10. Insta-Family
CHAPTER 10
Insta-Family
IVY
“Oh, Ivy,” Alistair says, hand on my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, another sob escaping. He turns the water off and dries me tenderly, kissing my forehead. Alistair wraps me in a new dry towel and picks me up in a bridal hold. I lean into his muscled chest, my arms around his neck, warm from the shower and his athletic activity. I’m not crying anymore. He lays me gently on the bed, covers me with the duvet, then kneels beside me. “Are you okay? Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? Next time I’ll go slower.”
It was a lot to take in—everything that had happened—and a lot to process. Too much to process in one day without feeling completely overwhelmed.
The danger and the discovery.
The blood and the baby.
But when Alistair fucks me, it makes everything feel like it’s going to be okay.
“It was a strong release,” I tell him. “I felt it in every part of my body.”
“Okay,” he replies, nodding. Perhaps he felt it, too. It has been an insane forty-eight hours.
Alistair tidies the room and slips into bed with me, his skin still lovely and warm, and spoons me. I can smell the woody fragrance of his designer shower gel. I take a deep lungful. Despite everything, it is the safest I’ve ever felt.
When I wake up, the sun is streaming into the room. Despite a mild headache, I can tell that I’ve had a decent amount of sleep. Alistair’s side of the bed is empty, which surprises me, given his seemingly insatiable appetite. But of course, he’s up—he has an empire to run and enemies to stave off, never mind the recent familial complications. It makes me feel like a veritable sloth. I stretch and jump out of bed, wrap myself in a pretty gown I find in the cupboard, and brush my teeth. The delicious aroma of fresh coffee leads me to the kitchen. I pad in, expecting to greet Brumilde, but instead see Alistair sitting in an armchair, smiling at a gurgling baby Alex, who he is holding on his lap.
“There you are,” I murmur, not wanting to startle them.
They both turn to me and smile, and something weird happens in my heart. It feels like an expansion, and at the same time, a longing. A longing for what?
“Coffee?” I ask, trying not to choke on my feelings.
“Just made a fresh pot,” Alistair replies, gaze returning to the baby. “If you hold Alex for a moment, I’ll pour you some.”
“Er,” I reply.
“Too much?” he asks, then shakes his head. “Of course it’s too much. I’ll just put him in his pen here. It’s a handy contraption. Brumilde keeps ordering baby gadgets and supplies. I don’t know what half of them do.”
“I can pour my own coffee,” I say. “I was offering to pour some for you.”
The baby must have been enjoying his time with Alistair, because he starts whimpering when Alistair lowers him into his playpen.
I must look like a deer in headlights because Alistair comes over and hugs me. “Are you freaking out? It’s a lot. I don’t blame you. Let me pour you that coffee.”
Baby Alexander’s bottom lip is quivering, and his eyes are wide and watery. I can’t stand it. I go over and pick him up. I think he might cry more, not knowing who I am, but he seems relieved to be on my hip. Of course, he must be missing his mum terribly. He needs as much comfort as we can give him. Poor little sausage. I sway him a little and plant a kiss on his forehead. It’s all he needs to relax into me. I stroke his warm back, hoping it will make him feel safe.
“Sweet boy,” I tell him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You’re a natural,” says Alistair, placing my coffee on the counter I’m leaning against.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I tell him.
He looks a bit shocked for a moment, then laughs.
“Surreal, isn’t it?” I say. “Most couples have at least a few months’ warning before they have a baby.”
“Alex is not your responsibility,” replies Alistair. “The last thing I want to do is railroad you into any kind of commitment.”
“I don’t feel railroaded,” I say. “I want to help.”
“We’ll need to have a family meeting to discuss the best way forward. I’m certainly not expecting you to take on any roles you’re not comfortable with.”
“Are you comfortable with it? With being his … guardian?” I ask.
He sighs. “Honestly? My brain is spinning from everything that’s happened. I don’t yet have clarity on what will be best.”
“My brain is also spinning,” I say. “But what about the rest? What is your body saying? What is your heart saying?”
Alistair takes a step closer and wraps me and Alex in his arms. “My heart and body have only one priority, Miss Mickelson.” He kisses me, and the baby leans into me again, placing his small hand on my belly. We stand like that for a while, enjoying the moment, until the baby grows restless. I kiss his forehead again, give him a toy, and put him in his pen. This time he is happy to be put down. He crawls to his pillow and puts his head on it, so I cover him with a blanket.
“Brumilde and I chatted this morning. I suggested we get a full-time nanny or two so that she doesn’t have to add childcare to her duties.”
I laugh. “I’m sure that went down well.”
Alistair smirks. “You know Brumilde. She wouldn’t hear of it. Said she’s absolutely loving taking care of Alex.”
“I can see it in her face,” I say. “When she’s around him. She’s in her element.”
We both look at Alex and see he has fallen asleep.
“She was always so good with us when we were kids.”
I don’t doubt that for a moment. Brumilde still insists on cooking breakfast and making me pancakes.
“Coveniently for me, I think it’ll good for her to have him around. Working here is pretty isolating, and her husband isn’t the most gregarious type. She loves caring for people. But I will hire a nanny to ease the load. Between Brumilde, a nanny, and myself, I think we could manage the childcare. But these are just logistics. What I need to know is if you will be happy with Alex living here. It’s no small commitment, and I don’t like putting pressure on you. There are alternatives available to us.”
I take a sip of coffee, processing my swirling thoughts. “I wasn’t sure about it.”
Two weeks ago I was a single broke yoga instructor living in a shit flat. Now I’ve basically inherited a beautiful insta-family.
“Yes,” agrees Alistair. “As you say, most couples have a little more time to get used to the idea of having a baby. I completely understand if you need a while to decide if he can live here or not.”
“I shouldn’t have that kind of power,” I say.
“Of course you should,” insists Alistair, pressing himself into me. “You are my queen.”
I swallow hard. I need to get the words out, but they seem stuck in my throat.
“I wasn’t sure about it,” I repeat, “but when I walked in this morning and you were sitting there with Alex on your lap, I just … it just felt right?” I shake my head. “It felt right and I wanted it. Wanted it to stay this way. I’d love it if Alex lived here, and I’ll help in any way I can.” Feeling emotional, I blink away the tears.
Alistair’s eyes register surprise, then relief. “Really?”
“Really,” I insist.
Alistair jumps into action, picking me up and depositing me on the kitchen island counter, knocking my coffee over. Neither of us cares. He’s kissing me as if our lives depend on it. He opens my dressing gown and starts nuzzling my boobs.
“Not here,” I say.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, pulling me off the island and into his arms, carrying me the way I love. He heads in the direction of the bedroom.
“Baby monitor,” I say.
He turns around and strides to the playpen. His hands are occupied, so I scoop the monitor off the side table, and we head upstairs.