“You can, love, but she’s warm from sleep.” I take her hand and squeeze. “It might read high.”
She hands it to me. “I’d like to check.”
“Okay.” I do as she asks and show her the result when it beeps. “Normal.”
Avonna exhales with relief. Scans Quinn again. She’s not checking for errors. She’s checking for safety. Her mind plays out every possible threat she survived growing up. Every danger she learned to expect. Every harm that could potentially happen.
“It’s terrifying how much I love them.” She drapes her arm around my neck to stroke her daughter’s head. “Thank you for not making me feel crazy. I know I’m a pain in the ass.”
“You’re not, baby.” I thread my fingers through hers.
“I didn’t think love could feel this big.” She looks at my da. “Like my heart is glass.”
“Yer a good mother.” He smiles.
Avonna’s eyes shine with tears. She looks away fast, embarrassed by emotion she can’t cage.
“Let us watch them while the two of you take a break and eat.” Ma sets two plates on the counter. “Both of you sit.”
Avonna and I eat. Across the room, I watch Da coo at the girls and my chest twists.
A year ago my nights were noise and neon, hotel walls shaking, bodies and sweat and adrenaline. Music first. Chaos second. Everything else a far-off third. I lived in my own head and everyone else learned to keep up or fall behind.
Now the loudest thing in my life is a baby’s cry.
Linus, Avonna, and I never planned to be parents, at least this early in our commitment to each other. We’ve spent over a year convinced the only consequence of love was pleasure. Turns out the universe had other ideas and now we’re responsible for tiny humans.
Iwant this. I do.
Even when the learning curve hits like a brick wall every day. Freedom traded for bottles and burp cloths. Sex turned into schedules and survival. No room for luxuries like sleep or sanity.
My guitar case still sits in the corner, clasped shut like a secret I’m not ready to reopen. Some days I look at it and feel a flicker. The music’s inside me, waiting to break free. Other days, I don’t remember it’s there.
I lift the fork to my mouth and chew. Take in my surroundings. Enjoy a meal I didn’t microwave.
I’m here. I’m breathing. Present in the moment. Being here for my family.
With my family.
For the first time in my adult life, I’m not disappearing.
fifty-three
Avonna
One Year Later
Themorningispurechaos.
Quinn barrels across the living room on wobbling legs, shrieking with triumph like she owns the earth she walks on.
Sloane sits on the floor beside the couch, turning a wooden block over in her hand with quiet concentration.
Fire and water. One wild, one still. Fraternal twins in every possible way. They mirror their father’s respective personalities.
I lower myself onto the rug beside Sloane, knees cracking in protest. Their birth was rough on my body and mind. Some days I feels like a house someone forgot to finish building. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Quinn making a beeline for the bookshelf. Liam swoops in before she can climb it,planting her on his hip. He kisses her cheek until she squeals, catching my eye over her shoulder.
He smiles with relief. I’m not freaking out like I would have done a year ago.
