We break the news to Deat after school, just before we head to his grandparents’ house. Then I have to call Dad and my brothers and let them know before word gets out.
“You’re having a baby?” he cries, which earns a quick glance between me and Chels.
“Yes, we’re having a baby, sweetie,” Chelsea gives him a squeeze as he stands there stunned for a moment while he takes it in.
“How do you feel about having a baby brother or sister?” I ask with more trepidation than I know what to do with. It’s amazing that I can cut million dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but when it comes to breaking the news to a seven-year-old that he’s about to become a big brother, my gut twists and knots.
“I’d love a little brother!” He claps his hands, jumping up and down, and the sigh of relief from us both is palpable, though we still share another glance about him wanting a brother.
“Well, we don’t know yet it will be a little brother,” Chels says gently. “A little sister would be pretty cool too.”
“That’s true,” Deaton says with a little smile, but suddenly shifting, his eyes drop to his shoes.
“Hey.” I say, giving him a nudge like we often do to each other, and his body lightly rocks. “Why the frown? You know you’re kid number one, right? The firstborn in any family is so important.”
“Is it?”
“Yep. It sure is.”
Deat chews his lip for a moment, then looks up at me under those long lashes he inherited from his mama. “But will you love him or her more because it’s your own baby?” he asks me in a small voice, and I swear to God, my heart jumps out of my chest like a spring box. I wasn’t expecting that. Chelsea’s hands fly up to her mouth in my peripheral.
“What? No!” I cry. “Deat!” I reach for him and pull him into my arms. “You’re my baby, too. I love you, bud. You know that. I’ll love the new baby just as much as I love you. And that’s a lot.”
He sniffs and swipes his hand across his nose. “But I’m not really yours,” he whispers, his solemness just about tearing me in two. “I’m just my moms, I don’t really have a dad, right?”
“Deat, that’s not true,” Chels says, bending down to her knees and touching him softly. “Brad might not be your biological daddy, like how we talked about before, but he loves you just as much as if you were.”
“It’s true,” I agree. “As far as I’m concerned, you aren’t just your mom’s, you’re mine, too. If you want to be?”
Deat quickly nods, his smile returning as I give him a cuddle. “You are pretty cool. And my friends all love your car.”
I laugh and give him a scuff on the head. “Well, I guess that’s as good a reason as any.”
“So then I just wondered if I could?—”
We both stare at him, waiting for him to get the words out, and from the look of anticipation on his mom’s face, it looks like she too is wondering what the heck he’s going to come out with next.
“If you could what?” I ask him after a moment when he doesn’t continue.
He blows out a breath, his dark fringe blowing up with the motion. “If now I’m going to have a little brother or sister, I could maybe call you Dad?”
My heart lurches, and I can’t even stop the fucking tears that escape my eyes if I wanted to. It’s like they were just poised behind the surface, waiting to spout.
Oh, man. This kid.
The wordDadsettles in my heart like a love song, one I know I’ll keep there until my dying day. I swallow, the lump in my throat instant, but hopefully short-lived.
“I’d love it if you called me Dad,” I whisper, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hand as I hug him close to me. “I love you, Deat.”
“I love you, too,Dad.” He holds me with all his might, and I wonder how on earth I got this lucky. Those words mean so, so much.
I can hear Chels sniffing too as her arms wrap around us both and tighten. We’re all a blubbering mess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve gotten even closer this year, but for him to ask to call me Dad is something I never knew would ever happen. And what a beautiful thing. “I love the sound of that,Dad and Son.” Chels kisses us both on the cheek and wipes her own eyes as we all do our best to pull ourselves together.
“Now we’ve got to go break all our exciting news to your grandparents,” I say. “How about we grab a chocolate shake on the way?” What we haven’t told him is we have another surprise — in the form of a puppy for him waiting at the shelter. We’ve been looking at small dogs for a while, and a little five-month-old white Maltese called Max just came in. Chelsea’s friend, Bea, told us all about it, and we went down for a sneaky visit. He’s just adorable.
We adopted him on the spot but had to wait until today to pick him up after he got the all clear from the vet. I can’t wait tosee Deat’s face when we collect the little guy. He’s been wanting a dog for as long as I can remember.
“Yay!” He jumps up and down.
