Breathe With Me By Becka Mack - 34

Four months later, Halloween

“I JUST DON’T SEE WHY the parents aren’t allowed to dress up. What kind of message does it send to the kids if we’re putting age limits on Halloween costumes?”

I don’t bother reminding Carter that, while he may be a parent, he is not a parent to any of the children who attend this school. It’s a point at least one of us has made several times recently, kind of like how this entire conversation/argument about Carter not being allowed to wear a costume to the school Halloween parade has been had no fewer than five times in the last three days.

“I have to admit,” Jaxon starts, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes as he leans against the wall in the school gym, “it does feel a little exclusive. Like, Mittens wanted to come, and I had to break it to him that—”

“Did he say that?”

His gaze slides to me. “What?”

“Mittens. Your cat. Did he say he wanted to come?”

He stares at me. Blinks once, then twice. “He didn’t need to say it. We have a soul connection.”

“Mhmm. And maybe it’s that type of unhinged behavior from adults that requires the school to put rules like these in place.”

“Did you just—did she just—” Jaxon looks between me and Emmett, who simply lifts his brows. He scowls, bending to hide his mouth in Lennon’s hair. “Honey, Cara just called me an unhinged cat daddy.”

“I certainly did not call you a cat daddy. And we all know who’s in charge of the group costumes.” I circle a hand around Carter’s frowny face. “No need to scar unsuspecting children with the amount of thigh you probably plan to show.” See: two years ago, when he made the guys dress up as the Spice Girls. Or a couple years before that, when they were all a different Britney Spears.

Carter rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go. How many times do I have to say this? What’s the point of having luscious thighs if I can’t show them off? ” He jabs Emmett in the chest. “Plus, your husband was the first to suggest this year’s costume.”

Emmett squeezes the bridge of his nose. “It was a joke ! I said it while laughing !”

Carter blinks. “Do I strike you as someone who jokes about costumes?”

Adam’s head bobs. “Yeah, to be fair, Em, that one’s on you. You should have known better.”

Garrett scuffs at the gym floor, huffing. “He was this close to settling on Taylor Swift eras before your little suggestion .” He throws his arms wide. “I had my Fearless outfit picked out already!”

Jaxon shoves him. “ I was gonna be the Fearless era!”

Garrett shoves him back. “No, I was!”

Ireland stomps her foot, fists balled at her side. “No, me !” She leans toward me, hand in front of her mouth as if that’ll hide her words. It doesn’t; she hasn’t figured out whispering yet. “I don’t know what we yellin’ ’bout.”

I stifle my snort as Olivia rolls her eyes. Suddenly, the lights in the gym dim, and “Monster Mash” surrounds us. I fumble for my purse, pulling out my phone. “Oh, it’s starting! Everyone shut up!” Rosie and I elbow everyone out of the way—politely, or whatever—kneeling with our phones pointed at the door. Emmett and Adam hang back for a solid three seconds, but the second the gym door opens, they rush over. I glance at my husband, trying to subtly shift in front of Adam, like he’s worried the man with a whole two inches on him might block his view. “Way to play it cool,” I mutter to him.

“Pssh. I am cool. I— oh my God, it’s starting !” Emmett all but shoves Adam out of the way, holding his phone out, recording as one of the kindergarten classes starts filtering into the gym. He looks back at me, the grin that splits his face so beautiful, I’d fall to my knees if I weren’t already on them. “Care, firefly, look ! It’s starting!”

Giggling, I shake my head, watching the line of kids parade into the middle of the gym. There are princesses and pirates, superhero dogs, dragons, what I’m pretty sure is a child dressed as a—

“ Cat lady! ” Jaxon points to the little girl in a fluffy robe and her hair in big rollers, cat stuffies pinned all over her. “That kid’s a cat lady!” He starts a slow clap that nobody else joins in on, but it doesn’t deter him. “Give her the award! Best. Costume. Ever! ”

“Who the fuck decided to alternate the kindergarteners with the eighth graders?” Rosie grumbles as a line of big kids follows the first class, instead of the next kindergarten class. “If I need to take over parent council, I will.”

“Rosie as an aggressive mama bear is my favorite animal,” I murmur, followed by a sigh as the second kindergarten class starts, and it’s still not Abel’s. “Seven fucking kindergarten classes,” I mutter. “Was everyone fucking like bunnies four years ago, or what? Can nobody keep it in their pants? They should really try some restra— there he is! ” My heartbeat does that thing it does every time I get a moment to just look at this boy, at this brilliant, incredible kid who life gifted us with. That silly little beat patters so hard, so fast, until it trips over itself, and then slows. All but rolls to a stop, until it’s the only thing I hear, a soft but steady reminder that, sometimes, the most beautiful things take time.

That’s how I feel when I look at my son.

I watch my favorite stegosaurus pause just inside the door, causing a traffic jam behind him as his wide, uncertain eyes move around the gym. Sometimes, I swear I see a whole lifetime in those cool green depths. Wonder and curiosity, patience and uncertainty, courage and adventure. I see fear, I see grief, and beyond it all I see happiness, and so, so much love. I see a lifetime, the one we’ve lived on our way to him, and him on the way to us. The one we live now, where the love we share always outweighs the rest, no matter where our days take us.

And as those eyes connect with mine, as Abel spots us, his family, all the people gathered here to watch him march around his school gym in a dinosaur costume he hasn’t taken off since it arrived in the mail three weeks ago, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that it’s all been worth it. The trip here, the years spent wishing and hoping and praying, the wild, unforgiving ride, the detonating crash that split every inch of me apart and stole the breath from my lungs, and the treacherous climb back up to the place where I built myself brand-new.

All of it, every single minute on the way to him, was worth it.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

A grin splits my face in two as that little boy ditches his line, races over as best he can while wearing horns and a tail longer than he is tall. He collides with Emmett and me as the rest of our family hoots and hollers, and I sink into the feeling, this certainty that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be in this life, loving and being loved by exactly who I’m meant to. And that? That right there is a special kind of peace.

Abel shifts back, sniffling as he tries to wipe at the tears on his pink cheeks. He fails miserably, his dino hands far too big.

Smiling softly, I brush the tears away. “Why are you crying, sweet boy?”

“I’m so lucky,” he manages on a hiccup. “I’m so lucky you’re my mommy and my daddy.”

I take his hand in mine, squeezing gently as Emmett cradles Abel’s face in his strong hands and tells him with no uncertainty, “And we’re so lucky you’re our Abel.”

T HERE’S SOMETHING ESPECIALLY ADMIRABLE ABOUT getting shushed at a school Halloween parade. Shameful? I mean, I guess , if you care what other people think. But admirable? Absolutely.

“Sue me for loving my kid out loud.” A door slams, and Adam struts out of the bathroom at Carter and Olivia’s, a furrow etched between his brows. It’s been there for three hours now. I’m concerned it’s permanent. “All I said was that’s my girl ! So what if I followed it up with a fist whoop? It’s not like I took off my shirt and whipped it around.”

I assume he’s talking about when Lily’s class joined the gym, and she proudly paraded around it dressed as a veterinarian. It’s true, he didn’t take off his shirt and whip it around. He used the cardigan he’d pulled off ten minutes prior to that.

“You’re a bad influence.” He gestures wildly at me, the same way he’s apparently grasping at straws. “I never got in trouble before I met you. Then you were all like, ‘Adam, you should talk more. Adam, no need to be shy around us. Adam, be proud to be exactly who you are without holding back.’ ” He throws his arms overhead, blue eyes wild. “Now suddenly I’m getting shushed at an event for children .”

“First of all, that impression?” I pinch my thumb and pointer finger together, giving him an okay . “Ten outta ten. I’m flattered by the accuracy, Adam, thank you.” I place my hand over my heart in sincerity. “Second of all—I’m sorry. I can’t.” I close my eyes and stifle a laugh, waving a hand in front of my face. “I can’t take you seriously dressed like that. What… what are you wearing?”

Adam looks down at himself, picking up his feet in his baggy jeans, tugging at the light-pink polo shirt that he’s—somehow—drowning in, despite being six five. “It’s a five-XL,” he complains, but it’s the long red locks he tosses over his shoulder that have me gripping my stomach, bending over the counter as howling laughter comes barreling out of me. “I told Carter it’s not fair. Why does everyone else get to dress sexy and I have to wear this?”

Rosie arches a brow, and I gotta hand it to her, I have no idea how she’s managing to hold it together right now. “You’d prefer to show some skin?”

“No.” Adam pouts, crossing his arms, scuffing at the floor. “Yes. I mean, everyone else is.”

“You know, I appreciate that Carter lets me keep my natural hair color each year,” he says, smoothing his hands over his straightened blond strands. “But could he at least give me a bit of wiggle room with my skirt? I’m practically free-balling it!”

Jaxon joins us in a hot-pink sweater, his brown hair set in loose curls. “Not me.” He gives us a little twirl, flipping up the front of his brown plaid miniskirt when he spins to a stop, revealing a pair of stretchy shorts. “He got me a skort! It has built-in shorts with pockets, and there was even a Toaster Strudel in one of them. I think it was part of the costume, but I ate it. Don’t tell Carter.”

“Oh my God,” Olivia murmurs, hand over her mouth as she looks between the boys like she’s just figured out who they all are. “No, but if Adam’s Cady Heron, and Garrett’s Karen Smith, and Jaxon’s Gretchen Wieners, and… and… okay, but, there’s only one Mean Girl left, and there’s still Carter and Emmett, so maybe —”

Olivia shuts her mouth. Opens it again. Shakes her head as Emmett emerges from the basement in skintight black spandex, wearing a pink board over his chest and back, BURN BOOK pasted to the front of it. “No,” she whispers. “No, because if Adam’s… and if Garrett’s… and-and-and… if you’re… then that means…”

As if that’s his cue, tires squeal in the near distance. Like, from the dining room. An engine roars—more like squeaks—and Ireland’s pink ride-on car slides into the hallway, skidding to a halt before us.

Carter struggles to get out of it, hiking one hairy leg over the door, the other jammed beneath the steering wheel. “Ow, fuck, shit,” he mutters, then seems to reconsider, or maybe he just accepts his fate. He stops fighting with the car and lets his leg hang over the door, his leather miniskirt riding dangerously high up his thigh. Beneath his pink cardigan the words A LITTLE BIT DRAMATIC stretch across his skintight white T-shirt, and I’ve never seen anything quite so accurate as he flips his long blonde wig over his shoulder and says, “Get in, losers, we’re going shopping.”

Abel looks Carter over with so much curiosity, but it’s the absence of all surprise that does me in. Instead, his gaze slowly slides away, and he spins into my side, tugging on my hand. “Can we leave Uncle Carter here and go trick-or-treating without him?”

We don’t, of course, even though Olivia insists it’s a wonderful idea.

Instead, we head out twenty minutes later, after a photo shoot on the front porch, with our entire crew in tow. Instead, we have to deal with every single person we meet on the street who wants a picture of their favorite Vancouver Vipers dressed up as Mean Girls. Instead, we’re subjected to an hour of Carter’s nonstop gloating after a stranger remarks that their costumes are more iconic than the movie itself. And perhaps worst of all? We have to sit through two rounds of Karaoke with Carter after we’re done trick-or-treating, all because Abel, Lily, and Connor said I’m not tired yet .

And when it’s all over, and Emmett and I sit at the kitchen island while Abel talks with Catharine on FaceTime, I’m certain I wouldn’t change a minute of it.

“And then she, um, she said, ‘A dinosaur? I scared of dinosaurs!’ and I went like this, I went, roar !” Abel makes claws with his hands, roaring as loud as he can, teeth bared as he tells Catharine about the old lady down the street who pretended she thought Abel was a real dinosaur. He shrugs. “But then I say, ‘It’s okay. I not a weal dinosaur. I just pwetending.’ ”

Catharine laughs, and it makes me smile, the way it always does these days, because it’s so much lighter than anything I’d ever heard from her while she was still living in Vancouver. “I’m so glad you had such a great time trick-or-treating. You know, I’ve never been.”

“What?” I lean into the frame, a look of what must be pure horror on my face. “That can’t be true.”

“We had to abstain from all appearances of evil, Cara,” she tells me very matter-of-factly, then sighs. “Even then, most of my friends’ parents still let them dress up and trick-or-treat.”

“Oh my God. This is new information. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Okay, it’s okay.” I flap my hands, not sure how to process this. I snap my fingers at Emmett. “Baby, my ideas book. Please.”

He opens the drawer that used to be filled with sex toys, now filled only with various notebooks to record my brilliant ideas whenever the mood strikes. He finds the purple one titled Parties and tosses it across the counter to me, along with a pen. “You’ve brought this on yourself, Cat.”

I point my pen at her before scrawling in the notebook, Cat’s 1st Halloween , underlining it twice. “Next Halloween. Next Halloween, you’re coming down and you’re trick-or-treating with us. Who’s your favorite Disney princess? Oooh, or villain. Favorite animal? A cat would be cute, ’cause, Cat. Oh, wait, you love to read, a bookworm would be ironic…” I cackle quietly, though one could possibly perceive it to be a wee bit on the maniacal side, and hold up my notebook, showing Catharine the doodle of herself I just completed. I point to the devil horns on her head. “Get it?”

She snorts a laugh so loud, so fun, I can’t help but grin.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a year to plan this. It’ll be spectacular.”

“I’m scared.”

“You should be.” Closing my notebook, I smile down at Abel as he yawns, reaching for Emmett. “We should get you off to bed, huh?”

He nods, laying his head on Emmett’s shoulder before giving Catharine a sleepy, heartbreaking smile. “I love you, Catharine.”

“I love you too, little man,” she tells him, and when Emmett starts up the stairs with him, she wipes a tear from her eye.

“You okay?”

She nods, sniffling. “I am, truly.”

And I don’t doubt that. It’s only been two months since Catharine moved to Kelowna and started school, but she’s flourished so much. She spent most of the summer panicking about truly being on her own for the first time and whether she could handle it, but when we took the long weekend to drive up there with her and help her get moved in, every anxious thought she’d had vanished. Watching her step out of the car and look up at her future was like watching someone take their first breath.

She FaceTimes with Abel once a week, and she came down over Thanksgiving and spent the long weekend with us. She works, she studies, and she spends all of her free time reading and writing, and she’s happy . What a privilege it is to be able to see her reach out and take control of her happiness.

“Hey.” I wait for her gaze to come back to mine, and I smile. “You’re doing it.”

Her smile is tentative, like she has to give herself permission to admit it first, but once it starts, it explodes like sunshine across her face. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She’s quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “Hey, Cara? Thank you.”

“For what?”

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, searching for the answer. When she finds it, she smiles, those beautiful green eyes she passed on to Abel shining with gratitude. “Peace. Abel has a home he feels safe in, with people he feels safe with. He’s loved, he’s learning, and he’s happy. And that brings me a peace I never thought I’d find. Thank you.”

I wish I could find the words to describe it, the feeling that moves through me as I weep quietly in the dark kitchen after Catharine and I hang up, hugging Abel’s dinosaur costume to my chest while the laughter of my husband and son bounces quietly off the walls above me.

It feels like I’m wading out to sea again for the first time in ages, since the last time I was here, when I nearly didn’t make it. It feels like standing on the shore in the middle of a thunderstorm, watching the angry waves toss and turn. Except this time, I turn my face toward the sky, I close my eyes, and I breathe it in. The fresh air, the renewed strength. I breathe out what no longer serves me, and I breathe in the knowledge that what’s meant to be will find me, one way or another, in this life or the next.

And when I open my eyes, the storm wanes. The rain slows to a patter until all that’s left of it is what clings to the salty air. The clouds part, and the sunshine reflects off those lingering droplets, splashing a rainbow across the sky as the waves die down, until they’re nothing but the gentle lap of the water kissing my toes.

It feels like putting one foot in front of the other, slow but certain, knowing that I am strong enough to survive anything this life lays at my feet, because I have survived what was meant to break me beyond repair.

It feels like water surrounding me in a warm embrace as I step deeper.

It feels like facing my fears as I dive headfirst into the water.

And when I emerge, taking that first breath, so deep it revitalizes every inch of me, it feels like healing.

It feels like loving myself enough to choose healing.

When I finally find myself outside of Abel’s room, peering in on my two favorite boys snuggled up in the window beneath the stars, there are only three things I am certain of.

First, that healing begins with forgiving myself. For the love I denied myself, for the worth I tossed away, for not showing up for myself on the days I needed myself most.

Second, that I would do it all over again if it meant ending up exactly where I am right now.

And finally, that my worth has never, not once, and no matter how much I believed it to be, been tied to my ability to reproduce. My body is a temple. My heart is good and full. My brain is powerful and magnificent. And me? I am fierce. Capable. Worthy.

I’m fucking priceless.

Emmett carefully rises from the window, Abel clutched to his chest. It’s the never-ending love that shines in his eyes that nearly knocks me to my knees as he gently tucks Abel into bed, sifting his fingers through those copper waves. He brings Abel’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and whispering, “If you and your mama were the only stars in my sky, that would be all I needed.”

He turns toward the door, pausing when he catches me, a wide grin spreading across his face. He’s silent as he ambles over, and my heart flutters the same way it always has. I back up one step, then another, and Emmett reaches out, fingers gently wrapping around my throat, hauling me back to him.

“Hi, Mama,” he whispers, the words pressed against my lips as he pries them open, slipping his tongue inside.

“Hi, Daddy.”

He groans, dropping his head to my shoulder. “No. You can’t. Not Daddy . You know what it does to me.”

Tossing my arms over his shoulders, I let him hoist me up, his hands squeezing my ass as he carries me to our room. I nip his earlobe. “What does it do to you, Daddy?”

He drops me on the bed, holding my stare as he slides his belt off. “Makes me wanna mark you. Own you. Fuck you.” He lifts one shoulder. “Makes me wanna marry you all over again, truth be told.”

“I’ll need at least a year to plan that.”

He forces a sigh as he crawls over me. “I guess loving you will have to do until then.”

My palms glide over his back, guiding his shirt over his head. “I knew you’d be such a dangerous DILF.”

“Have you considered that it was my costume tonight? Maybe that’s why you’re so horny.”

I bite back my laughter. “You guys are so secure in your manhood. Nothing has ever been a bigger turn-on.”

“I knew it,” he murmurs, mouth dipping to claim mine. “I can put my spandex suit back on if you give me a minute to wiggle into it.”

“Aw, but then the Pussy Pounder Five Thousand would be all cooped up in there.” I slide my hand into his pants, palming his thick cock as he hisses. “And don’t you think he’d rather be somewhere else?”

A throaty hum rumbles from his chest, and suddenly one of my wrists is cuffed to the bed and Emmett’s ditching my pants on the floor, working my panties down my thighs. “I can think of at least three somewhere elses he’d rather be.” He spreads my legs wide, grinning as he runs the tip of his finger through my wet pussy. “Let’s start with this greedy cunt.”

But he doesn’t just start with it. He starts, he finishes, goes back for round two, and then round three after a detour in my mouth. He fucks me, over and over, until his cum is seeping out of me, soaking the sheets beneath us, and then? Then he dips his mouth, fucking his cum back into me with his glorious tongue before he licks me clean, leaving me a quivering, sweat-soaked mess as he collapses beside me.

Emmett traces the letters inked on my upper thigh, smooths the bite mark he left around his favorite four-letter word somewhere between rounds one and two. “Do you ever think about the what-ifs?” he asks softly.

“What if it worked?”

He nods. “Sometimes it keeps me up at night, thinking about how we got here. How we spent so long fighting for something, begging for the outcome we dreamed of, breaking ourselves along the way. I was furious with life for taking something from us, but then… then life gave us Abel. A love we fought for. A love we begged for. A love we needed.” Emmett wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. “We needed Abel. And he needed us. I guess… I guess that’s the what-if I think about. What if it had worked when we wanted it to, and we didn’t have Abel?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? To be almost… grateful, in a sense.” Make no mistake: It is a battle I wouldn’t wish on anyone, an everlasting grief that’s etched itself so deeply inside me, forced me to say goodbye to who I was and welcome a new me, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. And yet… “I wouldn’t change it. It gave us Abel, and Abel, he…” My eyes flutter closed, and I shake my head. “I knew it would be a different kind of love, you know? Different than loving my friends, or even you. But nothing could have prepared me for how powerful it is, the love between a parent and a child.”

Emmett pulls my hand to his chest, lays it over the gentle thrum of the heartbeat that lives below. “Nothing could have prepared me for how healing it is, to love someone so pure, so innocent, the way I wanted to be loved when I was a kid.”

I lift my hand to his jaw, guiding his gaze down to mine. “You deserved to be loved the way you love Abel. You deserved every ounce of patience you give him, all the encouragement, the safety to be yourself without fear of abandonment.”

A silent tear slips free, rolling down his temple. “I know. And I know now how easy it is to love a child like that, even on the hardest days.”

I press a kiss to his open palm before clutching it at my chest, choosing to just exist in this moment, the peaceful stillness that comes with these quiet truths we trade late at night.

“Have you given any more thought to what you’d like to do with your embryo?” Emmett asks after a few minutes.

I expect the tight pull of my shoulders, the swelling pain in my chest, the squeeze of my throat. I expect the rush of anxiety, ready to hit like a tsunami, to drag me under. It’s why I gave myself permission a month ago not to rush when the clinic notified us that they would be closing, and they asked us what we’d like them to do with our last frozen embryo.

And yet when Emmett gently broaches the subject for the first time in weeks… none of it comes.

“We don’t have to use it,” he reminds me like he did when we went over our options: move it to a new clinic so we can use it in the future, dispose of it—a term I hate, for some reason—or donate it. “And if you’re not sure, we can always move it and decide later on.” His fingertips touch my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “I want you to know that watching you become a mother has been the single most beautiful thing I’ve witnessed in this lifetime. And because I am blessed to share a lifetime with you, I have witnessed many, many beautiful things.”

I hum a laugh, nuzzling my cheek into the palm of his hand. “So true. So blessed.”

Emmett chuckles, the sound so hearty, so warm, I feel it right down to the tips of my toes. His fingertips drift down the slope of my nose, sweep over my cheekbones, trace the shape of my lips. “Love isn’t easy. It’s cracking yourself wide open when you’re terrified to do so, just so someone can know the deepest, darkest parts of you. It’s recognizing your faults so you can grow as a person and grow together. It’s choosing to have the hard conversations instead of taking the easy way out, fighting to be together even when the fight is exhausting. It’s a choice you have to make every day, a mountain you climb together. Love isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be. But loving you, firefly? Loving you is the easiest choice I’ve ever made, and I’ll choose you for the rest of my tomorrows.”

“And after that too?”

He presses his smile to mine, and I’m sure of the answer before he breathes the promise into me.

“And after that too.”

Two months later, New Year’s Day

“You guys didn’t have to come with me.”

“I could always use a little girl time. I’m stuck with the boys far too often.” Lennon swipes a handful of French fries through her Frosty, then stuffs them in her mouth. “Pwus, you took us thwu da Wendy’s dwive-thwu.”

My gaze flicks to the soft swell of her belly as she rides in my passenger seat, and I smile. “I know better than to deprive my pregnant friends of cravings.”

“What’s the science behind hot, salty French fries and cold chocolate ice cream, anyway?” Jennie mumbles. “They shouldn’t go together, but they do.” She drops her head back, a gob of Frosty dripping from her fries, landing on her waiting tongue. “You know what? I don’t care.” She tosses the fries in her mouth, humming happily. “I wish I got twee of dem.”

Oh, yeah, Jennie’s pregnant too.

With the exact same due date as Lennon.

You can imagine what the rest of us have been dealing with between Jaxon and Garrett and the competition they’ve turned their wives’ pregnancies into.

“We’re gonna get rid of the evidence, right?” Olivia tosses the last of her food in her mouth before balling up the garbage. “If Cawta sees dis, I’ll neva hear da end of dis.”

Rosie nods, mouth full as she grabs everyone’s garbage and shoves it inside a dog poop bag she pulls from her purse. “Adam give me dat wook, wike he’s not mad”—she swallows—“just disappointed he didn’t get one too.”

I snort a laugh as I pull into my garage and cut the engine. Olivia and Rosie aren’t pregnant, just tired of having to share their nursing snacks with their huge-appetite husbands. “Your secret is safe with me,” I say as Rosie stuffs the evidence into my garbage can.

Jennie holds up her fries and Frosty. “Last chance, Care.”

My nose wrinkles. “No thanks. My stomach’s still not right after last night.”

It’s New Year’s Day, and Emmett’s birthday, which means last night was New Year’s Eve. We spent it at Carter and Olivia’s, like we do every year, but this one looked a little bit different. It was just us, five couples and our kids—dogs and cats included—and somehow as equally chaotic as every New Year’s Eve party we’ve had before. We made homemade pizzas around the kitchen island and sang karaoke until both the batteries and the cord for the microphone went mysteriously missing. We moved all the furniture out of the living room and covered the floor with pillows and blankets, and shared our favorite snacks as we sprawled out together and talked through one movie, before the kids and the girls fell asleep minutes into the second one. And when I woke up at midnight, it was with my son curled into my side, and my husband brushing his thumb over my cheekbone, gently coaxing me awake so he could give me my midnight kiss.

I’m not cut out for wild nights anymore, but I don’t think I mind. What I do mind, however, is that the packet of M&M’s and Skittles that I mixed together and gorged on hasn’t been sitting right with my stomach in the nearly twenty-four hours since.

I sigh, stuffing Emmett’s birthday cake into the garage fridge. My mind’s a mess, hence why I had to run out and pick up his cake today after begging the bakery to open for me on a holiday, because I forgot to pick it up yesterday afternoon like I was supposed to. I blame the hormones. I forgot how much those injections fucked with my mood, my head, and, well, everything. Thank God I only had to take them for the twelve days leading up to our frozen embryo transfer, but the progesterone suppositories I’ve been essentially rocket-launching up my pussy every morning while I wait to find out if the transfer took this time hasn’t helped either.

For example, the nurse at our new fertility clinic was kind enough to offer to call Emmett with my blood test results, explaining that most preferred to hear any negative news from their partner, rather than a nurse. I wholeheartedly agreed but forgot to tell Emmett that they were closing early yesterday, and I think the nurses did too, because suddenly they were closed, and they’d forgotten to call Emmett with my results, and now I’m stuck taking this god-awful progesterone until the clinic reopens tomorrow.

Holiday brain fog and fertility treatment brain fog are a lethal combination.

I climb the steps in the garage, pausing with my hand on the doorknob.

Olivia cocks her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know…” I frown, trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that has me suddenly on edge. “Do you hear that?”

The girls point their ears toward the door, brows furrowed as they shake their heads.

“No,” Jennie says.

“Nope,” Rosie confirms.

“I don’t hear anything,” Lennon offers.

Olivia shrugs. “Same, I don’t hear— ohmyfuckingfuckidonthearanything. ” Her eyes widen, and she pushes past me. “No, no, no.”

I shove her out of the way as she barrels through the door and into my hallway, screaming after her husband, who is—statistically and historically speaking— always the ringleader in these types of situations.

“Emmett? Emmett, where are you? Carter Beckett, you better not have convinced my mature husband to—Oh. My. God.” I skid to a stop at the bottom of my stairs, quivering hand over my mouth. “What is this?” I look at the mattresses. Yes, the mattresses. Four of them, to be exact, lying on top of my staircase. And at the bottom of my staircase? A pyramid, at least eight feet tall, made entirely of red Solo cups. “ What the fuck is this? ”

“Swear jar, Mama!” Abel yells from the top of the stairs, pointing at me.

My gaze goes to the men behind him. The grown men, all wearing the custom Snuggies I got them for Christmas, each with their wife’s face plastered all over them. In any other scenario, it’d be hilarious, but in this scenario… in this scenario, these five grown men grin down at me, beaming with absolute motherfucking pride, like they’ve had the most brilliant idea.

“Human bowling,” Emmett shares excitedly.

“Human decline bowling,” Carter corrects, gesturing at the slide.

Oh, the humans are declining, all right.

My brows rise, slowly but so fucking high. My arms cross over my chest, and don’t ask me how I know, but I am 100 percent certain that Olivia’s hip juts, even though I can’t see it.

Carter swallows. “Decline, because of the stairs,” he whispers. “And human, because of the, uh… humans. Maybe it’ll… maybe it’ll help if you guys see it. You’re just… you’re just not seeing the vision. Right?” He looks to the kids. “Should I show them the vision?”

“No,” Olivia says.

“ Yes ,” Ireland insists, eyes alight with mischief.

Carter straps his hockey helmet to his head while the other four slowly peel theirs off, like they’ve suddenly remembered that they know better.

“It’s simple, really.” Carter gets onto the first mattress. “You just lay face-down on the mattress, like so… and then… Emmett? Can you do the honors?”

Emmett doesn’t take his terrified gaze off me as he slowly steps forward. Carefully, he gives Carter a nudge, and the six-foot-four hockey captain and dad of three shouts out a “ Wahoo! ” as he goes sliding down the stairs from one mattress to the next, until he collides with the pyramid of cups at the bottom. He looks back at the damage as the cups scatter in my entryway, and his face falls.

“Aw, dangit. Missed one.” He starts climbing back up the mattresses. “Em, send me again. I gotta hit that last—”

“My God .” I throw my hands in the air, along with all rational and logical reasoning. “Will the fuckery never end?”

“Sorry, baby,” Emmett whispers, hanging his head.

“Sorry, Care,” Adam, Garrett, and Jaxon mumble together.

“I love you,” Carter tries, terrified gaze wobbling, throat bobbing as he clings to a mattress halfway up, like he’s too afraid to move. “I love you. You’re so… and then… and I mean…” A swallow. “I love you.”

“And you .” I grip his ankle, dragging him down the mattress contraption as he squeals. “Why are you always at the scene of the crime?”

Carter clambers to his feet, brushing himself off. “In my defense”—he holds up a finger, and I’d love to know where he found the balls to try an excuse with me—“I was left unsupervised. So.” He shrugs, then waggles his fingers around me and the girls. “That’s on you.”

I pin my arms across my chest. “Oh, is that so?”

Olivia fists her hips, brows arched. “Pardon me?”

“I… I…” Carter looks back at Emmett. “Emmett?”

“Uh… let’s…” His eyes light, and he starts hoisting the mattresses, heaving them down the upstairs hallway before he follows the kids down the stairs. “Let’s go into the living room!”

“I need a drink,” I mutter, making my way down the hall ahead of the others. I stop at the edge of the living room, frowning at the stunning flowers sitting in a vase on the table, the pink and blue balloons floating next to them. “Did I get those?” I murmur to myself. “I must be losing my mind. Does anyone else need a dr—” I stop short as I twist around, finding my family gathered behind me.

Waiting.

Watching.

Smiling.

“What’s… what’s going on?”

Abel tugs on Emmett’s hand. “Now, Daddy?”

Emmett nods, happy, tearful gaze fixed on me, and my heartbeat thunders.

Abel rushes past me, into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a piece of paper. He grins, bouncing on his toes. “I painted this for you, Mommy.”

“Thank you, baby. That’s so thoughtful.” I take the picture from his tiny hands, grinning down at the colorful painting, the rainbow splashed above us. “Is this our family?”

Abel nods, pointing at the people. “This is you. And this is Daddy. And this is me.”

I point at the small person next to Abel. “And who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” He beams up at me, patting his chest proudly. “I’m gonna be a big brother. That’s my baby brother or sister.”

My gaze flips to Emmett. Tracks the tears streaming down his face. Slides to the people in this world I love most, each and every one of them losing their fight with their tears. Back to Emmett, and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “No way.”

But Emmett just grins. Ambles over to me. Takes my face in his capable hands. And says yes .

“You’re pregnant, Cara.”

And all those Skittles and M&M’s that have been sitting like lead in my stomach since last night? They choose this moment to make their reappearance, painting the kitchen sink as I promptly empty the contents of my stomach into it.

“Huh,” Carter murmurs from somewhere behind me. “That’s one way to taste the rainbow.”