Chapter 15 The Dad Who Stepped Up Cara #2
“Truthfully? I needed you too.” Emmett takes my face in his hands, pushing my hair off my damp face. “I’m wherever you are, Cara. Always.” He captures my mouth with his, swallowing my fear, drowning it with his love.
Olivia clears her throat. “So, hey…”
“Yeah, get outta here.” Emmett doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Thanks for being my wife’s surrogate husband.” He cocks his head. “And stepdad to our em-babies?”
Olivia grins, hitting us with two finger guns. “Hey, I’m not the stepdad. I’m the dad who stepped up.” She stops herself, which is definitely for the best, grimacing as she looks at her ridiculous hands. “Oh my God,” she mutters. “I’m turning into Carter. Okay, I’m leaving. Bye.”
“Oh, hey, Ollie?” Emmett passes her his credit card. “Can you—”
“Do damage control because you just told a nurse to shut up? Yes, I’ll order her a gift basket.”
“Thanks. I feel horrible. Something that says I’m deeply sorry but also Don’t get in between me and my wife.”
“So, not all that horrible?”
He grins. “Nah.”
Dr. Brenling snaps his gloves into place as the door shuts behind Olivia. “Can we get started now, or do you anticipate more visitors?”
I press my smile to Emmett’s, granting myself a moment to bask in the hope that courses through me, the confidence that settles my bones.
Emmett places his hand over my stomach. “Let’s make a baby, baby.”
AN HOUR LATER, AS WE RIDE across the bridge toward home in North Vancouver, Emmett’s hand on my thigh and an embryo we made with a little bit of science searching for a perfect place to implant itself in my uterus, I’m thankful for the fight.
Thankful for the hard days and the impossible fears.
Because if it weren’t for that, if I’d let the desire to be numb win, I wouldn’t be able to feel the love swelling in my heart from being loved so wholly by a man who would fly thousands of miles just to be with me.
From a friend who clears her schedule to make sure I’m not alone on the days I’m afraid to be.
I wouldn’t be able to truly appreciate the overwhelming gratitude that threatens to knock me off my feet when we pull up to our house and see our driveway overflowing with cars.
When we open our front door to a mountain of shoes and a chorus of voices floating down our hall.
When we step into our living room and see it filled with a family who chooses us day in and day out, a family who—at least half of them—are supposed to be on a flight to Toronto right now, not here in our home.
Adam stands in front of the TV, scrolling through a list of family-friendly movies while yelling to Carter that karaoke isn’t as relaxing as he thinks it is, nor is it the answer to all of life’s problems. Jaxon and Garrett are covering the living room floor with pillows and blankets and arguing about twinkly light placement.
The kids are crowded around the kitchen table, fingers in a big bowl, chocolate all over their faces, and the girls are bent over something at the island. Carter is…
“Why is Carter using my oven?” I whisper to Emmett.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, tightening his grip on my hand. “We have accidental fire on the insurance, right?”
A timer beeps, and Carter spins around, spatula in hand, smear of chocolate on his cheek, cocoa powder all over my favorite apron. THIS GIRL LOVES MEAT it says, with a picture of a woman eating a hot dog in the center of it, surrounded by a plethora of flying sausages. “Dessert is ready!”
Olivia glances up from whatever it is the girls are working on. “Carter, did you lick the spatula?”
“No,” he definitely lies. “You told me not to lick the spatula. Why would I lick the spatula?”
Lily points to his face. “You have chocolate on your face, Uncle Carter.”
He slaps his hand over the evidence, his chuckle high-pitched and nervous. “What the—I don’t know how that got there.”
Olivia rolls her eyes, and on their way back down to earth, they land on me and Emmett. “Hey! You’re back!”
“Just in time!” Carter shoves a piping-hot pan under my nose, grinning. “Carter’s famous slutty brownies. Hot, fresh, and orgasmic. We’ve got a base layer of gooey cookie dough, followed by a layer of Oreos—double-stuffed, because duh—topped off with brownie batter.”
Adam grabs two giant bowls of popcorn off the counter, gesturing at the TV. “We’re watching Tangled, because Lily said Rapunzel is super strong and super beautiful, like Auntie Cara.”
Garrett throws himself over the back of the couch, cheek propped in his hand. “I made a pillow fort.”
Jaxon shoves him to the ground, taking his place. “I made it better.”
Olivia, Jennie, Rosie, and Lennon finally disperse, holding up a huge basket.
“For you.” Jennie bounces on her toes, clapping excitedly as I peer down at all the small gifts. She points out several pairs of thick, fluffy socks. “Cozy socks to keep your feet warm.”
Rosie gestures at an extremely large pineapple. “Pineapple, because the bromelain is anti-inflammatory and increases blood flow, which is thought to help with embryo implantation.”
Lennon holds up a carton of McDonald’s fries. “Supersize fries, because salty foods can help with ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome after fertility treatments.” She holds up a large drink. “And a milkshake, just because.”
I stare down at the basket, filled with all the ridiculous superstitions that live in the fertility treatment world, unwritten rules that thousands of us follow.
Things I had no idea my friends knew about, surrounded by tons of other thoughtful items, like a heating pad covered in pineapples, M&M’s and berry Skittles, a sleep mask that says FUCK OFF, and a mug that says QUEEN OF FUCKING EVERYTHING.
Tears prickle as I pick up a dainty bracelet and run my thumb over the two crystal beads in the center.
“One for each of your embryos,” Olivia murmurs. “A symbol of hope. Of a future you’re fighting so hard for.”
I clutch the bracelet to my chest, Emmett’s hand on my lower back as I try to breathe through this—through the overwhelming, earth-shattering feeling of being so surrounded, so supported, by the people you love.
“Oops. One more thing.” Olivia pulls a small packet of glitter from her pocket, dumping it in her palm before blowing the fine gold specks over my stomach. She smiles. “Baby dust.”
“What is this?” Emmett tears his glossy eyes from my torso, letting them roam the room. “I mean, all of this. The movie, the fort, the brownies… you guys. Aren’t you supposed to be in Toronto?”
Carter shrugs. “Don’t have to be there ’til tomorrow. Rather be here with you guys, so we booked our own tickets after you left last night. Coach understood.”
The kids toddle over, and Emmett scoops Ireland and Connor into his arms.
Lily twines her fingers with mine, chin on my stomach as she grins up at me. “We’re havin’ a mental health day, Auntie Cara. All of us, together.”
My throat squeezes. I blink, letting the tears run free down my cheeks.
I don’t know who’s the first to wrap themselves around us. All I know is that one moment we’re standing here, barely holding it together, and the next, we’re not holding it together at all.
But it’s okay. Because maybe we don’t need to hold it together when we have them holding us up.