19. Katy
CHAPTER NINETEEN
katy
PACKAGES
The first package arrives Tuesday afternoon. I’m sitting at Grandma Patty’s kitchen table, eating my third sandwich, when the doorbell rings.
Declan gets it.
Thirty seconds later, he’s back in the kitchen holding a medium-sized box and wearing the exact expression he had the time he walked in on me and Ella trying to figure out how to use my breast pump.
“Why is there a box addressed to you,” he asks slowly, “from Bass Pro Shop?”
I blink. “Oh.”
“Oh?” he repeats.
Before I can explain, the doorbell rings again.
And again.
By the fourth trip, Declan is stacking boxes by the wall like he’s building a fort.
“What is happening?”
Grandma Patty peers over her glasses. “Looks like nesting to me.”
“It’s not nesting,” Declan mutters. “It says from Jason. Who the hell is Jason?”
I glance at the return labels and feel my cheeks heat.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Declan squints. “Why is there one from Dick’s Sporting Goods?”
I wince. “Okay, so… remember how I’m friends with some guys from the football team?”
His head snaps up. “What guys?”
Grandma Patty is already standing. “Open them,” she says brightly, clapping her hands. “I love surprises.”
“You do not need to open them,” Declan mutters.
I ignore him, obviously.
The first box contains a tiny football onesie with Jason’s number.
The second has a soft gray baby blanket with “Future MVP” stitched on the corner.
The third box has a pair of cute baby socks with little footballs on them.
I press a hand to my mouth, laughing and crying at the same time.
Declan stares at the pile. “Why are multiple grown men sending my sister’s baby sports-themed gifts?”
Grandma Patty hums approvingly. “Because they’re being nice. Stop being a grump.”
“Grandma,” Declan says, “this is not normal.”
She picks up the blanket and rubs it between her fingers. “Who sent this one?”
I check the note. “Ethan.”
“And this?” she asks, lifting the onesie.
“Jason.”
She nods like she’s tallying something important.
Declan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like this.”
The doorbell rings again.
This time, Ben appears in the doorway, holding a giant box like he’s unsure whether he’s allowed inside.
“Uh,” he says. “This might be… mine?”
Declan’s eyes narrow. “You too?”
Ben winces. “In my defense, I was peer-pressured.”
Grandma Patty beams. “Open it.”
Ben looks at me. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to.” I grin.
A stroller system. The one I’ve been eyeing.
Grandma Patty presses a hand to her heart. “Oh, Benjamin wins.” She pats Ben’s arm. “You did good, sweetheart.”
Ben flushes. “I didn’t want to overdo it,” he says quietly. “I just… wanted to be supportive.”
I meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
The kitchen is quiet for a beat. Then Grandma Patty claps her hands. “Well. If the baby doesn’t feel loved already, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Declan exhales, shaking his head. “I am so confused right now.”
Grandma laughs as she heads upstairs.
Declan leaves to meet Ella. It’s just me and Ben now. I smile, surrounded by boxes, warmth, and people who showed up without being asked. Maybe this is what it looks like when a family starts forming. Messy, loud, and full of surprises.
Ben inspects the onesie. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“It’s cute, right?”
“Cute?” Ben’s groan turns into a low growl. “Over my dead body is my kid wearing his number.”
I smirk. “But it’s free clothes. And technically, there’s like a ten percent chance—”
“Katy Cat.” His voice is sharp, pleading, tortured. “Stop doing percentages at me.”
Before he keeps complaining I find another package. Out comes a crocheted… something. I tilt my head. “Okay, this is either a giraffe or a deformed llama.”
Ben squints. “Who even sent that?”
“Matt.” I hug the mutant giraffe. “Looks handmade. I kind of love it.” I slide onto his lap, smirking. “You’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” He scoffs. “Of your revenge roster sending apology gifts? And don’t think I didn’t notice these guys are all football players.”
“Well, I was specifically trying to spite you. So…yes.”
“Katy Cat.”
My grin softens. I lean in close, whispering, “I know. But you’re still the one putting the stroller together. You’re the one holding my hand.”
And just like that, Ben melts, muttering into my hair, “It’s kind of sweet, actually. You only went for knockoff versions of me.”
That makes me laugh until my stomach hurts.
Maybe Daddies Brigade
Katy
Thanks for all the gifts, gentlemen. Consider this my official gratitude text
Logan
Glad you liked the socks. You good?
Jason
Tell Ben the baby’s gonna look better in my jersey.
Ben
DELETE THIS CHAT, KATY.
Matt
Did the giraffe hold up? Be honest.
Katy
He’s perfect. Mutant, but perfect.
Ethan
The blanket is supposed to be organic. Whatever that means.
Logan
Keep us posted on your next appointment, okay? Just to know you’re doing okay.
Katy
You guys realize this is the weirdest support group in history, right?
Jason
Nah. It’s the coolest.
BEN
It takes Declan and me two hours to figure out the stroller and clean up the package disaster.
And that completely unhinged group chat explodes for another hour straight.
By then, I’m feeling weirdly possessive, so I drag Katy out to dinner.
“Want dessert?” I ask, even though I already know what she’s gonna say.
“I can’t eat anything else,” Katy groans, leaning back in her chair. “It was all amazing.”
I chuckle. It makes me ridiculously happy to see her having fun. We’re at her favorite restaurant, and earlier we went to the movies. We’ve laughed the entire time.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I say with a stupid grin.
She yawns, blinking slowly. Jesus, she’s cute.
“Okay, sleepy girl. Let’s get you home.”
Before I even start the car, she rests her head on my shoulder, and I know she plans to keep it there. Just how she always used to do.
Except she covers my hand with hers and guides it to her stomach. And the baby kicks. Hard.
I go completely still.
Another thump lands against my palm, strong and certain, and something sharp cracks open in my chest.
“Oh,” I breathe, voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Wow. Hi there.”
Katy laughs through a sound dangerously close to a sob. I lift my eyes to hers and lose whatever fight I’d been putting up. My eyes sting.
“Hey, little man,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “It’s me.”
I don’t say dad.
But I think it so hard it hurts.
I’ve never wanted anything this badly. My thumb strokes once over the curve of her stomach before I can stop myself.
“I think he really likes you,” she whispers, like she’s afraid to say it too loud.
“I hope so,” I whisper.
“Stay there,” I tell her when we pull up to her house.
She obeys without question. I round the car, open the door for her, and help her out. I keep my hand on her lower back as we walk to her front door. That’s when she stops and looks at me.
“Can you stay for a little bit?” she asks, biting her lip like she’s nervous.
“Of course.”
I follow her to her room and close the door behind us. I think no one else is home yet. She settles on the bed, pulling the quilt around herself like armor. One hand resting on her belly without thinking. I take the armchair across the room on purpose. As far away as I can be without leaving.
She pats the spot beside her.
I hesitate for half a second, then I’m next to her in less than two.
The night breathes around us, but the tension in this room is becoming unbearable. I’ve never wanted to touch someone so badly while being this afraid of doing it wrong.
“Ben,” she says quietly, almost pleading.
I look at her. “Do you want me to go?”
I would if she asked.
“No.”
She says it shaky enough to ruin me.
So, I move, slow and obvious, giving her every possible exit. The mattress dips when I shift closer, the air between us changing. I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her to me, my face immediately going to her neck and breathing her in.
“I miss you,” I confess before I can stop myself.
She lets out a small, brittle laugh. “I miss you too… but I look like a giant balloon. Not exactly sexy.”
I shake my head. “You’re the most beautiful and perfect woman I’ve ever seen, Katy. I can’t stop looking at you. Thinking about you. Wanting you.”
She just looks at me, eyes a little shocked, like she didn’t expect that to be true.
My fingers brush her jaw, barely there, testing the space between us. She doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches, and it wrecks me.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
Her answer is grabbing my face with both hands and pulling me to her.
The kiss is soft enough to hurt. Familiar enough to ruin me. Loving. Like she’s trying to tell me everything she’s never said out loud. And I know, God, I know, she’s always loved me.
She parts her lips, and every ounce of control I dragged in here starts slipping. I make a sound in my throat I don’t recognize.
I kiss her deeper, slower, trying to memorize the feel of her all over again.
“Katy,” I breathe against her mouth.
Her fingers slide into my hair. “Again,” she whispers.
So, I do.
I kiss her until we’re both breathing too hard for how little we’ve done.
My hand slides down her side, slow enough that she can stop me anytime. She doesn’t. It settles over the curve of her hip instead, thumb brushing lightly once, then twice.
Her breath catches. Mine nearly stops with it.
Katy looks at me with the same worshipful eyes she always has, like I’m somehow better than I actually am.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, but still careful. My hands shake, and I don’t hide it. I want her to see how much this means to me.
She takes my wrist in her hand and guides me lower, her eyes locked on mine the entire time.
The trust she has in me nearly undoes me.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” I whisper.
“Nothing will,” she whispers. “Please, Ben.”
So, I touch her like I have all the time in the world. Slow, careful, deliberate. Like every inch of her deserves apology and worship in equal measure.
Every change comes with a glance, a breath, a question. “Jesus,” I mutter when she arches into my hand.
She smiles, small and smug, and it nearly kills me. She finally relaxes under my hands inch by inch, tension melting away until she finally exhales.
It feels like victory.
Not long after, she falls asleep in my arms, my hand resting over her stomach, feeling the faintest movement like a secret only I get to know. No matter what any test says, these two are mine.
She shifts just enough to look at me. I kiss her forehead and keep my hand over both of them.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into the dark. “This time, I’m staying.”