Chapter 5
five
. . .
Amelia
Jason McKittrick is my neighbor. The captain of the team I work for saw me naked, watched me get myself off, touched himself while I put on a show for him.
Fuck. What a way to start a new job.
When I get home from the bar, Tyler and Brandon are eating dinner.
I’d texted them not to wait for me, and Robby and I ended up getting some appetizers, but watching them dive into a Katsu curry makes my stomach growl.
The air is fragrant with the familiar perfume of spices.
It reminds me of home, of the two years we were stationed in Okinawa when I was in elementary school.
“We saved you a plate,” Brandon says, kicking out a chair.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I mutter as I drop my lunchbox off on the kitchen counter and fall into the empty chair.
“Wanted to,” my brother-in-law says. “How was work?”
“Fine.”
“Robby didn’t give you any issues?” Tyler asks.
“Nah, he took me out for a drink after. It’s nice to have a friendly face around.” Spooning the curry on my plate, I meet my brother-in-law’s eyes. “It isn’t weird for you? Me talking about him?”
Brandon shakes his head. “I know Ty has a past. I also know he’s committed to me and our family. Would it be strange if Rob suddenly hung around? Maybe. But I would never ask you to give up on a friendship, especially now.”
Now that I have nobody.
“Thanks, Brando.”
His lips tip up and he pushes the bowl of rice toward me. “You look hungry.”
In other words, he’s done talking about this.
The baby squawks, and I set down my fork before crossing the room to the bassinet.
“Are you feeling left out, baby girl?” I coo as I lift my niece into my arms. She squirms in my hold, her mouth puckering.
“I’ll grab a bottle,” Tyler says, standing from the table.
When my brother and his husband announced they were thinking about adopting, I asked if they considered surrogacy. They had. But the waiting lists, and finding a donor egg… It was all too much, especially with Brando was about to leave for spring training.
For reasons I still don’t fully understand, I volunteered. I donated my eggs to them, fertilized in a lab with Brandon’s sperm, and carried my niece, giving birth to her seven weeks ago.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my brother. Giving him a baby, something he couldn’t give his husband? Yeah, I volunteered in a heartbeat, and when they’re ready for another kid in a few years, I’ll do it again.
It was a hell of a battle to get a doctor to agree to the surrogacy.
Most of the time, they will only allow women who’ve carried their own children to term to do it.
But with an extensive psychological evaluation, plus my insistence that I don’t want any kids of my own, we finally found a doctor to to go along with the plan.
Also, I get to stay close to the baby I carried for nine months, the baby I knew as well as my own heartbeat.This is the closest I’ll come to being a mother. Most days, I’m perfectly content with that.
It’s hard to have kids with the career I chose.
As long as I work in professional sports, I’ll travel for eight months of the year, if not more.
If I go the clinic route, I’d have more stability, but I wouldn’t work the kinds of cases that most interest me.
I’m consciously making the decision to put my career first, and I’m genuinely happy with that choice.
It’s all hypothetical, anyway. I’m not anywhere close to settling down. My career is just getting started; I’m not about to hamstring myself this early on.
Even if… Bitterly, I glare at the apartment across from ours. The lights are on in McKittrick’s apartment, but he’s nowhere to be found.
I don’t know what happened to him after he left the bar. In the midst of our conversation, he turned around and left. Just like that.
Taking the bottle from Tyler, I feed my niece, enjoying the simple pleasure of caring for her needs. There isn’t much I can offer her. I don’t know the first thing about being a mother or an aunt. I didn’t have either growing up.
What I can do is love her, teach her right from wrong, support her unconditionally, and give her a safe space when her dads drive her up the wall.
All the things I wanted as a kid and never had.
It’s not my dad’s fault; he meant well. He was just… limited. Stunted. I see him a few times a year, but we aren’t close. Not like Ty and I are.
Trauma-bonded. That’s what my last therapist called it. Tyler and I are in sync on a deeper level than most siblings. Nobody else knows what we went through. Nobody else can really comprehend it.
We’ve always lived together. He’s only a year older than me, so he took a gap year, and we went to the University of Illinois together.
When I was accepted into my DPT program in Austin, he came with me.
One afternoon, he stopped by the clinic where I was interning, and he met Brando, a college baseball player who was on my table.
Their whirlwind romance was the stuff of storybooks.
They’ve been together four years next month. Married for two and a half. When Brandon signed with Boston, they moved here, and I went to Colorado for a fresh start with my shiny, new Doctor of Physical Therapy degree.
It didn’t last long. As soon as my second full season ended, the Dragons essentially told me not to come back after my maternity leave was over, and I moved to Boston to be with my brothers. No regrets.
Brandon tried to get me a gig with the Bulldogs, but they were all set with their staff.
I was planning to start a job search after I recovered from the birth, so when Robby called me with the Grizzlies’ job opening, I jumped at the chance.
After interning with the Austin Aces, I knew I wanted to work with athletes, and hockey players in particular.
After Ainsley finishes her bottle, Brandon takes his daughter and burps her, then settles her in the carrier and straps her to his chest. I finish eating my dinner, Tyler keeping me company.
He bumps my foot with his under the table. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Hm?”
“Your first day. It was okay?”
“Up until…” With a sigh, I shake my head.
“What?”
“I don’t want to get into it. What did you do today?”
“Meels, tell me.” Tyler pokes my side. “Did something happen?”
“Turns out the team captain is our neighbor.” I jerk my head toward the brightly lit window facing ours. There’s still no sign of McKittrick. “He thought you were my husband.”
“Gross.” My brother’s face scrunches with disgust. “Marrying a woman. Blegh.”
Brandon laughs. “So, it’s gross that she’s a woman, not that she’s your sister?”
Now, both Tyler and I gag.
“Don’t be nasty,” he chides his husband.
Ainsley squawks as if in agreement, and the three of us laugh.
Ty and I work together to put away the leftovers and clean the kitchen, and then the three of them settle in to watch TV.
“Do you want me to take her?” I offer, silently hoping they say no.
Brandon grins. “You’ve already got her tonight. We’re good for now.”
We take the night shift in turns. The guys have two nights each a week to my one, and on my turn, they usually go out for a date and grown-up alone time. It helps fight off the newborn exhaustion. Everyone should have a three person co-parenting situation like ours.
Eventually, I’ll have to move out and move on with my life. I can’t live in Tyler’s apartment forever. Who knows where Brandon will get traded, and if I’ll hold down this job any better than the last one.
Besides, I signed a legal document giving up all rights to Ainsley. She belongs to Ty and Brandon. I would never try to take their daughter away from her rightful fathers.
It’s only the postpartum hormones making me hyperfixate on everything wrong or scary in my life. The doctors warned me it could take a while for everything to settle, especially living here with the three of them. They’re a family unit, and I’m outside of that.
For now, I have some downtime, so I draw a bubble bath and find a good book on my Kindle.
A nice soak in the giant dub is exactly what I need to set myself back to rights.
With the help of a few candles and my favorite hot cocoa soap, I feel almost like myself again.
My hair is piled in a messy bun on the top of my head, and I applied a clay mask to my face.
I can do this. I can do anything I set my mind to.
When the water runs cool, I drain the tub and get out. Wrapping a towel around my body, I plod back to my room in my robe and bunny slippers. I start to drop the towel when my eyes flicker to the open curtains.
There’s a man in the window, and he’s staring right at me.
McKittrick.
He doesn’t look away, doesn’t concede defeat.
I drop the towel.