuzzy. How was the doctor?”
I smile at Sully. “It was good. Baby is measuring right on time.”
Cal grins widely at us. “I can’t wait to be an uncle again. When are you telling T.J.?”
“Telling me what?”
We spin around to find T. J. and Murphy with Brian and his monstrosity of a cat behind them.
Rather than step into the room, the cat cowers, backing away from the tree, and darts behind the man he’s imprinted on.
“What the hell did you do?” Brian yells. He steps forward, only to tumble to the floor because the cat’s leash is wrapped around his legs.
“Shit.” I rush to help him up while Sully tries to unhook Fuzzy from his leash. “Maybe try rolling left.”
He goes right.
“Your other left.”
He goes right again.
“Brian,” I grit out. “Work with me here.”
“Dammit,” T.J. and Murphy say, mimicking Brian’s voice. They dissolve into fits of giggles and fall into a heap.
The cat, thinking he’s being called, prances around them.
I yank on the leash, figuring I might have an easier time, but I think it gets caught on Brian’s zipper, and he yowls, grabbing his crotch.
“Dammit!” he grits out.
The cat lunges for him, landing on his chest with enough force to knock the wind from him. His back paws, unfortunately, hit Brian right where the sun doesn’t shine.
The howl he lets loose sends shivers down my spine.
“I’ll get ice,” Lo calls.
“Why doesn’t Fuzzy ever snuggle me like that?” Cal pouts.
Sully blows out a breath. “Maybe we should take T.J. out to tell him the big news.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
“Can I get ice cream?” T.J. asks before we’ve even entered the restaurant across the street. He’s been begging us to tell him the big news since we got Brian untangled.
Bringing T.J. to the Grasshopper to tell him feels right. There’s a sense of kismet here. This is where we had dinner the night our baby bear was made, so telling T.J. about him or her here feels like coming full circle.
Our future may still be uncertain, but Sully and I are a team. We have to be. So I’m thankful we can do this together.
“Let’s sit, then we can order ice cream,” Sully tells him.
Before he can finish the sentence, T.J. is asking for change so he can play Pac-Man.
So much for his dire need to know our secret.
We let him go, figuring it’s best if he works off some of the energy before we force him to sit and talk. At least he’ll have ice cream to entertain him when he comes back.
“So what are we telling him?” I ask once the server has dropped off his ice cream.
Sully shrugs. “That he’s going to be a big brother?”
I nod, though suddenly I’m not sure that’s the angle I want to go with. But what’s the alternative? “Good, good. That’s exactly how we should present it. Good idea.”
Brows lowering, Sully assesses me for a second. Then, with a shake of his head, he calls T.J. over.
He’s right. It’s important for us to focus on our son and his role as a big brother. That will make it easier to steer clear of questions about our family dynamic. A week ago, I would have been dead set on sticking to that. Now, though, the idea leaves me feeling a little crushed.
Maybe because I’ve gotten so used to being in the apartment with the little family that Sully, Cal, and Brian have created because of Terry’s trust. It’s nice having people around. It leaves little time for me to feel lonely.
What’ll happen when it’s time to leave?
My stomach twists painfully at the thought.
Will Sully and I share custody? Two apartments. Mine unbearably quiet on the nights Sully has the kids. And spending days away from an infant? I don’t know that I can handle it, yet it would be unfair to keep Sully from his child.
Shaking free of my spiraling thoughts, I force myself to focus on the matter at hand.
“We have some exciting news,” Sully starts as T.J. shovels ice cream into his mouth.
“Yes, you’re going to be a big brother. Isn’t that exciting?” I ask with a smile.
T.J. freezes with another spoonful of ice cream in the air, his eyes locked on me, his expression flat. “You’re having a baby?”
Dread washes over me like a wave. Shoot. I hadn’t considered that he might not want to be a big brother. What if he freaks out? Maybe we shouldn’t have done this in such a public place. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to toss his ice cream across the table.
“Yes,” Sully chimes in. “Your mother is having a baby, which means you get to be a big brother. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Where will the baby live?” T.J. asks, still pensive. The question is almost accusing. Far too knowing.
And dammit, my stomach is in knots.
“With us,” Sully responds easily.
T.J.’s whole body relaxes and he breaks into a smile. “Cool.” With that, he shoves another bite of ice cream into his mouth.
It occurs to me then that our son is far more in tune with what’s going on than I realized.
And it kills me that he even has to be concerned about it. I may be questioning what will happen in the future, but I never want my son to have to worry about that. I hate that it’s even a thought. More than anything, I want this time to be joyful for him.
“Is it a boy?” T.J. asks.
“We don’t know, bud. We thought we’d wait to find out with you at Mum’s next doctor’s appointment.”
With another nod, he stabs his spoon into the bowl in front of him. As usual, he’s determined to eat quickly so he can play again.
“If it is a boy, he’ll be your little brother, just like Cal is my little brother,” Sully says with a grin.
“Can I go play again?” he asks, holding up his empty bowl.
We nod, and he’s gone.
I sigh as he trips over his feet but rights himself without falling. “That went okay, I think.”
Sully nods, his attention set on our little boy. “I should have kept him around and talked up the idea of a sister too. Hopefully he’ll be happy either way,” he says under his breath.
“I’m just happy he won’t be alone like me,” I quip.
Sully stiffens and frowns at me. “You’re not alone.”
I try to smile, try to make it easier on him. Brush off the off handed remark like it’s nothing, but Sully’s frown doesn’t fade. He studies me like he knows how scared I am of the future. Like he understands that I can barely breathe when I think of a future without him in it. “Sweetheart,” his voice is a whisper as he reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve got all of us. No matter what happens between you and me, we’re family.”
My heart free-falls in my chest. His tone is stern, but it’s sincere, his words the honest truth. And they’re exactly what I needed to hear.
Chapter 19
Sully
Across the massive dining table, Brian stares vacantly, the melancholy expression out of place, especially because it’s Christmas Eve.
“You good?”
He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. The colored lights from the tree make his face look blue, which seems to fit his mood. “I don’t know. Just feels weird.”
“What?” I need clarification. He could be talking about the enormous tree or the massive cat that’s practically on his lap or the smell of whatever Cal burned that’s still lingering in the air.
“Dad moved up to Boston with Dylan, and with everything going on, I couldn’t make the trip up. It’s weird, not being with my family on Christmas.”
Six months ago, Frank Machon relocated so he could be closer to Brian’s sister and her kids. And I’m a jackass for not even considering that Brian might be lonely.
I’ve always assumed that Brian knows that, as far as the Murphys are concerned, he’s family. We’ve been friends for twenty years, and my dad hired him straight out of law school. There’s no way he’ll ever shake us.
“You’ve got us,” I remind him, putting my thoughts into words. If I learned anything from my problems with Sloane, it’s that I have to tell people how I feel, not just assume they know.
He purses his lips, and for a second, I think he’ll argue. Instead, he nods once. “I know. But now that you and Cal have your own families…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure I belong.”
“Belong where?” Cal asks from behind me.
Brian looks at Cal, his eyes widening.
Oh bullocks. What has my idiot of a brother done now? With a grunt, I turn and assess him. Immediately, a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh leaves my lips.
“Isn’t it great?” Cal twists, shaking his arse, flaunting his ridiculous pajamas. They’re a god-awful green color and looks similar to what one of Santa’s elves would wear. The bottoms even have an arse flap.
And his name.
Daddy Cal.
I shake my head. God only knows whether he chose the name because of his relationship with his son or if that’s a nickname courtesy of Lo.
“It even has a hat.” Cal adjusts the pointed stocking cap on his head, jingling the white ball on the tip.
Brian snorts, and I can’t help but laugh.
Bloody hell, my brother looks ridiculous.
“They’re perfect, Uncle Cal.” T.J. barrels into the living room, dragging his cousin behind him.
The sight of the boys in matching pajamas—both with their names stamped on their own arse flaps—makes it hard not to smile.
T.J. bounces up and down beside my brother.
“Aren’t these so cool, Dad?”
I nod. My little lad looks adorable in anything. Even outlandish pajama sets.
He beams up at Cal, his hands clasped in front of him. “See? I told you he’d wear them too.”
My lungs seize up. What now?
Cal grins, his chest puffed out. “Uncle Brian, too, I hope. We’re a family, so it’s not Christmas unless we’re wearing matching pj’s.”
Murphy, who looks slightly less enthusiastic, steps up and sets two clear packages on the table. “Apparently, we all have to be elves. Lo and Aunt Sloane are changing into theirs too.”
In almost any other situation, I’d flat-out refuse to take part in my brother’s nonsense. But it’s Christmas. I want it to be perfect for both T.J. and Sloane. If T. J. wants us to wear matching pajamas, then I’m in.
“We’ll put them on,” I assure my son.
“You know what would be fun?” T. J.’s eyes dance in a way that concerns me. Like there’s a good chance he’s about to scale the side of the building like Spider-Man. Again.
“What? I need to know so we can have all the fun.” Cal claps a little too loudly. Since Murphy showed up unexpectedly a few months ago, it’s been my brother’s mission to make sure his son is happy. And having the best Christmas is important. I understand his obsession more than I ever thought I could.
“It’s fun that Santa will come,” Murphy assures his dad.
Cal’s expression darkens. Last week, when Murphy told us that Santa always skips his house, I thought my brother was going to book a flight to LA so he could curse Murphy’s mum out in person. Maybe ring her neck too.
Lo talked him down, and now Cal is focused on ensuring this Christmas is over-the-top enough to make up for the six lackluster years Murphy lived before meeting his father. My brother may irritate the piss out of me most days, but I have nothing but respect for how he handled unexpectedly becoming a father to a six-year-old.
I would not have been as easygoing had I discovered I had a child only when he was left at our office with nothing more than a backpack and a note. My brother never went on the attack, though. He just became the father Murphy needs. And that’s a feat for a reformed man-child. He’s matured decades in the handful of months that Murphy’s been here.
“I think it would be fun if Murphy and I could have a sleepover in his room,” T.J. announces. “Right, Murphy?”
Murphy eyes his dad. “If it’s okay…”
“Anything you want,” my brother promises.
“Yes!” T.J. pumps a fist and bounces closer to his cousin. Then he whisper-shouts, “We can stay up and catch Santa together.”
“What?” Cal’s spine goes ramrod straight.
I chuckle. T.J.’s tried to catch Santa for the last two years, but there’s no way he won’t pass out before midnight. “You two go brush your teeth. Then we’ll read The Night Before Christmas and get cookies out.”
“And everyone gets to open one present,” T.J. reminds us, as if we could possibly have forgotten that. All day he’s been talking about whose present he’ll open.
“I still think you should open mine.” Cal rocks back on his heels, smirking.
“Or…” T.J. drags the word out. “Maybe we should open one from each person.” He tilts his head and breaks into his most winning smile. The little bugger never quits. We’ve shot down the suggestion three times already today.
“T.J.,” I warn.
He giggles. “Okay. Only one present tonight.”
I point to the hall. “Teeth.”
With a nod, he turns to his cousin. “Let’s go. We can make a big bed out of blankets on your floor.” He darts toward Murphy’s room with Murphy a few steps behind him. Once the boys disappear, I stand up.
“They can’t catch Santa.” Cal’s panicked comment is directed at me.
I chuckle. “Don’t worry. They’ll be asleep in an hour. Come on.” I pick up both sets of pajamas off the table and toss one to Brian.
He swipes the bag out of the air and stands, knocking the cat’s head off his legs. The cat lets out a how dare you? hiss in response.
“Chill.” Brian frowns at the giant feline.
With a twitch of his nose, he leaps onto the table.
“Aw, over here, Fuzzy,” Cal coos.
Nose in the air, the cat ignores him, instead gracefully jumping to the floor and padding toward Brian’s bedroom.
“Dammit.” Brian glowers as Fuzzy disappears through the open doorway.
“Don’t worry, he’ll come back for the Christmas treats I got him.” Cal rushes to the tree and picks up a bag adorned with a kitten in a full Santa suit. “We’ll do presents once you wankers have changed.”
Brian groans. “You really expect me to wear this?”
“The whole family needs to match,” I say. “And that includes you.”
Cal nods, fiddling with the gift bag. “Yes, and we elves have a lot of work to do after the kids go to bed. We have to put the bikes together and hang the stockings and wrap the rest of the gifts.”
Brian shakes his head. “Sounds like Christmas at Dylan’s.”
“Exactly.” I skirt around him. “This is what Christmas with family looks like, and we’re family,” I remind him.
I knock on my closed bedroom door, and when Sloane says, “Come in,” I twist the knob and duck inside.
The view before me stops me in my tracks.
“Do not laugh at me,” she warns, running her hands down her sides to smooth out the red shirt. The fitted pajamas give me the perfect view of the small bump on my wife’s lower stomach. The knowledge that our child is growing safely inside her makes my chest swell.
“I know I look ridiculous.”
“No, sweetheart.” I take a tentative step forward. “You could never look ridiculous. You look radiant.”
Fighting the urge to reach out to her, I clench my hands at my sides.
As if she noticed the movement, she shuffles closer and gently grasps my wrist. Then, with her eyes locked on mine, she places my palm against her lower stomach.
Her warmth soaks into me, waking up every dormant part of me. I haven’t felt this alive in months. Maybe years. Emotion welling up inside me, I lower my focus to where we’re touching.
“You can’t feel anything yet.” Her voice is low, raspy.
Nodding, I swallow down the lump in my throat. That’ll come later. Right now, touching her, feeling the swell that is our baby, is enough.
She wets her lips, searching my face, the look in her eyes one I haven’t seen in months. It’s pure desire. She looks like she wants me to kiss her. Hell, she looks like she needs it.
A weight I’ve been carrying for way too long lifts, making it easier to breathe. My wife still wants me.
I angle in a fraction, and she tilts her chin up and inches closer to me. My pulse kicks up, thumping in my ears. Six inches. That’s all the space left between us. Her lips part, her breath warm on my face. The need to kiss her, to once again feel her mouth against mine, pounds through me.
That is until Sully and I enter the apartment in Jersey again and find ourselves engulfed in chaos.
He steps in front of me, as if he needs to shield me from the mayhem. “What in the bloody hell are you doing?”
Chapter 18
Sloane
“Isn’t it perfect?” Cal’s shout is strained, since he’s balancing what is easily a twelve-foot tree while Lo stands back and yells to the left, to the right.
Yeah, there’s no way to center that damn tree. Not when it literally touches the ceiling. We either need to cut a hole up there or trim the top.
Considering I get more than enough of Madame E as it is, I don’t think cutting a hole in her floor is the way to go.
I cringe. “I don’t know if I’d call it perfect.”
Sully, who’s still standing between me and all the commotion, shouts, “Why in bloody hell would you buy a tree that big!”
Cal straightens and huffs, like he’s affronted by the question. “It’s Murphy’s first Christmas with us.”
In his effort to explain, he releases the tree, and it tilts to one side. Luckily, it’s wedged against the crown molding, so it doesn’t fall over completely.
“Now look what you did,” Sully grumbles.
Lo yells, “More to the right!”
“Where’s Brian?” I ask. “And the kids?”
Lo shifts her focus from the tree to me. “They went to walk Fuzzy. How was the doctor?”
I smile at Sully. “It was good. Baby is measuring right on time.”
Cal grins widely at us. “I can’t wait to be an uncle again. When are you telling T.J.?”
“Telling me what?”
We spin around to find T. J. and Murphy with Brian and his monstrosity of a cat behind them.
Rather than step into the room, the cat cowers, backing away from the tree, and darts behind the man he’s imprinted on.
“What the hell did you do?” Brian yells. He steps forward, only to tumble to the floor because the cat’s leash is wrapped around his legs.
“Shit.” I rush to help him up while Sully tries to unhook Fuzzy from his leash. “Maybe try rolling left.”
He goes right.
“Your other left.”
He goes right again.
“Brian,” I grit out. “Work with me here.”
“Dammit,” T.J. and Murphy say, mimicking Brian’s voice. They dissolve into fits of giggles and fall into a heap.
The cat, thinking he’s being called, prances around them.
I yank on the leash, figuring I might have an easier time, but I think it gets caught on Brian’s zipper, and he yowls, grabbing his crotch.
“Dammit!” he grits out.
The cat lunges for him, landing on his chest with enough force to knock the wind from him. His back paws, unfortunately, hit Brian right where the sun doesn’t shine.
The howl he lets loose sends shivers down my spine.
“I’ll get ice,” Lo calls.
“Why doesn’t Fuzzy ever snuggle me like that?” Cal pouts.
Sully blows out a breath. “Maybe we should take T.J. out to tell him the big news.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
“Can I get ice cream?” T.J. asks before we’ve even entered the restaurant across the street. He’s been begging us to tell him the big news since we got Brian untangled.
Bringing T.J. to the Grasshopper to tell him feels right. There’s a sense of kismet here. This is where we had dinner the night our baby bear was made, so telling T.J. about him or her here feels like coming full circle.
Our future may still be uncertain, but Sully and I are a team. We have to be. So I’m thankful we can do this together.
“Let’s sit, then we can order ice cream,” Sully tells him.
Before he can finish the sentence, T.J. is asking for change so he can play Pac-Man.
So much for his dire need to know our secret.
We let him go, figuring it’s best if he works off some of the energy before we force him to sit and talk. At least he’ll have ice cream to entertain him when he comes back.
“So what are we telling him?” I ask once the server has dropped off his ice cream.
Sully shrugs. “That he’s going to be a big brother?”
I nod, though suddenly I’m not sure that’s the angle I want to go with. But what’s the alternative? “Good, good. That’s exactly how we should present it. Good idea.”
Brows lowering, Sully assesses me for a second. Then, with a shake of his head, he calls T.J. over.
He’s right. It’s important for us to focus on our son and his role as a big brother. That will make it easier to steer clear of questions about our family dynamic. A week ago, I would have been dead set on sticking to that. Now, though, the idea leaves me feeling a little crushed.
Maybe because I’ve gotten so used to being in the apartment with the little family that Sully, Cal, and Brian have created because of Terry’s trust. It’s nice having people around. It leaves little time for me to feel lonely.
What’ll happen when it’s time to leave?
My stomach twists painfully at the thought.
Will Sully and I share custody? Two apartments. Mine unbearably quiet on the nights Sully has the kids. And spending days away from an infant? I don’t know that I can handle it, yet it would be unfair to keep Sully from his child.
Shaking free of my spiraling thoughts, I force myself to focus on the matter at hand.
“We have some exciting news,” Sully starts as T.J. shovels ice cream into his mouth.
“Yes, you’re going to be a big brother. Isn’t that exciting?” I ask with a smile.
T.J. freezes with another spoonful of ice cream in the air, his eyes locked on me, his expression flat. “You’re having a baby?”
Dread washes over me like a wave. Shoot. I hadn’t considered that he might not want to be a big brother. What if he freaks out? Maybe we shouldn’t have done this in such a public place. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to toss his ice cream across the table.
“Yes,” Sully chimes in. “Your mother is having a baby, which means you get to be a big brother. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Where will the baby live?” T.J. asks, still pensive. The question is almost accusing. Far too knowing.
And dammit, my stomach is in knots.
“With us,” Sully responds easily.
T.J.’s whole body relaxes and he breaks into a smile. “Cool.” With that, he shoves another bite of ice cream into his mouth.
It occurs to me then that our son is far more in tune with what’s going on than I realized.
And it kills me that he even has to be concerned about it. I may be questioning what will happen in the future, but I never want my son to have to worry about that. I hate that it’s even a thought. More than anything, I want this time to be joyful for him.
“Is it a boy?” T.J. asks.
“We don’t know, bud. We thought we’d wait to find out with you at Mum’s next doctor’s appointment.”
With another nod, he stabs his spoon into the bowl in front of him. As usual, he’s determined to eat quickly so he can play again.
“If it is a boy, he’ll be your little brother, just like Cal is my little brother,” Sully says with a grin.
“Can I go play again?” he asks, holding up his empty bowl.
We nod, and he’s gone.
I sigh as he trips over his feet but rights himself without falling. “That went okay, I think.”
Sully nods, his attention set on our little boy. “I should have kept him around and talked up the idea of a sister too. Hopefully he’ll be happy either way,” he says under his breath.
“I’m just happy he won’t be alone like me,” I quip.
Sully stiffens and frowns at me. “You’re not alone.”
I try to smile, try to make it easier on him. Brush off the off handed remark like it’s nothing, but Sully’s frown doesn’t fade. He studies me like he knows how scared I am of the future. Like he understands that I can barely breathe when I think of a future without him in it. “Sweetheart,” his voice is a whisper as he reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve got all of us. No matter what happens between you and me, we’re family.”
My heart free-falls in my chest. His tone is stern, but it’s sincere, his words the honest truth. And they’re exactly what I needed to hear.
Chapter 19
Sully
Across the massive dining table, Brian stares vacantly, the melancholy expression out of place, especially because it’s Christmas Eve.
“You good?”
He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. The colored lights from the tree make his face look blue, which seems to fit his mood. “I don’t know. Just feels weird.”
“What?” I need clarification. He could be talking about the enormous tree or the massive cat that’s practically on his lap or the smell of whatever Cal burned that’s still lingering in the air.
“Dad moved up to Boston with Dylan, and with everything going on, I couldn’t make the trip up. It’s weird, not being with my family on Christmas.”
Six months ago, Frank Machon relocated so he could be closer to Brian’s sister and her kids. And I’m a jackass for not even considering that Brian might be lonely.
I’ve always assumed that Brian knows that, as far as the Murphys are concerned, he’s family. We’ve been friends for twenty years, and my dad hired him straight out of law school. There’s no way he’ll ever shake us.
“You’ve got us,” I remind him, putting my thoughts into words. If I learned anything from my problems with Sloane, it’s that I have to tell people how I feel, not just assume they know.
He purses his lips, and for a second, I think he’ll argue. Instead, he nods once. “I know. But now that you and Cal have your own families…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure I belong.”
“Belong where?” Cal asks from behind me.
Brian looks at Cal, his eyes widening.
Oh bullocks. What has my idiot of a brother done now? With a grunt, I turn and assess him. Immediately, a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh leaves my lips.
“Isn’t it great?” Cal twists, shaking his arse, flaunting his ridiculous pajamas. They’re a god-awful green color and looks similar to what one of Santa’s elves would wear. The bottoms even have an arse flap.
And his name.
Daddy Cal.
I shake my head. God only knows whether he chose the name because of his relationship with his son or if that’s a nickname courtesy of Lo.
“It even has a hat.” Cal adjusts the pointed stocking cap on his head, jingling the white ball on the tip.
Brian snorts, and I can’t help but laugh.
Bloody hell, my brother looks ridiculous.
“They’re perfect, Uncle Cal.” T.J. barrels into the living room, dragging his cousin behind him.
The sight of the boys in matching pajamas—both with their names stamped on their own arse flaps—makes it hard not to smile.
T.J. bounces up and down beside my brother.
“Aren’t these so cool, Dad?”
I nod. My little lad looks adorable in anything. Even outlandish pajama sets.
He beams up at Cal, his hands clasped in front of him. “See? I told you he’d wear them too.”
My lungs seize up. What now?
Cal grins, his chest puffed out. “Uncle Brian, too, I hope. We’re a family, so it’s not Christmas unless we’re wearing matching pj’s.”
Murphy, who looks slightly less enthusiastic, steps up and sets two clear packages on the table. “Apparently, we all have to be elves. Lo and Aunt Sloane are changing into theirs too.”
In almost any other situation, I’d flat-out refuse to take part in my brother’s nonsense. But it’s Christmas. I want it to be perfect for both T.J. and Sloane. If T. J. wants us to wear matching pajamas, then I’m in.
“We’ll put them on,” I assure my son.
“You know what would be fun?” T. J.’s eyes dance in a way that concerns me. Like there’s a good chance he’s about to scale the side of the building like Spider-Man. Again.
“What? I need to know so we can have all the fun.” Cal claps a little too loudly. Since Murphy showed up unexpectedly a few months ago, it’s been my brother’s mission to make sure his son is happy. And having the best Christmas is important. I understand his obsession more than I ever thought I could.
“It’s fun that Santa will come,” Murphy assures his dad.
Cal’s expression darkens. Last week, when Murphy told us that Santa always skips his house, I thought my brother was going to book a flight to LA so he could curse Murphy’s mum out in person. Maybe ring her neck too.
Lo talked him down, and now Cal is focused on ensuring this Christmas is over-the-top enough to make up for the six lackluster years Murphy lived before meeting his father. My brother may irritate the piss out of me most days, but I have nothing but respect for how he handled unexpectedly becoming a father to a six-year-old.
I would not have been as easygoing had I discovered I had a child only when he was left at our office with nothing more than a backpack and a note. My brother never went on the attack, though. He just became the father Murphy needs. And that’s a feat for a reformed man-child. He’s matured decades in the handful of months that Murphy’s been here.
“I think it would be fun if Murphy and I could have a sleepover in his room,” T.J. announces. “Right, Murphy?”
Murphy eyes his dad. “If it’s okay…”
“Anything you want,” my brother promises.
“Yes!” T.J. pumps a fist and bounces closer to his cousin. Then he whisper-shouts, “We can stay up and catch Santa together.”
“What?” Cal’s spine goes ramrod straight.
I chuckle. T.J.’s tried to catch Santa for the last two years, but there’s no way he won’t pass out before midnight. “You two go brush your teeth. Then we’ll read The Night Before Christmas and get cookies out.”
“And everyone gets to open one present,” T.J. reminds us, as if we could possibly have forgotten that. All day he’s been talking about whose present he’ll open.
“I still think you should open mine.” Cal rocks back on his heels, smirking.
“Or…” T.J. drags the word out. “Maybe we should open one from each person.” He tilts his head and breaks into his most winning smile. The little bugger never quits. We’ve shot down the suggestion three times already today.
“T.J.,” I warn.
He giggles. “Okay. Only one present tonight.”
I point to the hall. “Teeth.”
With a nod, he turns to his cousin. “Let’s go. We can make a big bed out of blankets on your floor.” He darts toward Murphy’s room with Murphy a few steps behind him. Once the boys disappear, I stand up.
“They can’t catch Santa.” Cal’s panicked comment is directed at me.
I chuckle. “Don’t worry. They’ll be asleep in an hour. Come on.” I pick up both sets of pajamas off the table and toss one to Brian.
He swipes the bag out of the air and stands, knocking the cat’s head off his legs. The cat lets out a how dare you? hiss in response.
“Chill.” Brian frowns at the giant feline.
With a twitch of his nose, he leaps onto the table.
“Aw, over here, Fuzzy,” Cal coos.
Nose in the air, the cat ignores him, instead gracefully jumping to the floor and padding toward Brian’s bedroom.
“Dammit.” Brian glowers as Fuzzy disappears through the open doorway.
“Don’t worry, he’ll come back for the Christmas treats I got him.” Cal rushes to the tree and picks up a bag adorned with a kitten in a full Santa suit. “We’ll do presents once you wankers have changed.”
Brian groans. “You really expect me to wear this?”
“The whole family needs to match,” I say. “And that includes you.”
Cal nods, fiddling with the gift bag. “Yes, and we elves have a lot of work to do after the kids go to bed. We have to put the bikes together and hang the stockings and wrap the rest of the gifts.”
Brian shakes his head. “Sounds like Christmas at Dylan’s.”
“Exactly.” I skirt around him. “This is what Christmas with family looks like, and we’re family,” I remind him.
I knock on my closed bedroom door, and when Sloane says, “Come in,” I twist the knob and duck inside.
The view before me stops me in my tracks.
“Do not laugh at me,” she warns, running her hands down her sides to smooth out the red shirt. The fitted pajamas give me the perfect view of the small bump on my wife’s lower stomach. The knowledge that our child is growing safely inside her makes my chest swell.
“I know I look ridiculous.”
“No, sweetheart.” I take a tentative step forward. “You could never look ridiculous. You look radiant.”
Fighting the urge to reach out to her, I clench my hands at my sides.
As if she noticed the movement, she shuffles closer and gently grasps my wrist. Then, with her eyes locked on mine, she places my palm against her lower stomach.
Her warmth soaks into me, waking up every dormant part of me. I haven’t felt this alive in months. Maybe years. Emotion welling up inside me, I lower my focus to where we’re touching.
“You can’t feel anything yet.” Her voice is low, raspy.
Nodding, I swallow down the lump in my throat. That’ll come later. Right now, touching her, feeling the swell that is our baby, is enough.
She wets her lips, searching my face, the look in her eyes one I haven’t seen in months. It’s pure desire. She looks like she wants me to kiss her. Hell, she looks like she needs it.
A weight I’ve been carrying for way too long lifts, making it easier to breathe. My wife still wants me.
I angle in a fraction, and she tilts her chin up and inches closer to me. My pulse kicks up, thumping in my ears. Six inches. That’s all the space left between us. Her lips part, her breath warm on my face. The need to kiss her, to once again feel her mouth against mine, pounds through me.
