Voss looks around and nods. He seems to admire the decorations before he looks at me again. Crossing the room, he stops in front of me and gives me a kiss. I smile. But then he’s putting Axl in my arms, and I’m borderline panicky.
His hands hold over mine, keeping them in place. “This used to be my room,” he says, and I glance at him. “We didn’t live here when we were kids, but we’d visit with Dad during holidays and shit. This was my room until I was thirteen and grew out of it. Instead of telling Dad I wanted to change my room, I picked up my shit and dumped it into the room across the hall.”
“Why?”
“There are more rooms here than we’ll ever use. Why not?”
I snort.
His hands are still over mine, keeping my hold on Axl secure. “I thought it’d be cool to have him grow up in my childhood room, just how I left it. Different furniture, of course. It also worked out since it’s right across the hall.”
I nod and glance around, though my attention doesn’t move from Axl for long. I’m not sure if I’m afraid he’s going to turn into a worm and wiggle his way out of my hold or what, but I’m terrified that if I look away, he’ll suddenly end up on the floor.
Voss presses against me, sandwiching Axl between us, but not so tightly that he’s bothering Axl. “Take a breath, Brek. He’s not going to shatter.”
“How do you know that?”
“Their bones are very pliant when they’re born. They begin to harden as they grow. That’s not to say they can’t break, but just holding him, you’re not going to snap him in two.”
“I’ve never held a baby,” I admit.
“You never held Emerson?”
I shake my head. “Not until he was crawling. Then he forced himself on me and climbed into my lap.”
He laughs. “I see. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to force Axl on you.” Voss doesn’t move to take him away, though. He waits, seeing what I want to do.
“I feel like I’ve kind of forced him on you often over the last week,” he says after a minute.
“Oh.”
He chuckles again. “I see it’s bothering you a lot. Sorry to bring it up.”
I meet his eyes and enjoy the amusement I find there. “I don’t mind your kid being around. It’d be really selfish of me to say I don’t want him around, wouldn’t it?”
Voss kisses my lips again and backs away. He turns to the closet, and I watch, frozen, as he pulls a tote of clothes down from the shelf. “No. You didn’t sign up to date a single dad.”
“I—what?”
He glances at me, smirking. “We’re dating. Aren’t we?”
My mouth works stupidly for a minute, opening and closing like a damn fish. “Oh.”
Voss laughs. “Brek, you’re fucking adorable. You want to date or not?”
“I… yeah.”
“Okay, good. Then I’m going to repeat—you didn’t sign up to date a single dad.”
“It’s not like I didn’t know you’d knocked up some girl when we began… dating. So I kinda did, right?”
He nods absently. “I guess that’s not really what I was trying to say, though I’m not sure what I am. Maybe I don’t want you to feel obligated to… parent. Not even, like, uncle parent, you know? I’d like you not to hate his presence, though. I don’t want you to resent him being around.”
“Voss, I don’t. Why do you think that?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think that. I’m saying I don’t want that to happen. I guess that’s why I wanted you to hold him just now. Not because I want you to share responsibility, but I’d like you to be comfortable in his presence.”
I look down at the sleeping infant. “My discomfort is because I’m twenty-three and I’ve never held a baby before. They’re small and fragile and wiggly; they make noises and smells and gross stuff comes out of their mouths.”
