Chapter 32
National Tater Tot Day
? To The Men Who Love Women After Heartbreak - Kelsea Ballerini
Griffin
I sway back and forth with Jessie in my arms, skin to skin, her tiny fist wrapped partially around my thumb as Angie fills out a pile of paperwork from her hospital bed.
“Does this look right? I’m not sure if I got all of the details correct.”
There’s a spark of something in her expression I can’t quite place. She flips a sheet of paper and points to the section labeled father’s information. There, clear as day, written in permanent ink is my name. My eyes sting, and my throat goes dry. “Yeah. Yeah, it looks perfect.”
Angie smiles, phone in hand, snapping photos of me with my little girl. Mine. Officially.
“You alright there, Daddy?”
I let out a watery chuckle. “Never better, Angel. Never better.”
I feel those three little words creeping into my consciousness again, but I swallow them down.
I don’t want Angie to think my love for her is contingent on having my name on Jessie’s birth certificate.
I love them both in ways I can’t even begin to describe, but I loved Angie long before Jessie stole the other piece of my heart.
Angie’s laughter interrupts my thoughts. “Do you know what day it is?”
My brow furrows. “February second. You just wrote it on the paperwork.”
“No. Not the date. The day.” She giggles again, holding her phone facing me. “It’s National Tater Tot Day.”
I grin. “Fucking perfect. Daddy’s little tater tot.”
A tap at the door draws my attention, and Olivia peers around the corner. “Can we come in?”
“Get in here, Livie. Meet your new niece.” I do the best I can to swaddle her in one of the blue and pink hospital blankets and transfer her into Olivia’s arms.
She immediately lifts the matching hat. “Evie told us she has a lot of hair, but I wasn’t expecting that much.”
“Italian and Greek,” Angie says. “She didn’t stand a chance.”
Our baby girl doesn’t look anything like Tyler, not that I would love her any less if she did. He’ll be out of our lives for good as soon as the paperwork is signed. As far as Jessie is concerned, I’m her daddy and the only man she’ll ever need in her life.
Yeah, I know. Someday she’ll grow up and fall in love with someone who doesn’t deserve her, but hopefully by then, I’ll have done my job in showing her the kind of love and respect she deserves—not only in the way I care for her, but in the way I worship the ground her mother walks on.
“She’s gorgeous,” Olivia says. “And I’m not just saying that.”
I’m already itching to snatch Jessie out of Olivia’s arms and keep her for myself, but I manage to dull the impulse. Will it always be like this? From the moment she was born, I’ve had this incessant need to shelter her in my arms and make sure she’s safe and happy. It’s agonizing.
Olivia transfers the tiny bundle into Wilder’s arms. His palm engulfs the back of her head as he stares down at her.
“Hey, Jessie girl,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. I know then he’s not with us anymore—his mind is somewhere in the past. After a few heartbeats, he glances at my wife, her eyes glistening as something unspoken passes between them. “You did good, Ange.”
She narrows her gaze at him. “You’re not allowed to make me cry, Wilder Hayes.”
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ok, give me back my baby,” I tell him.
Angie laughs. “You’re gonna have to learn how to share her, you know?”
I scoff. “It’ll be a cold day in hell.”
Wilder places Jessie in my arms and clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the club, brother. It’s the best goddamn thing in the world… and Hell on Earth.”
Olivia and Wilder depart a short while later, and soon they’re replaced by Callie and Jaxon.
We entertain a steady stream of visitors over the course of several hours. Jessie seems content to sleep through just about anything, but Angie’s energy waned a long time ago. The last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, and she’s been a rockstar through it all. She’s earned her rest.
I pull out my phone and text everyone we know, thanking them for their well-wishes and requesting privacy for the rest of the day.
Once that’s done, I settle onto the bed beside my wife and daughter, running my fingers through Angie’s hair until she drifts off to sleep with Jessie on her chest, and my entire heart in the palm of her hand.
The next morning, as we’re awaiting the official discharge paperwork, Caroline and Shawn arrive with a huge bouquet of sunflowers.
Shawn sets them in front of the window while Caroline heads straight for Angie, perching herself on the side of the bed, and wrapping her in a hug. “How are you feeling, my darling?”
“I’m a little sore, but good. Are you ready to meet your newest grandbaby?”
Caroline smiles softly. “I would love nothing more.”
I walk around the bed with Jessie in my arms. She’s wearing her ‘heaven sent’ onesie, wrapped in the blanket Caroline knit for her. I lower my arms and let Caroline scoop her up.
“Say hello to Jessica Selena Rossi-Hayes,” Angie says.
Chin quivering, Caroline gently presses her palm against the blanket to get a better look at Jessie’s face. “Hi, sweet Jessie.” With a misty-eyed smile, she brings Angie in for a one-armed hug, pressing their foreheads together. “She’s watching. I know it.”
Caroline stands and transfers the sleeping bundle to Shawn.
“She’s perfect,” he says. “Thank you for honoring my baby girl.”
“There was never another name on the list,” Angie replies. “Nothing else felt right.”
Shawn wipes a tear from Caroline’s cheek and presses a kiss to her forehead, lost in their own world.
Angie reaches for me, her fingers intertwining with mine. I sit on the edge of the bed, offering my silent support, and she takes it without reservation, laying her head on my shoulder.
“We can’t stay,” Caroline says, transferring the sleeping baby from Shawn’s arms to Angie’s. “But let me know when you’re settled at home, and we’ll come by for a visit. I can cook dinner and help out around the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Angie says, trailing her finger along the slope of Jessie’s cheek.
Caroline scoffs, staring pointedly at my wife. “You’re just like her, you know. She said the same thing after Emmy Lou was born. And you can’t stop me either.”
Before Angie can protest, I say, “We’d love to have you, Caroline. Thanks for coming.”
After snapping a few more photos, they say their goodbyes, and we’re alone again.
The discharge nurse arrives not a minute too soon. “Ready to go home, mama?” she asks.
Angie heaves a quiet sigh. “So ready.”
Angelina
I expected to return home to a mess considering how quickly we abandoned the place, but you wouldn’t know anyone had given birth here at all if it weren’t for the handmade ‘Welcome Home Jessie’ banner hanging in the entry, and the fresh bouquet of sunflowers on the kitchen island.
Griffin closes the door behind us and guides me into the living room, settling me on the couch before he removes Jessie from her car seat.
“Mama and Olivia came by,” he says, sinking onto the sofa beside me with our daughter in his arms. “They cleaned up and left some meals in the freezer for us.”
My eyes sting with fresh tears as an unwelcome flood of gratitude washes over me. The doctor warned me that my hormones would be all over the place, but this is ridiculous. My well should have dried up hours ago, but they just keep coming. I swipe impatiently at them, willing them away.
Griffin lifts his arm, beckoning me to him. I settle against his side and peer over at my daughter, curled up in a ball on his chest. She’s eight pounds of pure perfection with a head full of dark hair and the chubbiest cheeks I’ve ever seen on a newborn. I could stare at her all day.
My phone rings with a video call from my parents, and I can’t answer fast enough. We talked briefly after Jessie was born, and they’ve seen photos, of course, but I wish they could be here to meet her. I’m eager to plan their visit soon.
“Lina, my love,” Mom says. “How are you? How’s my granddaughter?”
“We’re both good. Just got home.”
“Good. A package should be arriving for you any minute.”
“A package? What for?”
Mom smiles the familiar smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “You’ll see.”
I tilt the phone, so Griffin and Jessie are in the frame. “Mom, this is Griffin. My husband.”
“Hi, Selena,” he says.
They haven’t officially met yet, an oversight on my part, so when did they get on a first-name basis?
“Hello, Griffin. Would you mind getting the door for me?”
“Not at all.”
“Nobody’s here yet,” I say.
Griffin stands with Jessie in his arms and heads for the entry. Curious, I follow a few steps behind—slowly, since I’m still recovering and the pain meds are starting to wear off.
He grasps the handle and pulls open the front door. I see the suitcases first, then my mom and dad step around the corner, materializing like a mirage in the middle of a desert. My vision blurs, and I throw myself at them, ignoring the pain that radiates from my pelvis at the sudden movement.
When I pull back from the group hug, Mom cradles my face in her palms. She’s tall, like me, and she has several inches on my dad. She kisses my cheeks and passes me over to my father, who does the same.
“Stella mia,” he croaks.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Hi, Daddy.”
I’m a strong, independent woman, but nobody gets me like my dad does. He’s always been there for me. I’m close with my mom, too, but sometimes a girl just needs her dad. I’m lucky to have two incredible parents.
I motion for them to follow me inside, where Griffin is waiting with Jessie. “Selena, Alfonso. It’s nice to finally meet in person.”
Without prompting, he places Jessie in my mom’s arms. Her eyes well with tears as she holds my daughter for the first time. Dad looks on with something like awe.
“She looks just like you did when you were a baby,” Mom says. “The same hair, same nose, and lips. She’s perfect, Lina.”
I swipe the tears from my eyes and give her a watery smile.
“She gets it from her Nona,” Dad says. “You both do.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “My three beautiful girls, together at last.”
Griffin presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head, smoothing his hand down my hair. “I’ll get the luggage. Why don’t you show them to the living room?”
Once we’re settled on the sofa, Mama speaks in a hushed voice. “He’s a good man, Lina. Sent us first-class tickets and had his brother pick us up from the airport. You’ve got yourself a wonderful family.”
Dad nods along, listening but not taking his eyes off his granddaughter for a second.
“How long are you staying?” I ask.
“As long as you’ll have us,” she says. “We have an open-ended ticket.”
“You won’t miss Italy?”
She palms my cheek. “This is more important.”