Epilogue 2
Epilogue
A few months after the wedding…
Kipp
“I can’t believe you’re really doing this,” our pregnant wife gushes at the same time she grabs another pinch of fresh grated mozzarella from the bowl Nolan is currently collecting it in.
“I can’t believe you’re gonna eat the whole fuckin’ block of cheese before it makes it into the dish,” our husband unhappily huffs.
“Don’t food shame me, Mutt,” Bunny sasses on another bite, “or you won’t be getting any type of dessert after dinner.”
“Or cheese in my pasta,” he lightly laughs before moving the bowl a couple inches over.
“I wanted our first official meal in our new home to be special,” I announce while pouring the lasagna noodles into the strainer currently occupying our sink.
Like our minivan, this house took forever to perfect.
And also like our minivan, it’s fucking perfect.
We’re talkin’ top of the line model perfect.
Bugatti meets Rolls Royce shit.
Nolan decided a modern, industrial mesh for us was the best call, and he was right.
How he managed to capture the feeling of being in the garage yet at home with just enough built from the ground up touches is remarkable.
We picked out all the important pieces together – bathroom shit, kitchen shit, lights, ect – Bunny did most of the actual decorating for everywhere except the nursey.
She let us have that to ourselves.
On the undercarriage?
I think she didn’t wanna have to battle the car theme we already had in mind.
Probably didn’t help that most of our little man’s gifts from his baby shower – that Val, Eva, and Posie hosted together at her place here in town – were all car-themed.
But it’s our little guy.
Of course, he’s gonna be introduced into the world of cars from birth.
Erm.
From before birth.
Bunny lets me put headphones on her stomach daily to play him classical music.
I just also happen to occasionally slip in some gear shifting noises too.
He likes them.
I think.
He always kicks more during them.
It’s a weird fucking feeling.
I like it though.
Like feeling the rumble of a roided up engine.
“What can I do?” she politely inquires during my shaking to ensure all the noodles are loose.
“You can stop eatin’ the fuckin’ cheese for one,” Nolan grumps prior to moving the bowl again. “I didn’t buy extra.”
“Kid always does,” she snarkily sneers.
“And that’s why his ass usually does the shoppin’.”
Usually, because today I couldn’t.
Posie’s new car – that her fiancé Paolo bought her – needed more work than we thought, so I stayed in the shop later than I planned.
Despite having two hands in there most of the time now – Nolan’s hired a contractor tower to decrease his hours there – we’re rarely not running behind.
I mean…I’m grateful for the work – this whole havin’ a baby thing is expensive even when you’ve got green – but I miss the down time to have with them.
Watching movies in bed.
Making them.
Watching what we made a couple hours later ultimately delaying dinner or dishes or deciding on shit like flooring.
While I don’t miss that McAdams shit even a little…I do miss the requirements to stay locked in having sex all day.
Maybe once our little guy is born, we can hire an extra hand for the shop too.
That way we can all be hands on at the same time.
And I wanna be a hands on dad.
I look forward to it.
The feeding.
The holding.
The changing his flat – um – diaper.
Bouncing him while she finishes putting gloss on her lips or in between making Mutt his morning coffee.
I can’t wait to kiss his forehead before he goes to sleep.
His cheek when he wakes up crying.
Blow raspberries on his stomach just to hear him laugh.
Crazy thing is I never saw myself becoming a dad, but now that I’m going to be one?
I can’t imagine myself being anything else.
“Let me help,” whines Bunny on a bounce, curvy body damn near tumbling out of the barstool she can barely fit on at the moment. “I need to help.” She quickly dusts her fingers off onto the space in front of her. “Not doing anything, anywhere, is killing me.”
Yeah…she’s not handling the whole “no work” until after our little dude pops out thing very well.
It was doctor’s orders.
Doctor’s orders that I swore for a sec might cost her her best friend.
Other best friend.
While we had a lot of stress and strain and trauma during the early days of her preggerness – due to the McNightmares – the middle part had a bit too – way to go wedding and house shit – so now that we’re at the end Val demanded she backseat everything besides taking it easy.
Apparently non-car movie marathons and eating her weight in macaroni and cheese between going to O town isn’t enough.
She’s been – under the radar – extra pissy for the past nine days.
Started the same day she took out her tongue ring, claiming it was just adding to her increasing discomfort.
Not sure who wants him out more at this point.
Her or us.
We hate seeing her so damn miserable.
I prepare to immediately cave when Nolan shoots me a disapproving look.
Fuck, I know.
I know I should keep telling her no, but I’m tired of her frowning more than smiling.
He frowns all the time.
Having him continue to do it is just another Tuesday.
“You can cut the bread,” I cave, only to instantly be hit by grumbles of discontent.
“Yay!”
“ But- ”
“Less yay.”
“You have to sit while you do it.” Putting the pot down on the hand knitted coaster we got from Suzie as a wedding gift is accompanied by a firm expression. “I want you to keep resting your poor swollen feet until we can properly soak ‘em after dinner, baby.”
“And fuck ‘em between soaks,” Nolan needlessly adds.
“Fine,” she pouts, puffy face somehow becoming even puffier during it.
“ Try again, Rabbit .”
Her lack of retort receives his glare.
“ Try again, Mrs. Nolan, or I will have the other Mr. Nolan revoke his previous offer. ”
Kipp Nolan sounds pretty fucking strange still.
We’re talkin’ a Lotus engine in a Honda level of weird.
But I loved that he insisted I add it to mine versus completely changing.
That he insists on introducing both of us with it.
And of course, getting to sign it to shit.
Plus, us all having the same last name as our son – who we have yet to agree on a name for – will come in handy too.
“Thank you, Kid,” Bunny lovingly corrects causing Nolan to return to his task.
I gingerly grin prior to pointing to the kitchen table that looks out onto our patio and a bit of our backyard. “Bread’s on the table.” She nods and stands while I lean over to whisper, “ And thank you for having my rear, Mr. Nolan. ”
“Oh, I’ve always got that…” A wolfish smirk slips into place. “Why don’t you bend over the counter and-”
“ Guys… ” our wife states with such horror in her voice it’s impossible not to snap our attention to her. “ My water just broke. ”