Austin
THIRTY-SEVEN
“I’m hungry,” Rhys says from his spot next to me on the couch, the video game controller in his hand dropping onto the cushion.
The car his avatar is driving crashes into the wall, coming to a stop as opponents whoosh by.
Rowan presses pause now that his brother is no longer interested in their race, tossing a look over his shoulder at us.
“Me too.”
I haven’t been here long—not even an hour and a half—but they haven’t eaten since lunch, and if I know anything about being a growing boy, it’s that they’re bottomless pits.
“What do you guys want?” I ask. “Does your mom usually plan ahead for dinner, or does she just wing it?”
“She has a list on the refrigerator,” Rowan answers, and I nod, standing to my feet.
They resume their game as I make my way to the kitchen, locating several pieces of paper that are affixed to the stainless-steel appliance with colorful magnets.
Her weekly menu is front and center, the familiar handwriting mapping out each meal, complete with sides.
Today’s dinner is chicken quesadillas, which seems easy enough.
I can do this. No problem.
Determined to pull it off exactly the way Paris would want, I begin looking through cupboards and gathering ingredients, setting them onto the counter one by one.
I’m grateful to find a bowl of chicken that’s already been shredded inside the refrigerator, with a little label that says Sunday right on top of the cling wrap.
But as I close the door with the white bowl clutched in my hand, a much longer piece of paper catches my eye.
I drag my gaze down the sizable note entitled Babysitter Info, looking for anything that says I’m doing things wrong.
It’s all pretty standard; emergency phone numbers and allergies, stuff that every parent would want the person responsible for their children’s safety to know.
But as I reach the middle of the list, I catch on the section labeled Dinner Instructions.
Dinner from this week’s menu has been prepared and is in the refrigerator.
If the meal is even remotely spicy or contains green beans, Lennon won’t eat it.
If this is the case, please give her one of the prepared items in the freezer (defrost in the microwave for 1-2 minute intervals until completely thawed) with a pouch of HappyGrow organic applesauce.
“Alright, then,” I mutter, turning back toward the row of cupboards on the wall and heading in their direction.
There are plenty of groceries, everything from banana chips to individual packs of fish-shaped crackers, but I’m not seeing any applesauce pouches as I dig my way to the back of the dark space.
Walking around the corner, I pop my head into the living room, where the boys have resumed their race. “Do you guys know where Lenny’s applesauce is? It’s not in the cupboard with the other food.”
“Behind the granola bars,” Rowan tosses back without breaking his concentration. But his brother chimes in, his car smashing into another wall, then straightening back out as he hits the gas.
“Nuh-uh. I ate the last one this morning.”
Rowan whips his head toward Rhys. “Mom said not to do that anymore. You’re supposed to leave them for Len.”
The younger of the two shrugs, his eyes still focused on the screen in front of him. “I needed extra power.”
Huffing an annoyed exhale, Rowan shakes his head, making me chuckle. “It’s fine,” I say, checking my smartwatch. “It’s not that late. I’m sure I can find it somewhere and have it delivered.”
I leave them to their own devices, returning to the kitchen and pulling my phone from my pocket. Typing HappyGrow Organic Applesauce into the grocery app, I wait as it loads, my brows furrowing when it tells me that the brand I’m looking for is out of stock everywhere.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, dragging an exasperated hand down my face.
The baby has been napping for a while, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she wakes up hungry.
As it is, I’ve probably already let her sleep too long, which’ll likely bite me in the ass and result in her being up all night.
Knowing I don’t have time to waste, I pull up the Messages app and type out a text.
ME:
I’m about to ask you a stupid question. Be nice.
FINLEY:
Have you met my boyfriend? Last week, he asked me if cereal was considered a soup. Nothing you can say right now will be stupider than that.
I laugh quietly, not surprised in the least. Theo is an amazing cornerback, but when I think about what goes on inside his head, all I see is one of those wind-up chimpanzees banging a set of cymbals together, and nothing else.
ME:
Good point.
Anyway, Paris has a list here that says to give Lennon a HappyGrow organic applesauce pouch with her dinner, but she’s out, and none of the local grocers have it in stock. Can I give her regular applesauce, or is there something special about that brand?
FINLEY:
Any organic applesauce should be fine, as long as it doesn’t have any added ingredients that she’s allergic to.
Wait, where’s Paris? Why are you feeding Lennon dinner?
ME:
She’s not feeling well. She overdid it today, so I’m trying to let her rest, but all I have are the instructions she leaves for her babysitter.
FINLEY:
Poor thing.
I think we have some of those pouches, actually. Norah loves them. If you give me about twenty, I can drop a box off to you. Theo’s sister is in town, and I’m sure she’d be happy to sit with the kids for a bit.
ME:
You’re a lifesaver, Fin. Thanks.
FINLEY:
Nonsense. See you soon!
A half hour later, I’m opening the door to a smiling Finley, Theo trailing her with a giant bag of what looks to be baby supplies. A pack of diapers peeks from the top, a few other items wedged in beside it.
“Sorry,” Finley says with a smirk. “He’s like a dog. He hears the car keys jingle and has to come along.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love me following you around, Mama,” he replies, making her roll her eyes playfully. He hands me the bag, and I look inside, happy to find a box of the elusive applesauce pouches beneath a package of baby wipes.
My grateful gaze finds Finley, and we exchange smiles. “Thank you.”
“Seriously, Austin. It’s no problem at all.
” She jerks her chin toward the items in the plastic bag.
“I loaded it up with everything you might need for the evening. I’m sure Paris already has most of this stuff, but there’s nothing worse than running out after the stores are closed. Better safe than sorry.”
My tense muscles relax, my heart swelling all over again. I only expected applesauce, yet these two threw together a whole survival kit and got here before the quesadillas were even done baking. I don’t know what I did to deserve friends like them in my life, but I’m happy they’re mine.
As if she knew we were preparing for her, Lennon’s tired whines bleed through the video baby monitor that sits on the coffee table, causing all three of us to look in its direction.
We watch as she stirs, rubbing her eyes for several seconds before rolling onto her side and sitting up.
She hugs her brown bunny to her chest, scanning the room a moment before a soft cry bursts from her lungs.
“Shit,” I say quietly, turning toward the stairs just as the timer on the oven begins to beep.
I freeze in place, not sure which direction to go in, my heart rate skyrocketing at the sudden influx of stress.
Thankfully, Finley notices right away, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder as her eyes lock onto mine.
“What do you need?”
I exhale harshly, my shoulders slumping in relief. “Quesadillas have to come out of the oven. Lennon probably needs to be changed, but I don’t know h—”
“On it, Cap,” Theo chimes in, cutting me off.
“I’ll take care of dinner, and Fin can show you how to change a diaper.
” He doesn’t even wait for a reply as he rushes toward the kitchen, both of the boys pushing up to their feet and following him.
Rhys says something about a real-life Renegade in his house, but I’m too busy leading Finley up the stairs to remind him that I, too, used to be one…
and that I’ve got more Super Bowl rings than Theo does.
We’ll go over that again later. I need my cool points back.
By the time we reach Lennon’s room, she’s standing up in her crib, her cheeks wet with crocodile tears as she wails. She stops the moment her pretty brown eyes connect to mine, her arms stretching toward me right before she flips my entire existence on its fucking side.
“Dada.”
I nearly stumble as my muscles lock, my movements halting as though I’ve slammed into an imaginary brick wall.
My brows pull inward, a heady cocktail of emotions leaving me completely stunned as I try to reconcile reality.
At first, I have to wonder if I even heard her right, my brain glitching while I desperately try to replay the last few seconds.
But any doubt in my mind is shattered into a million beautiful pieces when she reaches across the guardrail, her chin wobbling as she repeats the earth-shattering word one more time.
“Dada.”
A jolt of warmth rushes through my limbs, and I remember to breathe, the present coming back into focus as I eat up the space between us and lift her from the crib.
I hold her close, her little heart beating against mine in the otherwise silent room.
My hand cups the back of her head, my lips pressing to her hair as I inhale her soft, powdery scent.
I’m full—so fucking full in every way a man can be, grateful for all the pain, loss, and longing I’ve endured because it brought me right here—to the moment where my purpose in life has become so undeniably clear.
Whatever happens with Paris and me on a romantic level is still up in the air, but until my dying day, I belong to these four perfect humans who’ve quickly become my reason for breathing.
I live in the moment for a little while longer, whispering gentle promises and swaying back and forth while Lennon plays with the scruff under my chin.
I could stay like this forever, letting those two syllables play over and over in my head like a song.
It isn’t until I hear a quiet sniffle coming from behind me that I return to the here and now, remembering that there’s a whole other person in the room.
Turning, I take in Finley’s awestruck expression, her eyes sparkling with tears and her lower lip trembling.
The nursery is mostly dark, save for the moonlight bleeding in through the sheer curtains, but there’s no mistaking the emotion in her gaze.
She witnessed the entire thing, that fact sobering me a little because, well, she witnessed the entire thing.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath, completely forgetting about the little bundle in my arms who’ll no doubt be parroting that word soon. I definitely got swept away, not giving a fuck that I’m not actually Lennon’s dad. “Fin, I don’t…”
“Nope,” she cuts in, raising her palms between us before I can finish my sentence. “Don’t you dare rob yourself of this, Austin. She’s choosing you, and I don’t blame her for it one bit.”
I swallow thickly, the backs of my eyes prickling as more emotions rush to the surface.
I’ve wanted a family of my own for as long as I can remember, but because of my career, I thought the opportunity had passed me by.
Nothing has ever felt greater than being chosen by Lennon, but I can’t stop the nagging voice in the back of my mind from telling me that she isn’t really mine.
“But I’m not her dad,” I choke out, the words feeling so incredibly wrong as they roll off my tongue. Finley’s response is immediate, her features softening as a whimsical smile plays at her lips.
“A very wise, loving, hot as fudge man once told me that blood doesn’t make you a family. There’s so much more to it than that, and you, Austin Baker, are right here in all the ways that matter most.”
Theo.
It seems like just yesterday that he was moving Finley into his house after Norah’s biological father wrote them off.
The man didn’t hesitate to love and protect that little girl like she was his own, capturing her mother’s heart in the process.
Not a single one of us would ever look at Norah and see anything but Theo’s daughter, because that’s exactly who she is.
I may not share the same DNA as Rowan, Rhys, and Lennon, but I promise to be there for every triumphant win and hard loss, reminding them of how amazing they are, and how proud I am to call them mine.
“Thanks, Fin,” I murmur, pressing one more kiss to the crown of my princess’ head. “For your kind words, and just…for everything.”
She grins from ear to ear, shoving at my shoulder playfully. “That’s what families are for, silly. Now let’s get this little beauty changed before Theo and the boys burn the place to the ground.”