3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Weston
M y phone vibrates with a doorbell notification as I’m flicking the switch on the noise machine in Carter’s room. The low rumble of thunder fills the small space, and I bend to plant a kiss on his forehead before grabbing the baby monitor and softly closing the door to his room. I pause for a moment to listen for a cry, just in case, and then head to the front of the house.
“Nice diggs, dickhead,” Morgan greets me the second I open the door, breezing past without waiting for a response.
If we were at work, I’d toss an insult back at her. But even I know better than to do that in front of her husband. Not without permission, anyway.
“Would it be appropriate to call your wife a little shit?” I chuckle, stepping aside to let Walker in.
“Absolutely.” He smiles as he follows her. “I do it all of the time.”
I close the front door and thank him for coming over.
My parents typically help with Carter when something comes up with work, but that’s usually scheduled far in advance. They have a packed social calendar, so I didn’t want to bother them with a last-minute request when Parker agreed to grab drinks tonight. Instead, I asked the first person I could think of—Walker.
Even though Walker was a year behind me in residency and usually kept to himself, we always got along professionally. When I came back to work full time in May, he was the only person who was able to tell that I was drowning and in desperate need of a friend. And ever since, that’s what he’s trulybecome—my only true friend.
Hopefully after tonight, I’ll be able to add Parker back to the list, but we’ll see how things go. I’m cautiously optimistic.
“Got any snacks in this mansion? I forgot my clusters,” Morgan calls as we make our way down the hall. We follow the sound of her overzealous voice to the kitchen and find her throwing open several of the black cabinets like she owns the place.
Walker stops beside me and gives her a silent look that would scare the shit out of me if I didn’t know him better. Sure, he might look scary with his sleeve of tattoos and six-six frame, but we’ve all learned that he’s really just a big softie—he has to be in order to put up with her.
“What?” She glances at him and shrugs, completely unphased by his intimidation tactics.
“You’re yelling,” he replies calmly.
Her green eyes widen as her hand shoots over her mouth like she just remembered why they came over. “Oh shit. Sorry.”
Morgan is around a foot shorter than Walker on a good day, but she walks around the ER like she owns the place. If there’s one nurse that I don’t want on my bad side, it’s her. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy poking fun at her a little bit—it’s too easy.
“It’s fine. He’s out cold.” I laugh and place the baby monitor on the quartz island countertop before walking over to the pantry and opening it for her. “Not sure what clusters are, but I’ve got a ton of pint-sized food in here. Perfect for you, actually.”
Morgan ignores my jab and picks up a jar of sweet potato puffs. “Jokes on you because these look delicious.”
She’s not wrong. I’ll sometimes toss a few back when Carter isn’t looking because they’re oddly satisfying.
A few months ago, the pediatrician recommended we start adding solid foods to his diet—things like bananas, purees, that type of thing. It was a struggle at first because the dude loves his bottle, and I had no idea what to buy. I ended up ordering his food from a company that delivers everything to my door.
Right now, Carter is obsessed with these off-brand Cheetos that are supposed to help with his fine motor development. It’s probably some big marketing ploy, but I’m happy to shell out the money if he likes them. Plus, it makes my life a hell of a lot easier.
“I married a toddler,” Walker comments, watching his wife affectionately as she rummages through my kitchen. “Morg—”
She doesn’t hear him because her head is shoved deep inside my cabinet.
“Morg,” he repeats, more sternly this time.
Morgan lets out a dramatic grunt as she stretches to her toes.
“Got it.” She grins triumphantly, landing on her heels and tossing a box at Walker. “Now be a good boy and make me some dino oatmeal.”
His dark eyes flicker in warning as they narrow on her. “Want to try that again?”
“Hmmm,” she hums, holding his gaze. “I don’t think so. Good boys make their wives food. And you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
He steps forward, his tone lowering. “One more time, little devil. I dare you.”
“Awww,” she coos, her eyes shining with delight. “My Walkie-boo-boo is being bad. Sounds like he needs to be sent to time out.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Morgan winks at me and sprints around the island to put distance between the two of them. She leans forward and places her elbows on the counter, dropping her chin into her hands triumphantly.
I sigh and exchange a glance with Walker. He clenches his jaw silently, but seems to share the same sentiment—his wife is exhausting.
“So, like, what happens if he wakes up?” Morgan asks, staring at the baby monitor curiously.
“Let him try and soothe himself back to sleep for a while. If that doesn’t work, offer him his pacifier.”
Morgan blinks like she doesn’t understand. “We don’t need to give him a bottle, or something? Wait, do they still drink bottles at this age? Does he have teeth yet?”
I can’t help but chuckle, though I probably shouldn’t. It’s not like I knew any of this before becoming a parent either. Sure, we learned the basics in medical school, and I did a short pediatric rotation during residency, but I operate exclusively on adults now. The last time I gave serious thought to childhood development was almost a decade ago.
“How you graduated from nursing school is beyond me,” Walker mutters as he shakes his head, unable to hide the affection laced in his tone. He turns to me. “I’ll handle it, don’t worry. And tell Parker that we need to grab drinks soon. It’s been a while since I saw him. Dude works all of the time.”
I nod as I grab my keys from the counter, not sure how to respond because I’m not confident that I’ll get to tell Parker anything at all. I know he said he would come, but saying something and doing it are two completely different things.
“Call me if he wakes up and you can’t get him back down,” I add, feeling a slight pang of uncertainty even though Carter conked out as soon as his head hit the mattress.
This is the first time I’m leaving my son with anyone besides my parents, so I’m on edge, even though I know I shouldn’t be. Carter did great with Walker when we grabbed dinner a few weeks ago, so if he wakes up, he’s in good hands.
I don’t know why I always imagined that having a child would bring my world to a screeching halt. Of course, it was a massive adjustment in the beginning, but I’ve finally realized that I don’t have to hit pause on my life just because I’m a parent—I can do a few things for me now too.
Walker gives me an easy grin and claps me on the back. “I’m sure it will be fine. We’re buddies.”
Morgan shoots her husband a pointed look as we walk toward the front door. “I’m still pissed you didn’t tell me Wessy had a baby, by the way. What happened to spousal privilege?”
“It never came up.” Walker shrugs. He pulls his wife into his arms and plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Plus, his business is none of your business, little devil. And I didn’t want you running that big mouth to the whole hospital.”
I give Walker an appreciative glance.
It’s not that I’ve been keeping my son a secret. The department chair knows. My family knows. But I also haven’t been running around advertising it either—I’ve simply been focused on keeping my head down, trying to survive.
Morgan cranes her neck back and rolls her eyes. “Clearly, my mouth isn’t big enough, considering that ring gag almost broke my jaw.”
“Uh . . . I should be back in a few hours,” I say, feeling like I’m interrupting as Walker bends down to whisper something in his wife’s ear that makes her cheeks flush bright red.
I shift on my feet, unsure of where to look because it’s entirely possible that they’re less than thirty seconds away from taking all of their clothes off in my foyer.
Even though I’m beginning to wonder if asking Morgan and Walker to babysit was a bad idea, watching the two of them together fills me with a sense of longing that settles deep in my chest.
I’ve never had the desire for a long-term partner, probably because it was never something I was ready for. My life was always about me—my dreams, my aspirations, my enjoyment. But the moment I became a father, everything changed. What I wanted wasn’t important anymore because my son came first.
Now that I’ve finally settled into that role, I’m beginning to wonder what’s next for me. If I’m capable of the same passion that my friends have, or if it only exists for a rare few.
“His diaper stuff is in his room if he needs to be changed. And if he’s really fussy, he likes the Baby Beluga song. You can probably find it on Spotify if you need to . . .” I trail off, positive that they’re not listening to any of the words coming out of my mouth at this point.
Walker straightens and smiles warmly as he places his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Take your time, man. Seriously. We’ve got it covered. And if you think of anything else, just shoot me a text.”
“Great. Thanks again,” I reply, pausing as I reach for the door. “Oh . . . and if you’re going to have a quickie, just make sure you keep it down.”
I shoot them a wink and Morgan giggles, wiggling her body against her husband.
Walker’s voice drops low, still playful but full of warning.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against her ear, “what I have planned for her isn’t quick.”