Chapter 200
Seven hours later, I’m all exhausted and sweaty, leaning up against the headboard of the bed and reaching for my little baby boy as the midwife wraps him up and leans down to place him in my arms.
“Seven hours from start to finish,” she says, shaking her head at me and then up at Frankie, who stands at my side. “Honestly, ‘Ambi, you should have ten children – it is like breathing for you.”
I laugh a little, glancing up at her before returning my eyes to the precious little baby wrapped up in my arms. “She’ll have to try to convince me of that on another day, won’t she baby?” I coo to him, my voice sing-song even as he wrinkles his little face in disdain. “Because it did not feel as easy as breathing when I was pushing you out, did it!? No baby! It hurt like hell!”
Frankie laughs, walking the midwife to the door and getting a few final notes and instructions as I hold my little guy close to my heart, marveling at him, just…completely shocked and delighted and in love that he’s here.
When my sweetheart comes back and sits next to me on the bed, I look up into his face and beam to see that all of my emotions are written there on his face as well – because he feels precisely the same.
“You did so beautifully, Bambs,” Frankie says, wrapping a warm arm around my shoulder and leaning close to me, peering down at the baby. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, babe,” I say on a happy sigh, giving him a soft kiss before looking down at the baby. We’re both silent for a moment, watching him fuss a little, getting used to his new life in this new world. “He’s really cute, isn’t he?” I laugh a little even as I whisper the words.
“He’s gorgeous.” Frankie replies, his own voice soft with awe.
“You want to hold him?” I ask, turning a bit in the bed and offering the baby.
“Um,” Frankie says, going a bit still and looking wide-eyed between me and the bundle in my arms. “Maybe you should…”
“Frank!” I say, laughing and holding out the baby with more insistence. “You have to get used to holding him – don’t be such a chicken!”
“He’s just so small, Iris – he’s like, tiny – I thought he’d be bigger, less fragile.”
“Oh, he’s not fragile,” I say, holding him out further. “Plus, he wants his dad.”
Frankie melts a bit at this, glancing up into my eyes, his own a little misty, before he reaches for our son. Very carefully, I pass the baby into Frankie’s arms, my heart filling with happiness as I lean against Frankie’s side, looking between him and the baby.
“Wow,” Frankie says, marveling at the child. “Wow…he’s like, a whole person. He’s just here now.”
“Yeah,” I say, reaching out and stroking my finger over the baby’s tiny fist. “He’s here and he’s perfect.” We’re both silent for a moment before I cock my head to the side. “What are we going to name him?”
“We’ve been over this, Bambi,” Frankie murmurs, flicking his eyes up to me. “His name is Franquette.”
I burst out laughing at this, wrinkling my nose at Frank even as I lean more fully against him. “Oh, shut up. For real, what should we name him?”
We’re both silent for a long moment, looking down at the baby, thinking. And as I stare at the baby I realize with a bit of wonder that…
“God, he looks just like him,” Frankie breathes, I think as awed as me.
I start a bit and look up into Frankie’s face. Frankie grimaces a little and then gives a shrug.
“Sorry,” Frankie whispers. “If I…wasn’t supposed to say it. I just…see a lot of Christian in his face.”
“I know,” I say, nodding. “I was just thinking it. Are you…okay with that?”
“I mean, Christian is a good-looking dude,” Frankie murmurs, smirking and looking down at our son. I laugh a little, still anxious. “Franquette kind of hit the genetic lottery on that one.”
“Seriously, Frank,” I say, my voice insistent, not letting him make a joke to get out of it. “Are you…how are you feeling?”
“I feel,” he says, smiling a little and raising his eyes to me. “Proud of my son, and desperately in love with you.” He lifts a hand then, cupping the back of my head as he leans forward and presses a long kiss to my mouth before pulling away and looking again down at the baby. “And…grateful, I guess, that we have a piece of Christin in our lives. He was my best friend for a very long time. And you…”
Frankie looks up at me, I think a little anxious about how I’d finish that sentence.
But I just nod, seeing his point, holding his gaze. “Grateful too, to have a piece of Christian, who has been so important to me – and who I loved so much.”
Frankie takes a moment, swallowing hard as he studies my face. “Loved?”
“Loved,” I repeat, shifting closer to him. “Part of my past. I love you, Frankie,” I say quietly, leaning close and pressing a kiss to his mouth. “You are everything in the world to me. My partner, my best friend, father to my son, the man who gave me the lift of my dreams.” I sigh, snuggling close. “You’re everything.”
“You’re everything, Bambs,” Frankie murmurs, resting his cheek against my hair. We take a moment then, love and assurance passing between us, I think both of us realizing the very real truth of our situation.
That despite our past, and despite where this baby came from…he’s our son, and the future is ours as a family. And nothing at all is going to change that.
“So…” Frankie says quietly, and I turn my head to see him peering down at our son. “Is that his name, then? Should we…should we call him Christian?”
I consider it for a long moment, wondering if it’s right. But it doesn’t take me long to understand what that would mean.
“No,” I say quietly, shaking my head. “I want…Frankie, I don’t want any ties to that life. For his safety as well as for our entire future, I just want to…leave it all in the past. Let’s give him a new name, for our life here.”
“Okay,” Frankie says, his voice deep and thoughtful in a way that it rarely is, making me smile. “So…got anything in mind?”
“What about Leo?” I ask, smiling and leaning forward to pull the baby’s little blanket from his face, watching as his eyes drift shut as he begins to fall asleep. “Little baby Leo. Our brave little lion.”
Frankie’s face slowly spreads into a smile. “It’s perfect. My son named Leo.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Leo’s head, where dark hair already grows. “Welcome to the world, Leo. You’re already very loved.”
My heart swells and my eyes fill with tears as I lean forward too, welcoming our baby to the world.
“You’re going to have the best life,” I whisper to him, meaning every word of it. “Rich and full of love.”
“And,” Frankie whispers, likewise leaning close. “I’m going to teach you how to be a really good shot with a gun.”
“No, he’s not,” I murmur to the baby, giving his dad a little glare.
“We’ll do it when she’s not around,” Frankie whispers, sending me a little grin that makes me laugh and roll my eyes.
“All right,” I sigh, reaching for my baby. “You teach him to shoot, I’ll teach him to bake. And we’ll see who’s the favorite.”
“You’re on,” Frankie replies, handing the baby over to my arms. And I sigh, absolutely sure that my heart is going to burst from happiness as I hold my baby close to my chest and tilt my face up to Frankie for a kiss, which he willingly – and so sweetly – gives.
Five Years Later
“Leo!” I call, hurrying over to the door with my son’s water bottle in my hand. He spins to me, surprise on his handsome little face, his grey-blue eyes wide. Frankie – a little ahead of Leo on the path – peers back towards me as well. “You forgot this!”
“Oh!” Leo says, breaking into a grin and rushing back to me, his rifle bouncing on his back. “Sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry, babes,” I murmur, handing my son his water bottle and then snatching him close to me for another hug. “Just stay hydrated and make sure your dad has some too.”
“Come on, Leo!” Frankie calls. “Let’s get this target practice in before the sun sets!”
“Coming!” Leo calls, giving me a squeeze before he dashes after his favorite parent, his water bottle held high. Frankie sends me a wink and blows me a kiss.
“Love you!” Frankie calls, waving to me over his shoulder.
“Yeah, mom, love you!” Leo adds, looking so like Frankie in the way that he moves and waves that it makes my heart tighten with joy. Because the two of them – god, but they do hold my heart in their hands.
Well. Two-thirds of my heart.
“Mama!” The little voice rings out behind me and I smile as I turn towards the tiny girl with big brown eyes and a perfect, dimpled smile.
“What do you need, Daisy baby?” I ask, leaning down with my hands on my knees so that my face is on her level.
“More flour!” she shouts, smacking the table with her little palms and laughing as puffs of flour fly up into the air. “I will make daddy and Leo a cake for dinner.”
“This is an excellent plan,” I say, moving to the counter and picking up the bag of flour, carrying it over to the table, spilling a little more out for her to play with.
“Thank youuu,” my little girl says, ignoring me as she concentrates. I gently pull her long blonde hair back from her face, settling it back over her shoulders, wanting to touch it as much as I want to keep her neat and clean.
“You’re welcome,” I sigh, perfectly content, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before looking over towards the sink where there are some dishes to be done and also some snap peas that need to be prepared for dinner. If I get started now, then I can be finished by the time the boys come back.
I smile, content at this thought, and turn towards the sink. “Hey Daisy!” I call over my shoulder. “Sing me a song to keep me company while I work.”
My three-year-old daughter complies, beginning to sing a long nonsense song that she makes up as she goes along – and I grin, because listening to her, I couldn’t be any happier. No, life can’t get any better than this – not at all.
I pay attention to my daily tasks as I listen to her, thinking about dinner and my family, about what we have to do tomorrow – shopping, I think. School supplies for Leo, who starts next week for the first time.
As I lose myself in my thoughts, my hands working busily at the suds, an elegant black car starts unnoticed up the drive. And as Daisy sings her song about flowers and bees and cake, and my hands scrub, all covered in soap, the car pulls to the front of the villa.
And as I sigh, happy and busy, a tall figure steps out of the car and starts up towards our house. Daisy continues to sing for a few more minutes, and I lose myself to the tune.
“Love you, Mama!” Daisy sings, as she always does, at the end of her song.
“Love you too, Baby!” I call to her, my heart ringing with joy.
“Hi!” Daisy calls to someone I don’t see. “My name’s Daisy. Who are you?”
I turn towards her and the door, frowning, wondering who on earth could be there.
THE END
