Standing by the wet bar, I poured myself a scotch and walked over to wait by the window, one eye on the quilt of white snow coating the street, the other on the pack-n-play in the corner of the room. Chip was laid out by the side of the playpen, tail spread out, sleeping but ready to guard the contents in an instant.It had been a little over a year since our family had grown, but this was Chip’s way since day one—protect Quinn.
“Little Drummer Boy” played in the background while Quinn slept surrounded by her toys. This catnap wasn’t part of her “schedule,” but then again, I rarely followed her routine when I was in charge. She had been busy playing and had zonked out. I figured there was no harm in letting her rest while we waited for her mom. Yes, it was against the pediatrician’s advice, but when it came to my little girl all reason flew out the window, which brought me back to the current weather situation and Billy…
I’d urged our permanent nanny, Shelby, to head home forty-five minutes ago when Frank texted to say they landed and were on their way. Shelby deserved to spend the weekend with her own family without getting stuck on the roads, and I wantedmy own little broodall together.
Billy had flown out the day before to attend the Screen Actors Guild holiday party with Ford and Jamie, leaving Quinn in my care (and Shelby’s, who followed Quinn’s schedule). I knew mom guilt filled Billy’s veins as she took off yesterday morning, butMy Willawas amazing—for the last year, working mom, bicoastal partner, and adoring sister/sister-in-law were only a few of the roles she filled daily.
After Quinn was born andHalf-Shellreleased to positive reviews, Billy had decided one movie every two years (with Shelby and Quinn on set) was her limit.
Bound and determined to spend the rest of her time in our brand-new house in Bethesda, supporting my career and being a party of three, Billy had made a small bend in her rules for the Screen Actors’ party. I wasn’t upset; Billy deserved any accolades and celebrations thrown her way. I’d encouraged her to go and put on a beautiful dress, have a decadent time with her brother and sister-in-law, and then come back to celebrate the holidays, just us.
She’d finally acquiesced when I told her I wasn’t on call for the entire week of Christmas and New Year’s. Yes, my team and I had gotten better about actually keeping our call schedule. We all had families of our own now, and it was time we did a decent job of maintaining balance. None of our patients complained. We also hired another doctor, who was easing the burden.
Downing my scotch, I walked over to the pack-n-play and stared at our miracle baby. All blond and blue-eyed like her mom, she was an angel. I wanted to stop time and keep her this small forever. Despite Willa having frozen eggs, we’d decided Quinn was enough for us—a baby we’d never dreamed of…but I dreaded the teenage years already.
The good thing was that Ford and Jamie spent as much time as they could on the East Coast now too, so Quinn had Laurel to grow up alongside. I was pretty sure the cousins would be tight. Especially since Ford was surprising Jamie with a plot of land two doors away from us for Christmas. She’d gone wild for our house, and Ford had come to me and asked if he could replicate the seven-bedroom contemporary home.
I couldn’t have given a shit. Home for me was where Willa and Quinn were. This place was mostly built when we first saw it, but with its California aesthetic it made up for Billy leaving her condo in the sky. After getting back to her body and adjusting to mom life back east, Billy made the decision to live where there wassnow and Christmas tree farms. Her words, not mine.
We also bought a bungalow in Santa Monica for when we went back to California. It had a yard for Chip, a pool for Quinn to eventually swim in, and room for all of us to spread out.
“Hello,” a soft voice called as the alarm panel beeped.
Every door and window was equipped with sensors and emergency call buttons. It was no secret Billy Conway lived in this house—her mom had splattered Billy’s return back east all over the press—and with Quinn, we didn’t chance anything. Fucking Beatrice was a pain in my ass, but I’d learned to deal with her privately, not involving Billy. There was no reason to fight with my woman. My beautiful Willa, who was climbing up the stairs as Chip and I made it to the top.
“Hi,” I said, pulling the love of my life close and hugging her tight, the dog’s tail wagging and hitting my calf. “You good?”
She nodded into my chest, reaching down to pet Chip.
“All clear up there?” Frank asked me from the bottom of the split-level staircase.
We’d come a long way since our first few encounters. Mostly because he was a proud guncle to Quinn, and without me there wouldn’t be a baby. I kept to the rules when it came to my daughter, and occasionally broke them when I wanted some alone time with my woman.
“All quiet up here,” I said back, not letting Billy out of my arms.
Until Quinn squawked and Billy was quickly on the move, fur jacket and hat still on, clomping in her boots toward our baby girl.
“I’m going to arm the house and go across the street. Call if you need,” Frank stated from downstairs.
We’d purchased the Victorian across the street for him and Michael. Both were loving the time off when Billy wasn’t filming, jetting to New York or Toronto. They loved big-city life, and being here afforded them access to several great places. Of course, Frank always had a substitute lined up for when he was gone—typically Terry, a friend of his from LA. I’d wondered if Terry was an ex of his, but I didn’t ask…and I didn’t mind the help now that Quinn was born. When I went to work, it gave me peace of mind—someone was watching over my baby girl and Billy and/or Shelby.
“There you are, my sweet princess,” I heard Billy cooing to Quinn while she walked toward the fridge. Hollywood speculated Billy was an absentee mom at her age and career level, but as she grabbed a bottle from the fridge and heated it in the warmer, Quinn settled on her hip, I knew she was anything but.
“We need to take that away soon…” I commented on the bottle. As a doctor, I should follow my colleague’s recommendation. As a dad, I didn’t care. In fact, we were already a month past due on the pediatrician’s orders, but Billy wasn’t ready.
Plopping down on the couch, holding Quinn and shimmying out of her coat, Billy began to feed our daughter. She’d breastfed for a few weeks, but her milk production was slow and our girl was a hearty eater. My colleague, Neal, our pediatrician, had assuaged Billy’s worries—Quinn would be absolutely fine on formula. I’d pointed out Laurel was not breastfed and was perfect, but my advice meant nothing when it came to Quinn.
“I know,” she said quietly, noting my bottle comment. “I will, after the new year. Let’s not spoil the holiday.”
“Party was fun?” I asked, changing the subject, sitting down across from my girls, my eyes never leaving the sight in front of me. I remembered back to watching Billy feeding Laurel, and thinking she could have that of her own.
“It was. Ford got into it with Sylvie Dahling. Supposedly she gave Jamie a nasty look, and that was it…apparently she muttered under her breath something like he ‘could have done better.’”
“I’m sure Jamie doesn’t believe any of that…”
“It’s so Hollywood. Knock a sister down. That’s why I’m so glad Quinnie is growing up here. Four seasons, high school football and homecoming, and down-to-earth girls.”
I didn’t point out that we lived in the wealthiest county, or that Billy’s friends in high school were not so great. I let Billy have her dream…whatever she wanted was what I desired.
