32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hugo
A s I carried Scarlett Rose’s car seat into Renee and Cope’s house, a feeling of rightness settled over me. The twins had spent thirty-seven excruciating days in the hospital. My frequent visits to the NICU to visit Renee and the twins were greeted with gratitude, but she struggled with everything.
Her body didn’t bounce back the way she hoped it would.
Cope and I empathized and specifically didn’t point out that forty-two wasn’t old, but it wasn’t young either. Although Renee had been in peak condition before she got pregnant, a series of complications, including the extended bed rest, had taken their toll on her.
Her babies weren’t thriving as much as she hoped.
The doctor kept assuring her they were doing well, but little things kept cropping up, and Renee’s ability to cope was declining by the minute.
Her husband had to go back to work.
Yeah, no one could prevent that. He had patients who needed him. Renee and the twins would always be a priority, but sitting around waiting for the twins to gain weight wasn’t helping the clients who relied on Cope to get them through their own crises.
Her best friend had to, you know, work.
Despite her attempt to pile on the guilt, I took three days off work. Days when she literally couldn’t cope and had needed me more than anything. Calling in sick those days hadn’t been ideal, but I would’ve been useless at school anyway.
Somehow, we’d weathered the storms.
Somehow, the twins were home.
Somehow, I’d managed to not see Axel for thirty-seven excruciating days.
Fuck my life.
Renee held the door while Cope and I entered carrying precious cargo. Mercifully, both had slept during the short drive home. As much as the nurses had tried to get them on the same schedule, they were never awake at the same time. Which meant they never slept at the same time. Which meant Renee was in for some brutal days ahead until she could get everyone sorted.
Or so she believed.
That she could get everyone sorted.
I loved her dearly, but was pretty certain the little angels in cute sleepers held all the cards in this relationship.
Even as I had the thought, Matthew popped his eyes open. And howled in displeasure at…whatever.
Not to be outdone, Scarlett started fussing.
Renee, recovered enough to use the second floor again, pointed upstairs.
Cope and I climbed the stairs.
At least the stifling June heat stayed outside, and the central air in the house blew a gentle coolness. My place, without such luxuries, was brutally hot. Southern exposure was lovely for plants but liable to turn a nice little house into an oven.
Hence my being happy to spend plenty of time at Renee’s.
Upon arriving in the twins’ bedroom, I sighed. Two rocking chairs. Two cribs. One dresser and one changing table. If one or both babies hadn’t made it—
Breath caught in my chest. Cope and I would’ve fixed the room, of course. Or they might’ve closed it off entirely. Instead, two beautiful and very healthy babies were now going to take over this space, and life was never going to be the same.
I placed the car seat on the ground and crouched.
Scarlett was nearly the color of her name as she howled in rage.
Matthew was even louder.
I chuckled. All the years of Renee being a loudmouth were going to be paid back in spades by these two.
Having zero infant experience meant watching Cope closely as he unbuckled Matthew and gently removed him from the car seat.
With gentleness, I replicated his actions. Cope was the eldest of a passel of kids and so had helped with diapers, scraped knees, and general child raising.
With my sister and her brood so far away—and with no close cousins—I hadn’t been exposed to any of that.
Gavin had several younger siblings. He’d made it clear we weren’t having brats . Somehow, I’d internalized that and decided I wasn’t going to have them either. My douchebag ex had been gone from my life for ten years—double the time I’d been in the ill-fated marriage—and his opinions on everything still permeated my life.
As I held Scarlett, though, I didn’t feel anything but gratitude for her health. I didn’t look at her and wish for this responsibility for myself. I’d hadn’t thought I would, but I did. I’d thought I wanted kids of my own. The last thirty-seven days had shown me I didn’t need to be a father to be fulfilled. I had my kids at school. That had always been enough. Enough stress. Enough sleepless nights. Enough worry to push me into an early grave. That was truly all I needed.
But does Axel feel the same way?
I pushed the thought aside. What did it matter? Somehow our one-off had been just that. No repeat in sight.
Pauletta had come to the school to meet Marley and her dad.
Some kind of negotiations had taken place, but I hadn’t been party to them.
During her visit, she’d also demanded all copies of everything of Axel’s. The original songs—including the paper they were written on—as well as any recordings I’d created. She also took copies of the orchestrations I’d created.
She might’ve said something about compensating me.
I might’ve argued and said she could have them.
She might’ve said something about legal documents.
I might’ve tried to scrub the conversation from my mind.
Axel didn’t come. He sent his manager . Which pretty much told me everything I needed to know.
“I think they need to be changed.” Cope sniffed. Then wrinkled his nose. “Oh, yeah.”
At Renee’s insistence, I’d leaned diapering at the hospital. The idea still terrified me because I always seemed to have one less hand than I needed, but if I was going to remain in her good graces, then diaper duty was the least I could do.
By the time we had two clean infants, time for lunch had arrived.
Cope and I hustled downstairs, slightly less fussy babies in our arms, to find Renee in the kitchen, making a batch of bottles.
“Sit in the family room. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Knowing better than to disobey, Cope and I headed to the family room. I dropped onto the couch—gently—and arranged a pillow beneath my arm.
He sat on the chair.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
I ignored it again.
A third time, it buzzed.
Renee swept into the room. She handed Cope a bottle.
He immediately stuck it in the mouth of the still disgruntled Matthew.
My phone buzzed for a fourth time.
Renee dropped onto the couch next to me and indicated I should hand her Scarlett.
“I can feed the baby.”
My phone buzzed for a fifth time.
Renee glared and held open her arms. “It might be, you know, important.”
Reluctantly, I handed over my bundle. I didn’t want Renee to think badly of me. “Nothing can be that important. I’m here. The four most important people in my life are—”
A sixth buzz. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”
No one admonished me for my language. But heat raced to the tips of my ears as I dragged my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts. Pretty soon I would have to worry about my language. I did at school, of course, but never in my private life. In essence, when I wasn’t under the microscope, I let loose.
Gavin had always hated that.
My phone buzzed again. I’d lost track how many times this was.
“What the hell, Hugo?” Cope laughed. “You’re damn popular today.”
I pulled up my messages app and started scrolling. “Pauletta Magnum.”
“Really? Drink, sweetheart.” Renee tried to cajole Scarlett into taking the bottle.
The recalcitrant infant wasn’t interested. Instead, she just wanted to squawk.
Smart kid. I can’t imagine formula tastes good.
“What is it?” Cope gestured to my phone with his chin. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“A ticket.”
“Oh?” Renee’s interest was clearly piqued at the exact moment Scarlett spit up. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”
I chuckled. “Where’s the mouth soap? We’re all in trouble, aren’t we?”
Cope laughed. “Speak for yourselves—I’m a virtuous saint.”
“You got me knocked up.” Renee spat that, but without true venom.
“I seem to recall the day the Canucks lost in game seven of the playoffs.” I just had to point that one out. Cope was a way bigger hockey fan than I was, and his curse words had been epic .
He pursed his lips.
“Ticket?” Renee gestured for me to take Scarlett back.
Oh great, so she can spit up on me? I glanced at my ratty band T-shit from the late nineties. Yeah, small sacrifice. I put my phone down and gathered my goddaughter in my arms.
Renee handed me the bottle, and I didn’t hold out much hope, but apparently whatever Scarlett had been working on was gone and now she was positively voracious.
Her mother, upon seeing this, huffed. She left the room, stomping as she went.
I arched an eyebrow at Cope.
He shrugged. “We’re feeling our way through this. For some reason, two adults in their early forties believed getting pregnant would be the biggest challenge.”
I blinked.
“Right?” He pointed to each twin with his chin. “We spent so long trying to get pregnant that we never really talked about how it would work if we actually succeeded.”
“Not putting the cart before the horse?”
“Exactly.” He offered a weary smile. “Now we’re absorbing this lifetime commitment.”
“Yeah. I think I’d rather get a dog.”
“Dogs are huge commitments as well.” Renee trudged back in the room carrying three water bottles and still swiping at a spot on her blouse. She went to hand one to each of Cope and me, realized our hands really were full, shrugged, then put them within reach. She dropped back to the couch and eyed me. “You didn’t tell Cope what the ticket was for yet, did you?”
Cope snorted. “And risk you cutting his balls off? No.”
That image was vaguely distressing, but I was also in the company of the two people I loved most in the world. Well, the four. That thought shot through me like a bullet as I held Scarlett. As did the fact I wished Axel was here more than anything in the world. I sighed.
“Ticket?” Renee gestured for me to…spit it out? She always was terrible at charades.
“A ticket to Rocktoberfest. And an airplane voucher.”
Cope whistled. “That’s a good chunk of money.”
“There’s more.”
“Of course there is.” Renee angled herself toward me and nodded her head in some weird way.
“I told you about Marley—”
“Your student. The one we’ve seen perform. Keep talking.”
I didn’t point out I would’ve completed the thought if she hadn’t interrupted me. She wasn’t in a tolerant enough mood to deal with me kidding. “She’s going to be performing at the show.”
“What the fuck?” Renee’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me?”
I gestured to the phone I’d abandoned when she’d thrust Scarlett back into my arms.
She clicked a button and held the screen to my face.
It illuminated.
She winced. “I told you that my cop friend said it should be password only.”
“Renee.”
She met my gaze.
“Who the fuck wants to see my phone? There’s nothing there.”
“No sexting between you and Axel?” She arched an eyebrow. “And why haven’t you seen him?”
I snuggled Scarlett closer to me.
Renee narrowed her eyes. “You’re using your goddaughter and son as excuses for not seeing the hottest man on the planet?”
“Hey.” Cope whined that.
“Nice try, honey.” She turned to him. “You know I love you, but you’re not in the same league as Ed Markham and Axel Townsend.” She tapped her lips. “Or Thornton Graves. When are he and Ed getting married?”
Before I could answer, she waved me off.
“Okay…Marley’s singing at Rocktoberfest.” She held my phone up again because the screen had gone black. This time, she actually scrolled.
“Burp time.” Cope tossed me a receiving blanket. “Good luck.”
I grinned as I put the blanket on my shoulder. I’d done this a few times at the hospital as well.
In fact, the nursing staff commented how helpful I was. I’d overheard two of the nurses wondering if Cope, Renee, and I were in a triad relationship like that actor Cole Hamilton, his girlfriend Caressa—a nurse, no less—and their third, Michael. Since I barely knew who Cole was, I just tiptoed right past the nurse’s station. I could’ve set the record straight, but I’d had more fun telling Renee the story. She’d snickered, pointed out Cole and Michael were bi, and then moved the conversation along.
I’d googled the famous triad when I got home and got a laugh. No, I was never going to be a third to Cope and Renee. God, no.
“Okay.” Renee finally stopped scrolling. “So ticket to Rocktoberfest, voucher for airfare. You just need a rental car and a tent.”
Cope snickered. “We know what you do with tents.”
“I…” I tried to purse my lips in annoyance, but ruefulness took over. “Good point.” I pivoted back to Renee. “I can afford all that. Getting the time off school—”
She waved the phone. “Grindstone is donating part of the proceeds of their PNE performance this year to the school. They’re also throwing in one hundred tickets to be auctioned off, one hundred tickets to be raffled off, and one hundred tickets for students.”
I blinked.
“So if Merkerson doesn’t give you the time off work—well, he can go fuck himself.”
“That’s not his jam.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh…”
“Homophobic people can also be gay, Hugo. Even you know that.”
“He’s just…very straight.”
“If you say so.” She continued to scroll. “Oh.”
Scarlett belched and spit-up dribbled down my neck.
I couldn’t have been prouder. Take that, world. I made my goddaughter spit up. Fucking awesome. “Oh, what?”
“She says Axel’s going to be really busy…for the next three-and-a-half months.”
My heart sank. “Well…it might’ve been nice coming from him…but at least I know.” I’d messaged several times over the past few weeks.
He hadn’t responded.
Now I knew why.
“Hey.” Cope winced.
“He just spit up on you? Because Scarlett did a doozie on me.”
Renee snagged the cloth she’d been using to try to clean her nice shirt and attacked my neck with vigor, gently moving Scarlett’s head aside so she could get at the congealing goop. Renee had worn something pretty for the coming home from the hospital picture. I suspected she wouldn’t do that again anytime soon.
“Matthew didn’t spit up on me.” Cope continued to pat his son’s back. “I meant, hey don’t assume you know the reason.”
Renee stopped cleaning, and we both turned to Cope.
“Maybe…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe he’s got as much shit to deal with as you. I mean, how many more appointments do you have with Justin out at Healing Horses?”
I squinted. “He said he figured two or three more. He’s taking me through some self-talk exercises.”
“Thank Christ. You’re your own harshest critic.” Renee licked a corner of the cloth and stuck it down my shirt.
That was possibly even grosser than Scarlett’s spit-up, but silence was truly the better part of valor.
“So maybe don’t assume it’s you.” Cope held my gaze.
Right up until Matthew burped.
“Fuck.”
Renee and I howled with laughter at Cope’s letting the expletive rip.
Maybe he’s right. Pauletta didn’t have to send me a ticket to the concert. Huh. Maybe I should try positive self-talk instead. Four months isn’t that long to wait.
Or so I told myself.