Atticus glowered at him. “If you’re so desperate to watch my husband fuck me, I’m sure he has a few recordings he could loan you.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the marble staircase, chin tipped up, dignity clutched in a death grip, feeling a little superior as he heard Noah say, “Damn, someone’s feeling feisty. You really think they record themselves?”
“The way Jericho can’t stop climbing on top of him?” Adam said, grumpily. “They could probably fill a Blockbuster.”
Upstairs, Cricket’s bedroom was controlled chaos.
She reclined on her queen-sized bed, having changed out of her street clothes into a black sleeveless gown with buttons down the front. It looked more like a dress than a hospital gown, soft and elegant in a way that felt veryher, and loose enough to allow her to move freely throughout the room. She’d pulled her long blonde hair on top of her head in a bun, two pink pieces framing her face. She looked…ethereal.
Thomas and Aiden hovered nearby, fussing in their own particular ways, handing her the remote for the television, then the Bose speakers, then arguing quietly over whetherthe playlist should be instrumental or something with lyrics. An ice machine hummed softly in the corner, and the temperature of the room sat in that careful middle ground, neither too warm nor too cold.
Noah breezed into the room not even thirty seconds after Atticus, immediately making a beeline for Cricket.
“Hey, girl, hey,” he called, perching on the edge of the bed. “So… what’s new?”
Cricket snorted. “Oh, nothing much. Just hanging around in my nightie with six gay men. The usual.”
Adam wandered in behind him. “You really will do anything to get out of wrapping presents.”
Cricket flipped him off, though a small laugh escaped anyway, the tension breaking just enough to make the room feel lighter.
“Mommy?”
Everyone turned to see Allister peeking around the doorframe, eyes wide and serious. Matty followed immediately behind him. “Sorry,” he said. “He was insisting he heard his mom… and he was right. Hi, Cricket.”
“Hey, Matty,” she said warmly. Then, to Allister, “Come here, baby.”
Allister didn’t hesitate, running to her and climbing onto the bed. Atticus felt something tighten in his chest at the sight, the instinctive pull toward the smallest ones, the quiet gravity they carried without knowing it.
Allister snuggled into Cricket’s side and whispered, “Does it hurt?”
“No, baby,” she said softly. “Not right this second.”
He nodded solemnly, then rested his head against her, as if he’d appointed himself her personal guardian.
August and Lucas burst through the door moments later, both of them visibly deflating at the sight of Cricket settled in bed with Allister tucked against her.
“Oh, thank God,” Lucas breathed, shoulders sagging as if he’d been holding himself upright on sheer panic alone.
August glanced at Adam and Noah. “How the hell did you beat us here?”
Noah gave them a haunted look. “Adam drove.”
Lucas winced sympathetically. “Well… glad you made it in one piece.”
August’s brow furrowed. “Where’s Petra?”
Cricket shrugged, a flicker of unease crossing her face. “Somewhere safe, I hope. I can’t get a hold of her.”
That must be the midwife. He’d never heard her name.
Lucas’s gaze slid immediately to Atticus.
“I can do it if she doesn’t show,” Atticus said before Lucas could ask.
Relief softened Lucas’s expression instantly. He moved to Cricket’s side and gently combed his fingers through Allister’s hair. “Hey, baby. Why don’t we give Mommy a little space?”
He tried to lift him, but Allister clung tighter, shaking his head.
