Chapter 21
HARI
“I love what we've done.”
Remy and I were wandering hand in hand through the house.
I hadn’t had time to make the bed, a dresser for the baby, a new desk for my mate, plus a crib.
So in the end, Callum and Adrian did the first three items, and I kept the crib, the one that was most special, for me.
I’d worked on it at night and weekends, and today everything had been delivered except for the crib.
It had arrived, but I’d secreted it in the shed until the rest of the furniture, some of which we’d bought from other stores, had arrived and been put in place.
The bedding looked amazing, with Remy’s grandmother’s quilt, and he’d agreed that he wouldn’t pile cushions on the bed. I hated those damned things ‘cause every night at his original house, we tossed them off, and the following morning they had to go back on the bed. They were pointless.
The dresser in the nursery had been made to Remy’s specifications after talking to other dads online. The drawers were already full of folded baby clothes, and last night when my mate was asleep, I crept in here and pulled some out, marveling at how tiny they were.
“But we’re missing something.” Actually there were two somethings, but my mate wasn’t aware of the second. “Sit.” I put him in the nursery armchair. “Close your eyes and don’t peek until I say open.”
Callum and I had assembled the crib in the workshop, and I’d made it from white oak.
The spindles were the correct distance apart to satisfy safety standards.
I hadn't added a finish because babies liked to put things in their mouth and suck and gnaw on whatever was available. Instead, I’d coated the wood with a food-safe oil.
I’d done three coats over one weekend, the same one when Remy had complained he hadn’t seen me since Friday, and let each one cure before adding the next.
I was glad the house was a bungalow or I would have needed help hefting it up the stairs.
“Don’t peek,” I told Remy in between grunting, cursing, and sweating buckets. I was regretting making this a surprise.
“Sounds painful.”
He was the one with shifter strength, but he was heavily pregnant and I wasn’t having my pregnant mate lifting heavy objects.
My plan had been to put the bedding on and attach the crib mobile, but I was exhausted, and also, Remy would probably like to add the finishing touches.
“Okay, now you can look.”
His eyes snapped open, and he hauled himself up. I should have helped him, but I was lying on the carpet panting.
Remy sniffed the wood as any wood connoisseur would do, just like he did that night we had dinner in the showroom. He ran his hands over the rails and the spindles.
“You made this, didn’t you?”
I had kept it a secret, though he could have guessed, as I kept putting off going shopping for a crib or saying I didn’t like the ones in the baby stores we’d visited.
“Mmmm.”
“It scents of you.” His tears dripped onto the rail. “I love that part of you is in the crib.”
We held each other, and more tears fell and mingled on the wood.
“Shall we add the crib sheet and mobile?”
He nodded, and I let him do as much as he wanted, and I helped when he asked. This was an omega rite of passage, preparing the place where his baby would lay their head.
“It’s so beautiful. Our little one will sleep here and maybe our grandchildren too.”
I couldn’t think that far ahead, but I was glad my mate was happy with my work.
“And now if you’re up to it, I have a project you can help me with. And it’s something you can do sitting down.”
I’d made three pieces as part of a picture ledge for the baby, so when they were old enough, they could crawl and eventually walk over and take a book out.
Remy couldn’t stand for long, and the ledge was so light, he’d have no trouble holding one end while I drilled holes, especially as he was sitting.
I’d made pieces from birch, and I’d added a small front rail for the books to lean against.
“Let me get the wood and my drill and I’ll be right back.”
“If we’re making a whole-ass nursery setting, count me out. I’ll check with you in about a month and see how you’re doing.”
“Custom furniture doesn’t happen overnight, babe.” He must have heard me say that a thousand times. Maybe I should have it tattooed on my brow.
When I returned, he stared at the pieces and frowned until I showed him a pic on the phone.
“Oh, I love it.” He’d been collecting so many books since he found out about the baby, though the picture ledge wouldn’t hold all of them. We’d rotate them and the rest would sit on a traditional bookshelf.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just hold each piece.”
“You’re drilling into the wall?” He screwed up his face and looked at the pristine carpet that’d been laid before we moved in.
“No, into the studs.” There wouldn’t be much mess, not like drilling into the wall, which I’d done before the carpet was in and before we were living here.
“There’ll be hardly any mess.” But I retrieved an old cloth from the shed and placed it under where I’d be drilling, and I’d vacuum afterward to remove any traces of dust.
When I’d finished all three ledges, Remy pulled picture books from the shelf and chose the ones he wanted on the picture ledge. He arranged them and rearranged them until he was happy with the order and his selection.
“Now the room is finished, and I love it.” We hugged, and his huge belly brushed against me.
If only being a good father was as easy as putting up a shelf.
I’d had great examples in my fathers and grandfathers, but like most first-time dads, I worried whether I was up to it.
Everyone, including Remy, said kids needed love—our little one had plenty of that already—and as for the rest, we’d learn on the job.
Remy rubbed his back, and I helped him up. I suggested he climb into bed for a nap and I’d bring him some peppermint tea.
He was sitting up and reading a baby book when I walked in with two teas. Oh no, he was going to discover we shouldn’t have certain color crib sheets. We’d already repainted the nursery twice before we moved in.
“We should be talking to the baby more.”
“Okay.” We had been, and Remy read the baby stories, and we played music. But if more was needed, I’d do that.
I put my tea on the nightstand and lay my head beside my mate’s bump.
“Shall I tell you how Daddy and I met?” I’d related so many stories about my life, I couldn’t remember if I told this one, but it wasn’t as if our little one was going to complain.
“I kept trying to phone a customer who wasn’t answering. I couldn’t even leave a message, and I was getting fed up.”
Remy patted his belly. “That wasn’t my fault, little one. It was your father’s friend whose writing was more like chicken scratch.”
“Hey, this is my story. You get to tell your version later.”
I kissed my mate’s bump. “Now where was I? Right, when I finally got hold of Daddy, he really sounded as though he wanted to meet me.”
“Careful.” Remy sniggered. “This is our child you’re talking to. Not everything has to be spoken of in great detail.”
“Anyway, Daddy keeps interrupting me. He really liked me, and I liked him even though we’d never met, so he came looking for me.”
“And for our first dinner together, your father didn’t take me out, but we ate in his shop, a place you’ll get to know very well.”
He’d never told me he didn’t like eating in the showroom. “Was that a terrible idea?” My heart sank that he’d thought me cheap or it was silly.
“Oh, love, no. It was so you and very different. No one else would have come up with that.”
One of the reasons was that most people didn’t own a furniture business.
“But Daddy was worried I wouldn’t like his koala.” The baby kicked. “Oh, look at that. Our little one knows the word koala. They probably have their own koala.”
The baby kicked again. They and their koala were letting us know they heard us. Such a clever baby and beast.
Remy put down his tea and snuggled under the covers. “Okay, talking is over. This daddy and baby need sleepy time.”
“Can this dad have sleepy time too?”
“Mmmm, but only if you wrap your arms around me.”
I could do that.